Tanvir looked miserable but he didn’t argue with her. Instead he dropped his gaze to the ground that separated them.
They were silent for a few moments, the tension building and building until it seemed a wall stood between them that she didn’t know how to break down. Finally, she said, “You should go.”
His eyes met hers once more, pleading. “Please don’t do this.”
Though she still longed for his touch, Evelayn made herself stand up straighter, forced the mask she wore during the day into place. “I just need to be alone.”
He studied her for a long moment, until her heart began to race once again, but he finally nodded. “If that’s your wish, Your Majesty.”
The use of her new title stung, yet she refused to let him see that.
He headed for the stairs, then paused. Evelayn stiffened, unaccountably nervous. What more was there to say?
Tanvir turned to gaze at her, his face full of unmasked grief. “I do care for you, Evelayn. I fear that I care for you far more deeply than is good for either of us. I hope that you will soon be grateful for my control this night. If I lose you, too, it would be unbearable. Your friendship has meant the world to me … in a world where I had little reason to feel anything other than remorse or pain. Regardless of the outcome of this night, I want to thank you for that. And tell you how very sorry I am.”
Evelayn blinked, unsure if she’d truly seen a sheen of moisture in his eyes. But then he turned and was gone, leaving her chilled and alone, with nothing but the wind to keep her company.
EVEN THOUGH THEY WERE WHISPERED, EVELAYN STILL heard the murmurs as she slowly moved down the aisle toward the marble table where her mother’s body lay, shrouded by a white sheet. Hundreds of Light Draíolon had packed into the Great Hall for the funeral—and, apparently, to see the new queen.
“She only turned eighteen a few weeks ago, how can she possibly succeed when both of her parents failed?”
“She’s too young and her power isn’t controlled yet. King Bain will rule both Dorjhalon and éadrolan in weeks, mark my words.”
Evelayn pretended not to hear them, determinedly staring ahead, avoiding the white sheet. All there was to see was the outline of her mother’s body, not her face or the hole in her chest where King Bain had managed to get past all her defenses and blast away her power and her life. But Evelayn had seen both last night when they’d finally rushed Queen Ilaria to the palace. It had taken two days. Two horrible, long days in which Evelayn didn’t sleep and could barely eat, pacing the palace floors and turrets, waiting … and watching. And finally, finally, they had come late the night before. The army had retreated before Bain could slaughter them all, hurrying as quickly as possible, without the aid of their power, shielded only by the Scíaths, back to the palace.
Evelayn stood so tall that her shoulder blades were nearly pinched together beneath the elaborate white-and-gray dress she had donned for the official funeral. Though her pulse pounded a staccato of fear and anguish against her throat, Evelayn refused to let it show on her face or in her posture. She’d vowed never to cry in front of her people again after that first terrible morning on the lawn, when she’d realized what had happened. Though she’d come close to losing it that night on the turret with Tanvir, so far she’d managed to keep her vow. Evelayn was now the only living monarch in éadrolan—and her people were watching her closely.
But thinking of that night was a dangerous path as well, fraught with pain and humiliation, and she made herself cut the thoughts off.
Evelayn couldn’t believe so many had gathered when the funeral had been thrown together so quickly. Because the army had barely made it back in time, she and the High Priestesses had only until this afternoon—the third day—to perform the ceremony that would transfer the Light Power to Evelayn’s conduit stone. The previous night, High Priestess Teca had explained yet again what would happen, but Evelayn had had a hard time absorbing it. She still couldn’t quite believe any of this was real and not some terrible nightmare from which she would awaken at any moment. Only the body lying at the front of the Great Hall testified to how very real the horrors of the last three days truly were.
When she reached the front, Evelayn paused for a moment, staring down at the white sheet. Then she slowly knelt down and let her head bow forward to rest lightly against the cool marble.
Tears burned frighteningly close to the surface, and though it was perfectly reasonable for her to cry at her mother’s funeral, Evelayn refused to show even a small amount of weakness. Only Ceren, Tanvir, and the other Draíolon on the lawn that day had been witness to her breakdown. From that moment she’d remained stoic, resolute. Even when they’d carried Queen Ilaria’s body into the palace. Even when she’d stared down at her mother’s bloodless, discolored face and known in a horrible, gut-hollowing way that never again would she hear her mother’s voice, never again would she see her smile. Evelayn had understood it in her mind, but at that moment, the reality finally reached her heart, turning her cold.
Evelayn inhaled slowly, breathing in the thick, musky scent of the flowers that encircled the marble table. They were layered in rows, a sea of colors and smells, to cover up the faint stench of decay that had already begun to cling to the remains of the former queen. Only once she had regained complete control did Evelayn stand and turn to face the assembled Light Draíolon.
High Priestess Teca waited off to her right, watching for Evelayn’s signal to begin the ceremony to officially lay Queen Ilaria’s body to rest eternally beside her husband, who had died ten years earlier—and to transfer the power to their daughter, the new queen of éadrolan.
Evelayn looked out at the sea of faces, all staring at her expectantly, some with pity and sorrow creasing their foreheads or twisting their mouths into frowns, some sitting stiffly, eyebrows lifted and arms crossed. Finally, she found Ceren’s familiar cornflower blue eyes, swimming with tears. Beside her was Lord Tanvir. He nodded slightly at Evelayn, an unspoken encouragement. She couldn’t allow herself to feel anything as their eyes met, as the horrible night on the turret crept back into her mind.
Evelayn tore her gaze away and took a deep breath. She just had to get through this; every minute wasted was another minute closer to losing their power permanently.