Luther dissolved his magic and looked me over carefully. He offered out his elbow. “May I escort you?”
I hesitated, then slipped my hand through and set my palm on his forearm. Even through the thick fabric of his doublet, I felt the same buzz of energy pass between us as if our flesh were bare.
“Your father is here,” he said. “I had the guards take him to the meeting room.” He paused. “I have to ask… are you certain about this? Once you present him as your advisor, there’s no going back. The Houses will want to know everything about him, including his relationship to you.”
I forced down a lump in my throat. No, I wasn’t certain. Just the thought of exposing my father to the powerful Descended at these House Receptions made my pulse race.
I glanced up at him. “You promised me that if I claimed House Corbois, you would protect my friends and family. Do you still intend to keep that promise?”
He said nothing, but it was the look he gave me, the vow that smoldered in his expression, that spoke a thousand words. A vow to fight—with his life, if it came to it—to protect me and everything I cared for.
“And you still believe you can keep them safe, even if their connection to me is known?”
“I have my most loyal guards on your father and on Teller, as well as with Maura and the healer’s center.” He frowned. “But Henri…”
“I know,” I sighed. “Having guards watch him would do more harm than good.”
Luther nodded. “I trust my men, but if they were to discover his involvement with the Guardians, it would be dangerous—for both of you.” He stared down the hall as his jaw flexed. “Once you present him as your betrothed, I’ll make arrangements for an escort, if he will accept one.”
I didn’t respond. Henri would never consent to being followed by Descended guards, but that did not answer the real question that lay in Luther’s words.
We walked in silence, our steps heavy with the weight of everything that had passed between us last night.
“Any last suggestions?” I said with a chipper smile that I was certain he could see right through. “Eleanor already warned me not to ask Evrim about his brother’s gambling habit or bring up what happened at the last Forging Ball.”
“Good advice. He’ll never live that night down.” His lips slid into a smirk. “He’s also very touchy about his height.”
My grin turned real—and wicked. “I’ll tuck that little gem away for use at a later date.”
Luther let out a dark chuckle that made my chest go fluttery, then a calm focus took hold of his features.
“Evrim uses fear over the mortals to cover his real interest, which is the profit he stands to make if the war escalates. The more scared everyone is, the more weapons they buy from him.”
“Interesting. So you don’t think he really hates the mortals?”
“No, though he’s happy to encourage it with the other Houses. Other than House Corbois, House Benette is the most powerful of the Twenty Houses, but also the easiest to manipulate. They will always go where the money is.”
My mind wrestled with the potential of that information. As we approached the meeting room, the sound of belly laughter roared from within. Luther and I shared a confused look.
When I entered, Taran had his arm slung around my father’s shoulders in a near-headlock. Though my father was strongly built for a mortal, he looked comically tiny beside Taran, who was massive even by Descended standards. Eleanor’s hands were clasped in my father’s, the three of them laughing so hard tears had formed at the corners of their eyes.
“Queenie!” Taran called out. “Your father’s telling us how you refused to wear clothes for a month straight.”
“And how you set all your dresses on fire because you couldn’t climb trees in them,” Eleanor added.
I blinked at what I was seeing—my father, joking with my new Descended friends as if they were old chums. Something warm and precious burst in my heart.
“When she was four, she couldn’t pronounce the letter S without spitting,” my father said with a grin. “For months, she walked around drooling all over the house.”
“Father!” I shouted, laughing. I ran up and gave him a kiss on his cheek. “You’re supposed to advise me on how to torture them, not the other way around.”
“Too late,” Taran said. “We’re going to make him a regular at Corbois dinners.”
My stomach churned at that suggestion.
“Your Highness,” my father said to Luther with a deep nod.
Luther returned the gesture, his expression now hardened into his typical firm facade. “Good to see you again, sir. And please, call me Luther.”
Between the four of us, I wasn’t sure whose face looked the most shocked. Luther’s insistence on titles bordered on pathological. Every time I gave someone leave to call me Diem rather than Your Majesty, he cringed so hard I thought he might be experiencing actual, physical pain. Though he tolerated his closest friends using his name in private, I’d never seen him permit it from a stranger—and certainly not in formal meetings such as these.
“How nice to finally have some pretty faces to look at during these dreadful Council meetings,” Aemonn said, flashing me a smile as he strolled in with his father.
“What are they doing here?” Garath demanded, jerking his chin to Eleanor and my father. “They aren’t on the Council.”
“Good morning to you, as well,” I clipped.
He scowled. “Your Majesty,” he gritted out in reluctant greeting.
I gave him my sunniest smile. “Actually, I have appointed Eleanor and my f—Andrei as my advisors. They are the first, and thus far only, members of my Council.”
“Along with your High General,” Luther corrected, his eyes still twinkling with victory over his accidental appointment at last night’s ball.
Garath eyed my father. “The other Houses will be furious to see a mortal on the Council when they’ve been demanding their own seat for centuries.”
“Andrei was already an advisor to the late King on mortal matters,” I said. “This is merely a continuation of Ulther’s approach, as Remis and I discussed.”
Garath started to spit something back, and I rolled my eyes and turned my back to him in a blatant dismissal. I could feel the daggers slicing into my back from his incensed glare.
My father stared at me with a tight expression that seemed to rotate through awe, confusion, and dismay. “If my presence is a problem, I’m happy to—”
“Nonsense, Commander,” I said firmly, hoping he heard the pride in my tone. “The Crown Council is mine to appoint. End of discussion.”
Voices approached, and soon Remis appeared with Evrim and a small entourage. We briefly made introductions while Eleanor took my father’s hand and lurked in the background.
I took my seat in the center of the room, a large stone-walled chamber that was far more austere than the rest of the palace. A tapestry of the goddess Lumnos hung as a backdrop behind a throne-like wooden chair, which was carved with the sun-and-moon sigil of the realm and surrounded by the crests of the Twenty Houses. Remis and Garath sat on either side of me, with the rest of the Council spread in an arc behind us. Evrim sat directly opposite me, his chair far simpler and slightly lower-set, with his own advisors seated behind him.