But also exhilarated.
That morning she’d been too overwhelmed, too shocked, to truly take in what she had access to now. But this time, she’d felt it—she’d felt all of it. There was so much power. Far more than she had ever imagined. And despite her ignominious start, Evelayn couldn’t keep herself from laughing with a surprised joy that filled her entire body.
“Are you all right, Princess?” Lord Tanvir was there, holding out his hand to help her up. But she ignored it, climbing to her feet on her own.
“Quite all right.” She grinned, even though Dela was standing across the field, directing a jet of water from the bucket at her feet up into the tree where Evelayn’s first attempt had gone high and wide, setting a branch on fire.
Kelwyn smiled back at her, for once not lecturing her on proper behavior. “Isn’t it marvelous?”
“I had no idea,” Evelayn agreed, still slightly breathless. “Let’s do it again.”
“Of course, Your Highness,” Kelwyn agreed. “But first, let’s discuss what you did wrong.”
CEREN PACED THE LENGTH OF THE LUNCHEON ROOM despite the irritated looks her mother kept flashing her from where she sat, eating with a large group of the royal court. They looked like a brightly arrayed flock of birds gathered around the table that ran from one end of the room to the other. But Ceren had finished her meal long ago and there was still no sign of Evelayn. It was unusual for the princess to miss a meal, especially on a day like today; but if the quiet mutterings at both breakfast and luncheon were true, the queen hadn’t returned from the warfront yet, and Ceren knew how excited Evelayn had been at the prospect of seeing her mother. She’d been more excited about that than the fact that she would be coming into her full power.
Ceren was certain Evelayn’s full power had come with the breaking of the dawn, but the queen hadn’t, and she also was certain that the queen’s continued absence had probably devastated her friend. However, rather than letting her go search for Evelayn, Ceren’s mother had forced her to come to luncheon with the rest of the court, claiming that Evelayn would send for her if she wanted company.
The noise of the conversations flowed over her as she marched back and forth, her own one-person rebellion, so that she only caught snippets here and there.
“—they say that ten more from the same battalion died of their wounds the next day—”
“—can’t honestly believe that color of fabric is attractive, can she? Yellow is never a good idea with green skin—”
“—noticed a difference, but Prinlor claims that he’s felt his power diminishing slightly every year that this war continues and—”
“—her infant is already talking and she thinks that means she’s going to be—”
Ceren could barely keep from scowling at the ridiculousness of it all. The mundane mixed with the vital, neither seeming to have greater import to the members of the court. As if a fashion faux pas is just as troubling as the death count from the warfront, she thought caustically. Which was all too easy for them to discuss as they ate their fruit salad, vegetable soup, and fresh rolls in the comfort and safety of the castle, far from the horrors Ceren imagined existed on the borders of their kingdom where so many priestesses and Light Draíolon fought to keep the wards up and the Dark Draíolon out.
When the door opened and a page entered the room, holding a tray with a white card, Ceren nearly closed her eyes to pray it would be for her, but there was no need. He searched the room and, as soon as he spotted her, brought her the tray. She recognized Evelayn’s writing and the tightness that she hadn’t even realized was squeezing her heart released slightly.
My dearest Ceren,
Please attend me in my private quarters for luncheon. I apologize if you have already lunched, but pray that you will still indulge my request.
Yours,
Princess Evelayn of éadrolan
“If you will please excuse me, the princess requests my presence.” Ceren curtsied in the general direction of her mother and then hurried to follow the page out before anyone could ask her to deliver a message to Evelayn or otherwise delay her.
A few minutes later Ceren burst into Evelayn’s outer chamber to find the princess sitting at her table, with more food than one person could ever hope to eat spread in front of her. The sunlight reflected off the hint of lavender in her pale blonde hair, which was intricately arranged around the small diadem for the ball that night. But she still only wore a day dress, not the elaborate gown the castle seamstresses had been working on for weeks in preparation for the celebration.
“Ceren!” Evelayn turned at the sound of the door with a smile on her face, which released the tightness in Ceren’s chest even more as she hurried forward to embrace her friend.
“Happy birthday, Ev,” Ceren said as she took a seat across the table from her. “I’m so sorry about your mother …”
She almost immediately regretted bringing it up when worry clouded Evelayn’s face momentarily, but then she shrugged and picked up the roll she’d been eating before Ceren’s arrival and took another bite. “There’s nothing to be done about it now. She must have had pressing business to attend to at the warfront. I only hope she’s safe.”
I’m sure she is. The words were right there, ready to be spoken, but Ceren merely nodded, knowing that with this war, there were no guarantees. She remembered all too well the day Evelayn had learned that her father had been killed in battle. But surely the queen was still alive—they still had their power, after all. “I’m sure she would have come if it were at all possible.”
“I suppose this means my aunt Rylese will have to escort me to the ball now.” Evelayn made a face. Ceren didn’t know King Drystan’s older sister very well, but she knew Evelayn was often irritated with Rylese for lecturing her and treating her like she was still a youngling.
Ceren reached for a few grapes. Now that she was with Evelayn her appetite had returned. “Maybe she’ll treat you differently now that you’ve come into your full power?”
“Maybe,” Evelayn echoed unconvincingly, but then her violet eyes lit up. “Which reminds me—Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Tell you what?”
“About the power! About how incredible it is.” Evelayn’s food lay forgotten as she leaned forward. Her conduit stone—the diamond that she’d been born with, embedded about an inch below the center of her collarbone, just like her mother—flashed in the sunlight. “That’s why I missed luncheon. I just couldn’t bring myself to stop training. By the end I summoned my first sun-sword, and I was even hitting the targets consistently. Not as well as Lord Tanvir, but considering it’s only my first day, I think they were impressed.”