“I’m sure you can.” She turned. “But we both know there are more important things to deal with, so let’s put it in the past.” Far behind Andreus, she spotted someone duck behind a column and lowered her voice. “If there’s someone plotting against our family we have to figure it out before it’s too late. Go find Max and ask him who he’s spoken with, but take care no one sees the two of you together. Last night I spoke with one of the King’s Guard and today all of them are dead.”
Andreus looked at her as if he wanted to say something, then sighed. “It might take a while to find Max and get him alone without anyone seeing us. Once I do, I’ll let you know what I find out. You should get some rest before then. Tomorrow is going to be a long day.”
Yes. She thought of the sorrow and the uncertainty and felt the tantalizing tug of need for the drink that would make it all better. Knowing she couldn’t give in, she knew tomorrow would be very long indeed.
White was the color of purity. Black was the color of death. Purple the color of nobility. Her father and brother were draped in all three colors today to show death that they were pure of heart and leaders of their people as they walked through the gates of death’s realm. Carys wore the deepest of purple as she stood next to her brother, also draped in the dark hue. Chief Elder Cestrum stood at the front of the chapel with Imogen. Both were dressed in white as they prepared to oversee the final ceremony of Carys’s father’s and brother’s lives.
Which could only happen when her mother arrived.
Carys could hear the rustling of fabrics and the not-so-discreet murmurs of speculation of the court and visiting lords behind them. Their mother had not shown up to greet the Lords of the Seven Districts who had arrived throughout the night and this morning. And the farewell service for the King and Prince was supposed to have started a long time ago.
“One of us should have gone with Elder Jacobs to get Mother,” she whispered to Andreus. Standing in the chapel now, it was hard to get the Councilman’s words from the other night out of her head. He’d warned her about the dangers of the North Tower. The next day the five King’s Guardsmen were dead.
“We were trying to make it less obvious that she wasn’t here.” Andreus had spent the morning once again trying to track down Max, who had gone into hiding after their discussion last night.
The boy claimed he never once said anything about Andreus or what he knew about the wind-powered lights. The way the boy answered the question and dashed off to help in the kitchens made her brother think the boy had bragged to someone and was worried about getting expelled from the castle.
In the meanwhile, an uproar was slowly growing behind them. The time was getting late. There was a long ride to the tomb ahead of them. Any later and darkness would be descending when they returned.
“Elder Ulrich and Lord Marksham have sent several pages to remind Mother of the time. Just breathe. We have no choice but to stay here and wait. This will all be over soon,” Dreus said, taking Carys’s cold hand in his warm one. “You’ll see.”
“Queen Betrice!” someone announced.
Carys let out a sigh of relief as she and Andreus turned. Everything inside Carys stilled as people dropped into bows and curtsies while their queen walked down the aisle in a billowing yellow dress. Her brown hair flowed loose around her shoulders. That and the smile tugging at her mouth gave her almost a girlish look—so different than the severe style she had often encouraged Carys to emulate.
“Looking serious is the only way people will treat you seriously.”
Perhaps now that she reigned, Mother no longer felt like she needed to look a certain way?
Mother didn’t say a word as she took her place next to Andreus, directly in front of the white stone dais where King Ulron lay with his arms crossed over his chest.
Elder Cestrum waited for the Queen to instruct him to begin. When she didn’t, Lady Imogen stepped toward the Queen and quietly asked, “Your Majesty, would you like us to start?”
“Of course.” Mother smiled. “Let the festivities begin.”
Festivities?
Carys didn’t have time to think about her mother’s behavior as Imogen turned and walked to seven candles standing on gold pillars behind the bodies of Micah and her father.
Imogen stood behind the first of them and lit it as Elder Cestrum intoned, “Humility.”
Imogen moved on to the next, looking strong and confident as she always did when performing her duties. So different than the way she presented herself when she wasn’t acting as seer.
“Strength.”
Then another—each virtue announced for each candle lit. Patience. Chastity. Temperance. Charity. Endurance.
Carys watched the candles flicker as the Chief Elder spoke of the crown’s defense of the virtues and the power of the light to keep the kingdom safe. It was easier to watch the shifting of the flames than look at the faces of her brother or father. But soon the words were over and the seer and Chief Elder stood on either side of her brother. They took the edges of a cloth decorated with the symbols of the virtues and pulled it up to cover Micah’s body.
Andreus took Carys’s hand in his and she clung to it like the lifeline that it was. The pressure behind her eyes and in her chest swelled against the barrier the Tears of Midnight had erected as the cloth shifted over her brother’s face.
The seer and elder then walked to the center of the chapel and repeated the process with the King. This time Carys forced herself to look at his face for as long as she could. To remember. And as the cloth settled over it, she vowed she wouldn’t let those behind his death escape justice.
The rest of the Council appeared. In the candlelight, they lifted both covered bodies into wooden caskets and carried them from the chapel. Carys followed her mother and brother down the aisle after them and through the castle and down the steps to the city below, where they would then ride to escort the King and Prince to their final resting place.
The gongs rang again as they walked down the stairs to where their horses waited. Andreus had to help their mother mount her horse. In the blue cloak Oben had convinced her to wear, the Queen waved to the people solemnly lining the streets while the procession made its way to the main gates and then turned toward the mountains.
As she rode around the plateau toward the peaks beyond the plains Carys glanced behind her. The line of horses stretched for at least a mile. One broad face framed by red hair turned, caught her attention, and held it. Even from a distance she could make out the exact hazel color of his eyes, the wide crooked nose, and the mocking smile she’d found so fascinating when he and Micah sparred on the guards’ practice fields.
Until a year ago, Lord Garret had been Micah’s best friend. Then one day Carys woke up and heard he’d gone. Garret’s uncle, Elder Cestrum, would only say that Garret had returned to help his father oversee the District of Bisog, and Micah refused to discuss the real reason no matter how artfully she asked. No one, not even Chief Elder Cestrum, had spoken Garret’s name since.