“Not exactly,” she answered. “Although the Kindred are considered gods to us, they had their own deities back on their home world. They brought a piece of that divine power with them when they came to Emarion. The godhood lived inside Blessed Lumnos just as it lives in you.”
I squirmed at the thought of some faraway god living like an angry stowaway in my soul. I had never been particularly religious, but if I had any loyalty to a divine force, it was to the Everflame and the Old Gods of the mortals—not to the Kindred, and certainly not to whatever nameless force Lumnos herself had been bound by.
“Learning to summon it while calm will come with time,” Luther said. “For now, use your emotions to help you access it, just like you did that first night.”
He shot me a meaningful look, and a shiver rattled through me at the memory.
Beneath that harsh exterior he so carefully maintained, I could still see it—his beaming pride at what I’d done that night, his eager anticipation of what I could become.
How could I tell him that had been the worst night of my life? How could I explain that every time my magic stirred, it was a reminder of everything and everyone I would eventually lose?
He couldn’t understand. None of them could. This was all they’d ever known.
And even if they did, it didn’t change the reality of my situation: if I didn’t master my magic, I would be dead in weeks. Then I’d lose all those things anyway—and far sooner than I planned.
So I nodded and whipped up an obedient smile.
“Let’s get started.”
Chapter
Twenty-Four
Training had not gone well.
For the hour that followed, Luther, Taran, and Alixe tried a number of tactics to force me into unleashing my emotions—teasing me, attacking me, encouraging me, angering me. None of it had worked. Not even a wisp of my power had made an appearance.
I had cut training short and returned to my suite, telling them I was simply tired from dinner and distracted by this evening’s ball. In my heart, I knew it was an excuse. My emotions were haunting me in a way I still wasn’t ready to face, and that fear had herded me back into the part of myself that was hollow and numb, a forgotten corner full of cobwebs where even the godhood couldn’t reach me.
I’ll try again later, I told myself. I have weeks. Plenty of time.
“Diem?”
I looked up from the foot of my bed to see Eleanor frowning.
“Is everything alright?” she asked.
My cheeks pulled tight with a false smile. “Yes—of course. What were you saying?”
She shot me a look. “You’re a terrible liar. We’re going to have to work on that if you’re going to be a Corbois.”
My smile turned real then, and a bit ashamed. I ran a hand along the beaded sleeve of one of the luxurious gowns she had set out, trying to imagine myself so elaborately adorned. I had learned from my mistake at the funeral and asked her to pull an assortment of options for the ball.
“I confess, all this is overwhelming. How I look has never mattered to anyone before.”
“If that’s true, you’re quite lucky.”
A sarcastic laugh rasped out of me. “Tell me I’m lucky after I survive the Challenging.”
“You will—but that’s not what I meant.” She came over and took my hands, pulling me to my feet. “Among the Twenty Houses, everything is predetermined. Before we even get a chance to know ourselves, the realm has judged us by our Houses and the strength of our magic, the two things we can’t control.” She let out a sad sigh. “Even as your advisor, it’s unlikely they’ll ever see me as more than a weak, irrelevant Corbois cousin. But you…”
She spun me around to face the array of gowns, resting her chin on my shoulder as she peered down at the frills and flourishes.
“You are a blank canvas, and this ball is your palette of paint. You can create whatever vision of yourself you want them to see. You can be mysterious or meek or strong. You can make them fear you, or you can make them underestimate you. The you that walks into that ballroom is entirely within your control. That is a rare gift in our world.”
“It’s hardly my first impression. They all saw me embarrass myself at the funeral. How can I overcome that?”
“You did it well enough at the dinner. Whatever the cousins thought when you walked in, by the end of the night, you had them all looking at you with respect. You painted a vivid picture, and that’s what they saw. So… what picture do you want to paint tonight?”
Her words gave me pause. I knew what parts of myself I’d been desperately trying to hide—my doubts, my fears, my plans, my vulnerabilities. What part of me did I want them to see instead?
My eyes dragged across the outfits Eleanor had assembled, each one a character I could slip on and off. There was the regal stateswoman—a modest emerald gown to represent the forests of Lumnos, my patriotism stitched into the embroidered insignia of the realm. Or I could be the sultry firebrand—a barely there strip of red-orange that would conjure images of me in bed rather than on the throne. And then there was the fearsome warrior queen—not a gown at all, but a clever twist on a soldier’s uniform, modified just enough to veer elegant.
The latter, at least, would recognize this ball for what it really was—a battlefield masquerading as a celebration.
“They’re going to be far more interested in impressing you, you know,” Eleanor said. “You are the Queen, after all. And a Corbois Queen at that. If the other Houses have any hope of gaining more influence, they’ll have to go through you to get it.”
I had every intention of using the Crown to share power outside the Corbois circle—just not with the Twenty Houses. Not with the Descended at all.
I kept those thoughts to myself and nodded. “I need to convince them that not only am I not a threat, but I could even be their ally.”
Eleanor smiled. “Right.”
My eyes fell on a different ensemble. “This one,” I announced as I gathered it into my arms.
“Are you sure?” Eleanor’s face scrunched in thought. “It’s beautiful, but it’s not very… you.”
I ran my palm along the crisp fabric, and the corner of my lip curved into a devious grin.
“Exactly.”
As the sun set over the forest canopy, I sat with Sorae on her perch, scouring Teller’s notes in between peeks over the marble balustrade to spy on the arriving guests.
Whatever curious magic was woven into the palace’s facade, it had altered its appearance for tonight’s festivities. The dark tangle of shadow vines had sprouted thousands of flowers that twinkled with tiny stamens of light, resembling a midnight field of sparkling flora.
As expected, the Lumnos Descended were in rare form in their most outrageous attire. Each outfit was more extravagant than the last, with bare skin galore and daring choices that had my eyes and mouth popping wide open, nearly all magic-enhanced in some breathtaking way.
Even their transport was shocking. Some arrived on horses that shimmered as if painted in living glitter, while others had elaborate carriages crafted of light or shadow itself.
Sorae kept a steady vigil, her pupils swelling and thinning furiously as she scanned each guest’s intentions, occasionally letting out small rumbles at whatever she sensed. It was no surprise that her deepest snarl marked the arrival of Iléana Hanoverre and her family, confirming what I already suspected—House Hanoverre was a threat I would need to watch carefully.