“My people,” she began, her voice echoing across the Great Hall, “we are gathered here to pay tribute to my mother, Queen Ilaria of éadrolan. She led with wisdom and grace, and she died in valor, defending our people and our lands. Long may her name be spoken for good.”
The crowd echoed, “Long may her name be spoken for good,” and then High Priestess Teca stepped forward, ready to begin her part of the ceremony, while Evelayn walked to the chair in the front row that had remained empty for her, surrounded by the Light Sentries now assigned to be her constant guards. They couldn’t do much until their power was restored, but they all bore Scíaths, presumably to surround her and deflect shadowflame or worse in the event of an attack. The large, silvery shields flashed in the sunlight, a vaguely comforting sight, but Evelayn wondered how long they would be able to hold off an attack if she didn’t regain their power first. It seemed as though the Scíaths would just delay the inevitable.
She sat there for the next hour, barely hearing a word that was spoken, staring at the white shroud, willing herself to remain in control just a little bit longer. She could feel the presence of Ceren and Tanvir behind her, but she never once turned her head toward them.
And then, finally, High Priestess Teca gestured for Evelayn to stand again.
Evelayn slowly rose to her feet and waited as two lines of Light Sentries hurried forward and simultaneously lifted the poles on either side of Queen Ilaria, raising the mat and her body off the marble. Then they moved forward, careful to keep her body level as they marched down the aisle. Evelayn followed directly behind them, with High Priestess Teca and the rest of the priestesses after her. This was the hardest part, but at least it would also be done without the prying eyes of all those gathered. The crowd had to wait in the Great Hall while the ceremony was performed in the sacred coppice near the Dawn Temple where the previous monarchs had been buried.
It was a relief to walk out of the palace, away from the inquisitive gazes and the weight of her people’s judgments. The sun was merciless as they crossed the manicured lawns, but soon the forest enveloped the procession in jade-tinted shade.
They moved quickly, knowing time was short, and within a few minutes the trees opened up into the clearing where a circle of white stones had been prepared next to the headstone marking her father’s grave. The forest was abnormally quiet as the Light Sentries carefully laid the queen’s body down in the center of the stones. One by one, they knelt around the circle and let their heads bow forward, paying one final tribute to Queen Ilaria. And then they stood and melted back into the forest, leaving only Evelayn and the priestesses.
“Are you ready?” High Priestess Teca looked to Evelayn.
No, her heart shouted, but Evelayn nodded.
“Do you remember what you must do?”
Evelayn took a deep breath and then nodded again. “Yes.” The word was a mere whisper.
Fear threatened to consume her. Her lungs felt tight, as if she couldn’t get enough air. The priestesses had to use their combined abilities to draw the power from Queen Ilaria’s stone and join it back to Sliabán—to the Immortal Tree. Once the priestesses summoned the power back, they had to direct it to Evelayn’s conduit stone as quickly as possible, before it overwhelmed and killed them all. And then it was her turn—the final act to reclaim the Light Power for éadrolan. Evelayn had to call down the force of the sun to consume her mother’s body. The kings of éadrolan were buried, but the queens … they were taken back to the Light in totality, conduit stone and all. There had been no time for practicing, only a rushed explanation of what she must do.
Hands trembling, Evelayn moved so that she was at the head of the ring of white stones. The hush of the forest was almost unnerving, as if every living thing was holding a collective breath, waiting and watching her.
Slowly, she lifted her hands so that the gauzy sleeves of her dress fell back, exposing her forearms. The power is connected to your thoughts, to your very will, just as it always has been, Teca had told her. You must concentrate. Think of nothing else but your desire to accomplish this task and force the power to bend to your control.
Evelayn inhaled slowly through her nose, trying to control her building anxiety by filling her lungs and then, as she exhaled through her mouth, she nodded. There was no point delaying. They had to complete the ceremony quickly or the time would run out and she would have to journey to the Immortal Tree and try to reclaim the power by herself, without the aid of her priestesses.
If Bain didn’t slaughter them all first.
High Priestess Teca and the other six priestesses chosen for the ceremony immediately took their places around the circle. The priestesses all joined hands and began to intone something in the old language, quietly at first, but gradually becoming louder and louder. Evelayn stared down at her mother’s shrouded figure as their voices rose up to the sky, filled the still air, and plunged deep into the earth.
At first there was nothing but their words and the silent forest. When Evelayn reached for her power, there was only emptiness.
But then she felt it. Something growing, building around them—humming through the grass beneath their feet, flying toward them on the wind, rising from her mother’s body beneath the white sheet. The priestesses’ voices grew strained, and Evelayn looked up to see Teca staring at her, her normally petal-pink eyes almost completely white. The power was flowing back into them, filling the priestesses’ bodies. They had to send it to her so it could be channeled through her conduit stone now. But rather than taking the next step, they were all frozen, staring at her, repeating the same phrase over and over.
Panic bubbled through Evelayn’s body, a rush of terror that slicked her hands with sweat. Something was wrong. She was supposed to do something to transfer the power, but she couldn’t remember what. Teca’s eyes widened—she looked like she was in pain.
“What should I do? What’s happening?” Evelayn stared in horror as a few of the priestesses began to tremble, their entire bodies shivering violently from the force of the power they had drawn upon. But, still, they didn’t let go of each other.
Out of sheer desperation, Evelayn seized the hands of the two priestesses closest to her—one on each side. The surge of power was instantaneous—and excruciating. Her entire body hummed with it, burned with it, expanded until she felt as though she would explode from the fire in her veins, in her bones and muscles and skin.
The conduit stone, some voice of reason whispered beneath the agony. Force it to the conduit stone.
But how? There was nothing but pain and blinding, all-consuming power. With this amount of power she could do anything. The world was hers to command—except that there was no controlling it. Instead, she would die. They would all die …