My soil.
Because Lumnos, Realm of Light and Shadows, was no longer merely my home. It was my flesh and bone. It was a part of me—it was me.
A sense of overwhelming duty slammed into me like a fist to my gut. This was my realm to serve, and these were my people to protect.
All of them, mortal and Descended alike.
And what I was about to do—exposing our realm’s most vulnerable secrets to the least trustworthy Crown of all—could put every last one of them in danger.
I looked up at Luther. “You’re sure this is a good idea?”
“No,” he admitted. “But it may be the only way to ensure no mortal blood is shed tonight.”
My shoulders sagged. “Then I have no choice.”
With a single thought, the magic binding the Umbros Descended shattered like broken glass. Their dark, hazy energy began to roll across the realm like an ominous fog, leaving me with a nagging dread that I might have just spared two hundred lives to risk countless more.
“It’s done,” I said, sighing. “The Guardians are waiting outside the gates for Henri’s signal. I had the guards take him to the dungeon so he couldn’t tip them off.”
Luther winced, and I knew it was for me—for what he could see that decision had cost me. “Go focus on the ball. I know your wishes. I’ll see them through.”
I hesitated. I wanted to thank him, but no words seemed enough. Had the roles been reversed—had a group of Descended come to hurt Teller and my father—I doubted anyone in Emarion could have stopped me from killing them on sight.
“Go,” he urged again, softer. “You have enough on your shoulders. Let me carry this one burden for you tonight.”
I glanced down at our still-joined hands. Luther continued to wipe at the crimson smudges on my palm until Henri’s blood was no longer visible—at least on the surface.
“You’re really going to do it?” I asked quietly. “You’ll let them all go… for me?”
He brushed his thumb along my palm in a long, slow trail. “You’re my Queen. Everything I do is for you.”
And yet, as I watched him press his fist to his chest in a formal salute and walk away, I couldn’t help but wonder whether Luther’s real reason for helping me had nothing to do with my Crown at all.
Aemonn was waiting for me in the servants’ passage with a towel and a bowl of warm water. I offered him a wobbly smile as I cleaned myself up. Any pretense of being the cocky, savage young Queen had already washed away. Aemonn had seen the real me, broken and vulnerable. He knew where to hit me to do the most damage. I had no choice but to wait and see where it led.
He looked me over carefully. “I wish I could tell you we could cancel the ball or delay our entrance, but—”
“I know,” I answered. “This is too important.”
I smoothed my hands over my hair, then my dress, drawing in a deep breath and imagining it carried all the confidence and sureness of purpose I so desperately needed. I took a page from Luther’s book and built a mask across my features, disguising all of my pain under a solemn, steadfast facade.
“I can handle this,” I assured him, lifting my chin. “I’m not as weak as I seemed back there.”
“I have no doubt, Your Majesty.” He gave a sly smile. “Only a fool would underestimate you.”
When we were finally lined up in front of the double doors that led into the ballroom, Aemonn leaned down and whispered. “I have one more gift for you.”
I grimaced. “I really think I’ve had enough surprises for tonight.”
“This is a good one,” he promised. He twirled his fingers in a circling motion, and a canopy of shimmers fell over our bodies, leaving a host of twinkling stars woven into our hair and clothes. The effect was breathtaking—every breath, every movement, sent tiny pinpricks of pale blue light dancing around us. We were two ethereal spirits, straight off the pages of a fairy tale.
“I can’t let a Corbois Queen walk in there unadorned,” he said, winking.
I stared down at Aemonn’s magic and imagined it as a glimmering suit of armor. The Diem inside me was a mess, heartbroken and begging for reprieve, but the Queen on the outside didn’t have the luxury of weakness. Tonight, I would have to play my part and be the bright, shiny object to distract them from the predator to come.
Behind the door, trumpet fanfare rang out, and a loud voice boomed across the room.
“Esteemed guests, may I now present the heir to the Crown, Her Royal Majesty Diem Corbois, the Unchallenged Queen of Lumnos, Realm of Light and Shadows, escorted by His Highness Prince Aemonn Corbois.”
“Thank you, Aemonn,” I said. “I won’t forget your kindness tonight.”
The doors to the ballroom cracked open, and he gave my hand one final squeeze.
“You’re a Corbois, Diem,” he murmured into my ear. “Embrace your phoenix. Rise from the ashes, and burn bright once more.”
Chapter
Twenty-Six
I had to hand it to Aemonn—he knew how to make an entrance.
An audible gasp rolled through the ballroom as we stepped onto the raised platform in full view of a crowd that stretched as far as the eye could see.
The massive hall had been decorated to match the palace exterior. Every wall was blanketed in dark, tangled vines speckled with glittering flowers that cast dots of light in motion around the room. The vaulted ceiling disappeared beneath a thick cloud of shadow dusted with glowing orbs that bobbed as if floating in a sea of midnight ink.
If the ballroom had been crafted into a night sky, then Aemonn and I were the full moon, bathing the room in our regal glow.
My dress was the perfect choice. The sheer panels of its corset were edged with white boning and coated in minuscule diamonds that trickled down like falling stardust. Romantic swaths of softest silk hung just off my shoulders, which had been dusted with an opalescent powder, and a waterfall of glittering gossamer skirts made me appear to float as I walked.
The all-white ensemble, together with my colorless eyes and snowy, pearl-embellished hair, painted the picture of a pure, innocent Queen.
A blank canvas. A blushing bride.
A white flag of surrender.
Soft. Virginal. Harmless.
All the things I wasn’t.
Only my dark, thorny Crown hinted at what lay beneath.
The crowd dropped to their knees, led by the Corbois cousins I’d dined with the evening prior. I caught a few of their eyes, and we shared private, knowing smiles. They knew as well as I did that this look was a costume to disguise my true self—but now they were in on the con, and my success at the dinner had earned their complicity.
Aemonn led me down to the ballroom floor where Remis and Garath were waiting. Remis looked over my attire with an approving nod. “Well chosen, Your Majesty. I presume we’re still aligned regarding our strategy for this evening?”
I fluttered my lashes with feigned empty-headedness. “Whatever you say, Regent.”
Garath’s upper lip twitched as he tried poorly to mask his distaste. “At least you dressed appropriately this time.”
His focus dropped to the golden medallion that hung between my breasts, then shifted to his son with a subtle nod.
Remis and Garath’s wives hovered behind their husbands. They gave me polite nods but otherwise made no effort to approach. In fact, unlike both their husbands and their children, neither woman had made any effort at all to speak with me since my arrival.