“No one will fault you for it, Ev. You had just learned your mother was …” Ceren cringed as she trailed off.
Evelayn’s jaw tightened, the only sign she still didn’t have total control, but then she responded, “And yet, I refuse to show such weakness ever again. My subjects will be looking to me for strength. To somehow save them.”
Tanvir’s stomach twisted at the thought of her bearing up the weight of what was now coming to rest on her shoulders. But what else could he have done? At least he’d saved her this morning. That unexpected twist to King Bain’s attack hadn’t succeeded.
“Lord Tanvir, will you please send word to General Kelwyn to meet me in the throne room immediately? And please also send word that I am assembling a meeting with all the High Lords, priestesses, and advisors from my mother’s council present at the castle.”
Before he could respond, she turned to her only close friend and continued, “Ceren, will you find Tyne and ask her to have every available servant make sure refreshments are available in all the major rooms? And then if you could go help comfort those who seem most upset by this morning’s turn of events, and assure them that I am handling it—that I will make Bain pay for what he has done—I would greatly appreciate it.”
Ceren blinked and then nodded. “Of course, Ev. Whatever you need me to do.”
Evelayn turned to Tanvir expectantly, and he, too, nodded. “Of course,” he echoed Ceren.
“Do you want me to help you change first?” Ceren asked.
“No,” Evelayn replied immediately. “My people don’t need to see me in a dress to be comforted right now, they need to know that I am taking care of them—of éadrolan. And I will. I will.” The fierceness of her declaration was tinged with desperation, but Tanvir couldn’t help the swell of pride within him.
Yet, grief, especially when buried, had a way of rearing its head at the worst of times, sometimes leading to terrible mistakes and decisions, as he well knew. He could only hope that she was truly as in control of herself as she seemed. For her sake—and for all of éadrolan.
Exhaustion bore down on Evelayn, but she refused to give in to it. She’d tried to lie down to take a quick nap earlier, after hours and hours of meetings—mostly full of alarm and speculation, as no official word had reached them yet from the battlefront—but the moment she’d rested her head and closed her eyes, the loss of her mother had knifed through her again, fresh and agonizing once more. She didn’t dare let herself cry, couldn’t allow herself to mourn. She had to be strong. Her subjects were counting on it. And if she let herself break down, even in private, she was afraid the tenuous control she’d managed to wrestle into place earlier would crumble, leaving her a mess once again.
So she’d stood back up, dressed once more, and gone to the battlements to pace, watching with her sentries. High Priestess Teca had stayed long after everyone else to go over what Evelayn had to do to transfer the Light Power to her conduit stone. They only had three days from the time her mother was killed to reclaim it, or the power would return to the Immortal Tree deep inside the Sliabán Mountains from whence Draíolon power had supposedly originated before time began.
Evelayn knew how the first Light and Dark Draíolon had been gifted their powers to bring day and night, summer and winter, to the world—to work together to create a perfect harmony. And she also knew what happened when a queen of éadrolan or a king of Dorjhalon died. The power remained dormant in their conduit stone for three days and the new queen or king had to complete a special ceremony to transfer the power to their own stone. If they were too late, the power returned to the Immortal Tree, and the monarch would have to travel to the sacred interior of the Sliabán Mountains, where the tree thrived without water or light, sustained by the power that flowed through it. But High Priestess Teca had explained it in much more detail, going over exactly what Evelayn had to do once her mother was returned to the castle.
It was yet another weight added to Evelayn’s shoulders. If her mother’s body wasn’t brought back soon enough … if she failed to complete the ceremony …
There was an uncommon bite to the breeze that ruffled the cloak she’d hastily thrown on before leaving the silence of her room, a chill that made her wonder if their world was already changing because of her mother’s death. It was summer—the height of éadrolan’s power. It should have been a balmy, mild night. Instead, she shivered as another gust sent a few strands of hair across her face. It was second nature to lift her hand, ready to summon light to warm herself. The chill sank much deeper than her skin when nothing happened and she had to let her arm drop to her side, the realization that her power was gone hitting her all over again.
Evelayn wrapped her arms around her waist, squeezing tight, trying to hold back the dread that threatened to crash over her now that she was alone, powerless. All day she’d done her best to act like she was strong—in control. To pretend she was the queen her people needed, that she had to be for them. But the truth was, she was scared. No, she was terrified. Bain had killed her mother. What hope did she have of defeating him?
Despite her best intentions, Evelayn’s eyes began to burn. She blinked rapidly to force back the tears. And when that didn’t work, she turned her face to the wind, letting it dry the moisture from her eyes.
“Your Highness—I mean, Majesty—”
Evelayn jumped and whirled around to see Lord Tanvir hesitating on the last step leading up to the turret where she stood.
“What are you doing up?” She hadn’t meant it to sound so accusatory, and she grimaced when he flinched. He wore only a white linen shirt, loose breeches, and knee-high boots. His hair was hastily tied back, as though he’d done it himself, rather than called an attendant. He looked how he did when he met her early in the morning to go running, after he’d just rolled out of bed.
“I couldn’t sleep,” he said simply. “And I thought perhaps you, too, would find this to be a difficult night to rest.”
“So you hunted me down.”
Tanvir grimaced this time. “I wouldn’t call it hunting you. But I was walking the hallways and did hear some sentries talking as they switched shifts. They seemed concerned that you were up here alone. I told them I would come check on you.”
“My personal Light Sentries are standing guard at the base of the stairs. I’m not in any danger from attack.” Which wasn’t true, because if any Dark Draíolon made it to the castle before she succeeded in regaining her kingdom’s power, they would all be slaughtered.
“I’m not sure that’s what they were concerned about tonight.”