Hot tears pricked at my eyes. Despite the rift that had formed between us, I was not ready to lose Henri from my life—and certainly not for some Crown I had no intention of keeping.
I was grateful for the wind that whipped at my face and dried away the evidence of my emotion. Every part of my life was a hot, steaming disaster, but I was determined to keep my confident facade in front of Luther and whoever awaited me at the end of this ride.
We cut a sharp turn, and Luther’s hand slid lower to grip my hip and hold me steady. My protests couldn’t quite take form in words amid the maddening brush of his lips against the shell of my ear.
The path straightened, and the horse broke into a gallop. My hair whirled in the breeze, tickling Luther’s face, and he gently tucked it behind my ear, his fingers lingering against my skin as they trailed the curve of my neck. This time I could not blame the cold for the shiver that rolled down my spine.
As our pace quickened, my eyes caught on a flash of light where strands of golden tinsel had been woven into the horse’s silky mane. An old conversation floated to the surface of my thoughts.
The biggest horse I’ve ever seen. I’ll never forget it. White as snow, with a patch of black between its eyes, and as tall as a house. Gold ribbon in its mane.
The realization struck. I knew why this horse seemed familiar. I hadn’t seen it before—but Henri had.
He’d watched the horse and its cruel rider trample a mortal boy to death in Lumnos City, a tragedy that had inspired him to join the Guardians’ war against the Descended.
When I told him the boy was dead, he sat there in his gold and finery and he looked at that boy’s corpse like it was nothing. He just brushed the dust off his horse and rode away.
Luther—it was Luther Henri had seen, Luther who slaughtered that boy without feeling.
My blood boiled so hot, it might have been steaming. I fixated on the horse’s hooves flying across the gravel beneath me—hooves that had stomped the life out of an innocent child.
How could I have ever believed, even for a moment, that this man was not my enemy? I’d seen his ruthlessness with his own guards, the ease with which he’d shed their blood for disobeying his orders, and he’d admitted his fondness for the late King, a man responsible for countless atrocities against mortals.
I’d been so stupid, so naive, to allow a handsome face to woo me right into his lethal hands.
He needed to pay.
They all needed to pay.
Perhaps I’d been too hasty in rejecting the Crown. What if I could balance the scales between the oppressor and the oppressed? I could bring them to justice—Luther and all the rest. I could make them suffer like my people had suffered and finally, finally, give the mortals a fighting shot at taking back what had been stolen from us so long ago.
Cold determination settled deep in my soul. I’d always dreamed of something bigger for my life, and this was my chance. My destiny beckoned, clear and unmistakable.
Survive the Challenging.
Complete the Rite of Coronation.
And destroy the Descended.
Chapter
Three
Luther’s horse had barely set foot on the mosaic stone walkway leading to the palace doors when I swung my leg over the saddle and leapt to the ground.
I couldn’t stand one second longer with that murderer’s body pressed against mine. I had plotted his downfall with every hoofbeat.
He shouted something, but his words went unheard as I strode toward the entrance, eyes fixed on the high landing of the gryvern’s perch. Though it was empty with the beast nowhere in sight, somehow I could sense her. Her heartbeat was a voice that hummed my name even from miles away.
The Crown’s power calls to her, Luther had said.
Perhaps the gryvern’s power called to me in return.
“Come, Sorae,” I whispered. The words seemed to emerge not from my throat but some new well of authority deep within that I had yet to explore.
A distant howl cut through the brisk night air.
“I’m here,” I murmured, my eyes searching the obsidian sky.
Seconds later, Sorae swooped into sight, circling the palace in wide, sweeping arcs. Her shrill cry rang out across the grounds like trumpeting fanfare announcing the arrival of her Queen. The thump of her powerful wings felt synchronized to my pounding heart.
Any chance at arriving unnoticed vanished as a crowd of dark figures formed in the palace windows, silhouetted by golden light spilling out from within. The royal family had gathered to watch.
Good.
“Come, Sorae,” I shouted. Commanding her felt surprisingly natural, as if it had always been the two of us together, bound in this soul-deep, ancient bond.
Her trajectory shifted. She shot toward me with lightning speed, then slammed into the ground in a cloud of dust, the stone tiles cracking beneath her at the impact. Her wings flared wide, dark feathers quivering, before snapping back against the sleek lines of her leonine body.
She arched her neck and let out a deafening bellow. The small group of guards that had gathered took a few steps back in alarm.
To my ears, it might as well have been a purr. The sound of it soothed some innate wildness in my soul, the answer to a question I hadn’t even known I’d asked.
I strode forward, hand extended.
Luther called out to me again—a warning, perhaps. I was certain the gryvern wouldn’t hurt me. Sorae would rip out her own throat before she would harm a hair on my head. I had no idea how I could possibly know such a thing, but I was as certain of it as my own name.
Sorae’s narrow snout lowered to meet my hand. I smiled as she let out a soft trill of recognition.
“You knew, didn’t you?” I stroked my fingertips along the rough, jagged skin beneath her jowl. “Even before the King died, somehow you knew what I would become.”
Sorae huffed once and gave a slow blink of her golden, reptilian eyes.
I took another step forward, my hands cradling her massive jaw as she towered above me. My fingers skimmed over her dark scales, down her long, spike-tipped neck, until they faded into the fur-coated steel of her powerful body. Her dense muscles twitched under my touch.
As if in response, she nudged her head against my hip, tucking me in close at her side. She turned her stare toward Luther and the guards with a deep, rumbling growl.
A warning, to any of them foolish enough to threaten her Queen.
“Incredible,” I laughed breathily, unable to keep the grin off my face. “You are… extraordinary.”
I felt the fierceness of her devotion to me, earned only by the Crown atop my head. I wondered how deep her loyalty might run. Would she defend me from the entirety of the Descended? From the other Crowns—from their own gryverns?
Would she do even more—would she go to war to defend the mortals, if I asked?
She must have been able to sense my thoughts as readily as I could sense hers. She threw a razor-sharp talon into the air with a piercing cry. Yes, she would defend. Yes, she would attack. I need only call, and Sorae would answer.
I shivered at the sobering reality.
I glanced at Luther, surprised to see a look of curious wonder on his face. He had grown up with the gryvern at his uncle’s side, and he’d once spoken of her like a quirky pet. It must be strange for him to see her cleave so quickly to the next monarch.
Perhaps he was wishing he’d killed me at the lodge, when I was easier prey. With Sorae as my guardian, ending my life had just become a far trickier task.