Normally, she would have had to summon light to be able to safely make the trek through the forest, but with her sharpened eyesight, Evelayn could see almost perfectly in the dark. She carefully picked her way down the path until suddenly the trees opened up to the night sky above and the lake below. And there on the glass-like water glided the flock of swans, their white feathers a beacon in the darkness.
Evelayn walked over to the log she thought of as hers, where she’d spent countless hours with her father, her mother, and by herself. Carefully gathering the exquisite gown into her arms, she sat down and took a deep breath, inhaling the sultry night air, more fragrant than it had ever been before, with the perfume of summer flowers, the freshness of the thriving greenery, and the musk of the rich soil beneath it all. Though they had kept their distance, Evelayn could scent the sentries as well—one of clove and fig, and the other of sunflowers and rain—and something else, beneath the surface, nuances that she’d never experienced before. She knew from what others had told her that they were emotions, feelings, and that she would soon learn how to recognize what they meant.
If she had to guess right now, Evelayn was fairly certain the faint sourness meant both sentries were bored, possibly even irritated. And if they could scent her, they probably knew she was upset, and full of trepidation.
She was sure to get an earful from Aunt Rylese for her behavior—first going down into the crowd, then dancing, then disappearing without a formal good night to her guests—but if it meant a few stolen moments of peace, it would be worth it. She could still feel the phantom heat on the small of her back from Lord Tanvir’s hand, where he’d led her through the dance and had nearly succeeded in getting past her defenses. She was the world’s greatest fool to have thought he was different from the rest of the nobility. All any of them wanted was the chance to become king, to father the next queen of éadrolan. She was nothing more than a means to an end for any of them.
“Stop moping,” she whispered to herself, “and get on with it.”
It took a moment before she could follow her own advice. But finally, with a deep, fortifying breath, she stood back up and squared her shoulders. She knew how this was supposed to work in theory, but of course had never been able to practice before. Evelayn hated to do it in front of the sentries watching from the shadows of the forest behind her. But at least she knew her clothes would return when she shifted back into her Draíolon form. At least, they always had for her mother. Hopefully there wasn’t some trick to it. If so, then these sentries would get a lot more than what they bargained for when they were assigned to guard her for the night.
Supposedly, all she had to do was picture the animal she had imprinted on—in her case, a swan—and then will herself to change form, using her conduit stone to channel additional power. It sounded so simple. But as she stood on the sandy bank, picturing a swan in her mind while staring at the swans on the lake … nothing happened.
The minutes dragged past while Evelayn tried everything she could think of to make herself shift, and though a hint of power rose through her body, that was it. She began to feel more and more foolish. Perhaps she needed to call upon the power first and then focus on changing?
“Somehow I knew I’d find you here.”
The shock of hearing her mother’s voice froze Evelayn in place momentarily. And then she spun to see the queen of éadrolan standing at the edge of the forest, her violet hair pulled back into a bun, still clad in her battle attire, dusty and visibly exhausted. But it was her.
She’d come.
And suddenly, it didn’t matter that she’d missed the ceremony and the ball and the entire day—all that mattered was that she was there. She was healthy, and whole, and she’d made it back before Evelayn’s birthday ended. She’d kept her promise.
Tears burned in Evelayn’s eyes, blurring her vision, as she picked up her skirts and bolted toward her mother.
The moment Queen Ilaria’s arms were around her, squeezing her close, a tightness Evelayn hadn’t even realized existed released from within her. She sagged into her mother’s embrace like one would sink into a feather mattress, letting her familiar scent—still there beneath the dirt and grime—wash over and through her. There was so much to say, but nothing came out except a breathless, “You’re here.”
“I told you I would be. Even if I had to move the skies above and the earth below, I wasn’t going to break my promise.” Queen Ilaria’s voice was soft and melodic, often misleading people into believing she was soft as well. But underneath her beautiful exterior and quiet voice was a ruler with steel running through her veins. She and Evelayn were the same height and had been for years, yet Evelayn still felt smaller somehow when she was with her mother. “But I am so sorry I missed everything … the ceremony and the ball. Things at the warfront—” She shook her head, letting go of Evelayn to step back and study her. “Was it wonderful?”
Evelayn shrugged. “It was … fine.” Before her mother could press her further, she continued, “But I can’t shift. I’ve been trying and it won’t happen.”
Her mother gave her a look, but let the not-so-subtle evasion go. “It’s a little bit tricky at first, but you’ll catch on quickly. I know you will. Come on, I’ll show you.”
Evelayn followed her mother down to the log near the shoreline and listened as she explained yet again how to call up the power, and how to bend it to her will—allowing her to transform. Then she demonstrated, shifting into her animal form—a sleek leopard. The predators were extremely rare, and it had only been chance that Ilaria had seen one the day of her eighth birthday. Chance, or perhaps fate. She’d told Evelayn many times about the pull she’d immediately felt to the powerful creature, and Evelayn had spent many nights dreaming of what animal she’d imprint on.
At first Evelayn had been embarrassed to admit she felt drawn to her swans—they weren’t powerful like a leopard, or fast like a hawk (which it was rumored Prince Lorcan had imprinted on for his eighth birthday). Both her parents had been alive then, and they’d reassured her that there must be a reason she’d felt drawn to the beautiful birds and to trust in herself and the forces guiding her.
Now, as Evelayn stood on the banks beside her mother’s leopard form and closed her eyes to focus, following the directions the queen had given her, she knew she had to will away her doubts. Her mother had been adamant that any hint of fear or uncertainty would keep her from being able to shift. She had to want it absolutely; she had to be completely certain and confident in her choice and her desire to change. And she did want it—so badly, her hands were fisted at her sides from the effort of concentrating.
But then one of the swans trumpeted in alarm. Evelayn opened her eyes just in time to see the entire flock open their magnificent wings and take flight, hurrying away from the lake—and the leopard sitting on the bank.