But Ceren had already grabbed the door and flung it open, bursting out into the hallway, where the chaos continued. She ignored her mother’s pleas as she plunged into the surge of Draíolon rushing through the castle. To do what, she couldn’t imagine. As she dashed toward the stairs that would take her up to Evelayn’s room, the original shock of their loss of power seemed to be giving way to sheer anguish. The air was thick with the acrid tang of it.
It was a relief to fling open Evelayn’s door and quickly shut it again, closing off the majority of sounds and smells. But the relief was short-lived when Ceren quickly searched the room and realized there was still no sign of Evelayn.
Loath to return to the chaos beyond the door, Ceren hurried over to the window to see if she could spot her friend outside.
Sunlight poured over the grounds, turning the grass emerald and reflecting off the other buildings of the castle. Bright and beautiful and completely at odds with the terror coursing through her veins. Ceren’s gaze darted across the grounds, where Draíolon were in just as much of an uproar as those in the castle. But then she noticed a small circle of males and females who were completely still, looking at something on the ground.
Ceren squinted, her eyesight sharpening, and that’s when she realized there was a girl on the ground, curled into a ball, a male hovering over her. She immediately recognized Evelayn’s flaxen hair with the pale lavender streaks and Tanvir’s bark-brown hair and the protective tightness to his body as he bent over her.
I’m coming, Ev. I’m coming.
Ceren turned and ran.
Some part of her knew that she needed to get up, that she needed to stop crying and act like the princess she was. Her people needed her; they needed comforting and guidance.
But Evelayn couldn’t do it.
Sobs tore through her body, through the emptiness that gaped like a terrible wound. She was vaguely aware of Tanvir speaking to her, his voice low and concerned, but his words didn’t penetrate the grief that throbbed through her head with the pounding of her blood.
She didn’t know how much time had passed, only that she never wanted to move from that spot. Moving meant she had to stand up and face a world where her mother no longer lived, where she would never again see her violet eyes light up when Evelayn walked into a room, or feel the warmth of her embrace. Where she would never again hear her voice.
“Ev.”
She shook her head, but Ceren reached out and gently brushed her fingers against the princess’s cheek. Evelayn’s tears came even harder.
“Ev, come with me. I’ll help you to your room.”
“I can’t,” Evelayn whispered. “She’s gone. She’s gone …”
“I know,” Ceren whispered back, her voice thick with choked emotion. “But we need to get you somewhere private. Come on, Ev. I know you can do it.”
She shook her head against the lawn, ignoring the murmurs of those gathered around them, no doubt cataloging every second of the spectacle of their princess losing control.
“Tanvir, help me,” she heard Ceren mutter, and a split second later he had scooped her up, pulling her into his arms, against his chest. Though he had to be exhausted after everything that had happened that morning on top of their extra-long run, he still found the strength to sprint toward the castle as quickly as possible. Evelayn didn’t speak, didn’t open her eyes. She just let herself bounce against Tanvir’s body, allowed him to carry her away from the probing eyes and whispers, as a door was opened and the daylight beyond her eyelids was replaced by the dimness of her home.
She was vaguely aware of being jostled, of Tanvir pushing his way through other Draíolon while Ceren shouted for them to move. But Evelayn tried to close it all out, to stay deep inside herself, where there was no sound, no judgment, no war, and no death. As he made his way to the stairs and carefully ascended, Tanvir’s arms tightened around her body.
“Here, come this way.”
It was quieter on this floor. Evelayn felt Tanvir nod at Ceren’s hushed directions, his chin brushing the top of her head. Moments later they entered a room—her room, she realized as she inhaled the familiar scent—and the door shut behind them, blocking out all noise except that of their breathing.
“Should I lay her on the bed?”
Ceren must have nodded this time, because Tanvir strode across the room and gently laid her down on her feather-stuffed mattress, her bed still unmade from when Ceren had slept in it.
“Ev, look at me.” Ceren’s voice was close, coaxing—concerned. “Please open your eyes.”
Evelayn shook her head again.
“I’m so sorry,” Ceren whispered, her words turning into a half-strangled sob. She took Evelayn’s hand in hers, gripping it tightly. “I can’t believe it, either.”
Tears leaked out from beneath Evelayn’s eyelashes, even though she’d squeezed them shut as tightly as possible.
“I should go …” Tanvir’s voice came from near the door, quiet and full of remorse.
Evelayn took a deep breath, inhaling through her nose to fill her lungs, trying somehow to stop the grief from consuming her.
And then she opened her eyes.
The curtains were still drawn, casting her room, Ceren, and Tanvir into shadow. Just as her entire world had been thrown into shadow. The darkness that relentlessly continued to spread from King Bain across Lachalonia, tearing families apart, and now this. Leaving éadrolan without a queen.
And that’s when it hit her. An icy realization that sharpened her grief into fear, hardened it to bitterness.
Evelayn’s gaze shot to Ceren’s, her eyes going wide.
When she finally spoke, her words were a hoarse whisper. “I’m the queen now.”
THOUGH SHE HAD SPOKEN IN A NEAR WHISPER, EVELAYN’S words sounded through the room like the blast of a war-horn. Tanvir watched as she squeezed Ceren’s hand once, and then let go to wipe her cheeks.
Her tears were suddenly gone, locked away as the sorrow that had turned her face even more pale than usual hardened into something else—something almost frightening. Her lavender-tinted hair was falling out of her braid, with pieces of grass and crushed leaves stuck in it. She was still in her running clothes, and her violet eyes were red-rimmed. The nearly overpowering scent of her grief still filled the room, but as Evelayn stood up, visibly composing herself, Tanvir watched her transform from a na?ve princess into a cool, collected queen of éadrolan.
“How many saw me?”
When she turned her gaze to him, Tanvir hesitated to answer. He knew she meant how many of her subjects had witnessed her collapse.
“Tell me.” Her tone made it clear it wasn’t a request.
“Perhaps twenty? More if those in the castle recognized you.” Tanvir tried not to grimace, but Evelayn merely nodded.
“That’s unfortunate. It won’t happen again.”
Ceren, who was still crouching beside Evelayn’s bed, slowly stood up, shooting a baffled—and concerned—glance at Tanvir, before turning to Evelayn. He couldn’t quite understand how Evelayn had controlled herself so quickly, so easily, after how distraught she’d been. At least, visibly. He could still scent her sorrow, but now there was more. Many emotions fought for control in his new queen.