“I did exactly as you instructed. You succeeded in killing Queen Ilaria. The plan succeeded.” Lorcan’s fingers twitched, his muscles tight in anticipation of his father’s next attack.
“She reclaimed her power! That is not success!” Another blast of shadowflame, but this time it exploded into the table, blasting it apart. Lorcan threw up another shield to protect himself from the debris.
The far door flung open, and Bain’s council hurried in, responding to the summons he’d immediately sent out. General Rednon, Maedre’s replacement, was first, followed by the others, General Caedmon entering last. Bain immediately went still, his fury masked—for the moment. But Lorcan saw Rednon’s eyes widen as he took in the destruction in the room.
“Do you feel that?” Bain asked, his voice deceptively calm. When no one answered, he barked, “General Rednon, I asked if you feel that!”
The general startled, his fire-orange eyes flying up to meet his king’s.
Run, Lorcan wanted to warn him. But there was no point. Running wouldn’t save him—it would just prolong what was coming. So instead, he watched silently as Rednon took a hesitant step forward.
“I’m not sure if I—”
“It got hotter a minute ago, wouldn’t you agree? And yet, there is no fire in the room. Why, exactly, do you think the temperature just rose … and my power waned?”
Rednon blanched.
“You said you would take care of her. You were supposed to keep this from happening.” Bain’s voice was a mere whisper, but it cut through the room like a sword.
Faster than the blink of an eye, the king shot writhing black cords of shadow to encircle Rednon’s body.
“Sire, I—”
The bindings tightened to cut off his words—and his air—so that his mouth merely opened and closed but no further sound came out.
“You failed me,” Bain snarled.
Lorcan watched with everyone else as Rednon turned red and then purple as he silently suffocated in front of them. The food Lorcan had managed to eat before the king’s outburst curdled in his stomach, but he stood stoically as his father murdered yet another Draíolon.
Finally, Bain released the cords and Rednon crumpled to the ground with a dull thud.
“And now what?” The king looked past the dead general to the rest of his council. “éadrolan has regained their power. The wards will be back up within the hour.”
There was only silence for a long moment, but then General Caedmon stepped forward. Lorcan barely hid his surprise. Caedmon had seemed smart enough to stay out of the focus as much as possible up until that point.
“Sire, if I may. I have an idea.”
Bain lifted his cold gaze to Caedmon’s disconcertingly pale eyes. “Indeed. Well, let’s hear it. And hope that you don’t join poor Rednon in his fate after failing me.”
Tanvir stood by the window until his legs cramped and his back ached, waiting and watching. The priestesses had returned and those gathered to mourn had already finished the feast prepared for them and begun to leave the castle to return to their homes in Solas or elsewhere. And still Evelayn had not returned.
He heard Lady Ceren approaching, but didn’t turn to acknowledge her.
“She still hasn’t come back?” Her question was quiet, hesitant.
“No.”
He hazarded a glance to see her watching him, her light blue eyes red-rimmed. This was Evelayn’s closest friend, her confidante, and really all that was left that could constitute family. “She’s been through a lot. Give her time.”
Tanvir’s eyebrows lifted. Did she know what had happened on the battlements? Of course she did; if there was anyone Evelayn would talk to, it would be Ceren.
“For what it’s worth, I think you did the right thing. I’m sure it wasn’t easy to try to protect her that way, even if she can’t see that yet.”
“Thank you,” Tanvir murmured as his gut twisted with guilt.
Ceren drew up beside him and turned to face the window, and he resumed his vigil. They were silent for a long time, watching the Draíolon come and go. But still no sign of the queen.
“I knew she could do it,” he finally spoke. “I knew she was strong enough to reclaim the power.”
“I believed in her, too,” Ceren agreed.
Tanvir’s gaze traveled over the thinning stream of Draíolon. Most who didn’t live at the castle had left, hurrying to beat the charcoal clouds that had formed on the horizon and now tumbled toward them from the west, heavy with rain. “I think her people were sad she didn’t come back to celebrate regaining their power with them.”
“Would you have felt like celebrating today—even if you had brought back power to your kingdom?” Ceren glanced up at him again.
“No.”
“If I had to guess, I would say she’s probably at the Lake of Swans. That’s where she usually goes when she wants to be alone or when she’s upset.”
“She’ll be soaked if she stays out in this storm. It’s not safe.”
Ceren turned toward him and waited until he looked down at her once more. “She’ll come to us when she’s ready.” She placed one hand on his arm, a gentle touch to let him know she understood. And then, with a final glance out the window, Ceren curtsied to him. “Good evening, Lord Tanvir. And remember, be patient.”
He bowed and watched her go before turning back to the window, just as the first few droplets of rain splattered against the glass, running down the pane like tears.
CEREN ABSENTLY CUT UP THE MANGO SLICES ON HER plate, but the majority of her focus was on Evelayn, sitting at the head of the table, her dinner untouched. Ceren still wasn’t used to seeing her closest friend’s white-blonde hair intricately woven around the diamond-studded diadem Queen Ilaria had always worn. Her mourning dress was gauzy, silver and white, symbolizing the deceased’s entrance into eternal rest in the world beyond this, a place of light and beauty. Evelayn was stunning—even pale and grieving, with dark bruises beneath her violet eyes. In fact, every time Ceren glanced across the table at Lord Tanvir, his gaze was on the new queen, his expression a mix of longing, regret, and concern. But Evelayn was oblivious, staring down at her plate, pushing the fruit and delicate pastries around her plate with her fork, never taking a bite.
“What is she going to do?” the Draíolon with mulberry-colored hair seated next to Ceren whispered to her, pulling Ceren’s attention away from Tanvir and Evelayn. “King Bain won’t wait much longer to launch a full-scale attack against us—mark my words.”