“Hard to believe the great Andrei Bellator was taken down by a house fire,” one of my father’s friends said. He shot a dubious glance at the blackened crater nearby. “Must have been some fire.”
Teller and I exchanged a look. Though the search for his killer continued, we’d agreed to publicly declare our father’s death as an accident—a forgotten candle, tragically fallen over while he slept. Teller hadn’t liked it, but I was barely keeping the war off our doorstep as it was. If the Guardians discovered the Descended had murdered an innocent mortal in his own home, their retaliation would be swift—and deadly.
“We heard about the attack in Lumnos City,” the man went on. “If you need the army’s help, Your Majesty, we’d be honored to serve you.”
I swallowed down my disgust. I didn’t want the army anywhere near my realm. More soldiers, more weapons—it could only end in blood.
“It’s getting bad everywhere,” another man said. “The rebels have destroyed damn near half the ports in Meros.”
“They’re ruining things for everyone,” another spat. “I hear Meros might close its borders to mortals. Soon, there won’t be any place left for us at all.”
Several nodded, while others watched me curiously, awaiting my response.
When I offered nothing, one of the older men—Gavert, a mortal who still served as an army officer, looked down at the grave with a heavy exhale. “We could have used Andrei’s wisdom. He had a talent for setting aside his emotion and striking right at the heart of the issue.”
“Indeed,” I murmured.
I was haunted by my last interaction with my father. At the time, his advice had felt like an insult, so much like a blow.
I’d give everything to be wounded by him like that again. I would bleed at his hand forever, if it meant he was still at my side.
“Maybe we should talk this genius brother of yours into enlisting,” Gavert said, jerking his chin at Teller. “When the war heats up, we’ll need smart men like him in the rank and file.”
I shot Teller a look that said don’t even think about it, but I already knew he wouldn’t be tempted. Though he could fight as well as I could, he’d always seen our training as a chore. His dreams of greatness lay in books, not in battle.
“You really think war is coming?” Teller asked him.
“It’s already here,” I said. A few of the men confirmed my words with solemn nods.
With the stories and tears both dried up, I thanked everyone for coming and brought the funeral to a close. The guests fell into idle conversation, and Maura came around to my side.
“How are you holding up, dear? With your parents, and with—” Her eyes flicked up to the Crown. “—everything else?”
“I’m fine,” I said mechanically, flashing a false smile.
“I’ve known you too long to believe that lie,” she scolded. “Your mother disappears, your whole world turns upside down, your poor father dies, and now your home is gone.” Her bottom lip quivered. “It’s too much. The gods are asking too much of you.”
A laugh broke free before I could stop it, causing Maura’s frown to worsen. I didn’t feel as if the gods were asking anything of me—I felt they’d abandoned me entirely.
“Truly Maura, I’m alright.” I reached out to brush her tears away, and I pushed a bit more effort into making my smile look genuine. “How are things at the healers’ center? I hope my departure hasn’t been too much of a burden.”
Maura swatted at my hand. “Don’t you dare worry about us.” She beckoned the other healers over, and they offered up condolences, which I accepted with the hollow, edgeless calm that had become my permanent facade. “I promoted Lana to full healer status, so she’s taken on your work. The others are putting in extra time to join her as soon as they can.”
Lana loitered at the back of the group, as far from me as she could politely stand. Ever since spotting each other at my first Guardians meeting, things had been awkward between us. I felt ashamed for having failed her as her mentor, and considering my dramatic exit from the rebels and my new status as a Descended Queen, I imagined she felt petrified I might have her executed as a traitor.
“You’ll tell me if you need anything, won’t you?” I asked Maura. “I’ve already placed orders to the other realms for the herbs mortals aren’t allowed to buy. Send me a list of supplies you’re short on, and I’ll ensure it’s taken care of.”
“That’s very generous, Di—I mean, um, Your Majesty,” she corrected with a blush.
“I will always be Diem to you, Maura. All of you.” My eyes roamed the other healers, pausing on Lana with what I hoped was a meaningful look.
“Is there anything we can do for you?” Maura asked.
“There is one thing,” I started slowly. “There’s a kind of test I must pass before I’m coronated.”
“The Challenging,” she said, nodding. “We’ve heard the details around town.” Her chocolate-brown eyes sparkled with new tears. “Such an awful thing.”
“I’m confident I’ll get through it,” I lied, “but if I don’t, my brother—he’ll be…” Fear tangled with the words in my throat.
Maura squeezed my hand. “My wife and I will take care of him. As long as we live, Teller will have family here.”
“Thank you. The royals have promised to care for him, too, but…”
I stopped short of admitting that, if I died, I wasn’t convinced the Corbois would remember me as anything more than a sad story to share over drinks. They meant well now, but Descended lives were long, and my time in their family would last only a month.
Luther won’t forget, my conscience pushed at me. He’ll keep his word to you, even if you die.
I winced and banished the thoughts.
“We’ll look out for him,” Maura insisted with a pat on my hand. “Don’t you worry.”
I pulled her into an appreciative hug and promised I would come into town to see them all again soon. As they walked away, I tugged on Lana’s arm and dropped my voice low. “Lana, I know you and I have never discussed our, um… mutual acquaintances.”
She stared, wide-eyed and shaking. “Are you going to punish me?”
“How could I? You’ve committed no crime I am not guilty of myself.”
Her look of relief quickly gave way to suspicion. “The night of the ball… they said someone controlled their minds. That was because of you, wasn’t it?”
I stepped closer, and she edged away. “There were children in that ballroom, Lana. And the Guardians were far more outnumbered than they realized. They all would have died—Henri would have died. I couldn’t let that happen.”
Her throat worked. “So you still love him?”
I stared at the ground, unsure how to answer. Unsure if I even knew the answer.
“I doubt it matters,” I said. “He must hate me now.”
We both looked painfully uncomfortable, shifting on our feet and avoiding each other’s gaze. I knew Lana often worked with Henri on rebel missions, and from how I’d seen them chat excitedly at meetings, I suspected they’d become friends. I couldn’t bear to look her in the eyes and risk seeing my fears confirmed.