He pulled away first this time. Before she could say anything else, he glanced up at the sky. “We should get back. They’ll never let me run with you again if we’re late for the meeting.”
Evelayn sighed. “Are you certain we can’t just stay here the rest of the day? I rather prefer this kind of meeting.”
Tanvir laughed softly.
“No, I know, don’t say it. You’re right. Let’s go.” Evelayn gestured for him to lead this time. She followed Tanvir back to the castle, her lips still burning with the memory of his kiss.
THE GARDENS WERE STILL DAMP, THE JEWEL-COLORED flowers dappled with drops of dew and their perfume heavy on the humid air as Ceren ambled down the path. Beside her, Quinlen was quieter than usual. They’d been meeting to go for walks in the morning for the past few days. She wasn’t fool enough to go dashing through the forest at breakneck speeds like Evelayn. She much preferred walking—and speaking—to her companions.
“I waited for Evelayn last night as long as possible,” Ceren had told him when he’d asked how the young queen was after a good night’s rest. “But she never came up to her room, and my mother is getting irritated with me being out so late with her. I had to retire to my quarters. I’m not sure where she was.”
“I’ll ask around quietly. I hope she was able to get the sleep she needed,” Quinlen had responded.
“She must have, if she got up to run this morning.”
He’d nodded, but they’d fallen silent and hadn’t spoken again since.
“Is it very difficult?” Ceren finally asked, when they’d begun their second loop of the gardens, unable to stand the silence any longer.
“What?”
“Being here? Instead of at the warfront. Or do you prefer the peace of the castle to the fighting?”
Quinlen was quiet for a long moment, contemplating. He had a habit of thinking over his answers, responding thoughtfully—carefully. He was so different from Ceren, but she was fascinated by it … by him, if she was truly honest with herself. She’d never known someone who was so methodical and calm.
“I much prefer peace, although I do sometimes feel less … useful here than I did on the warfront. And there’s no comfort in knowing that the peace here is not permanent—that I must soon prepare myself to face the battlefield once more.”
Ceren nodded. “I think I understand what you mean.” The stones were slippery from the mist and rain, and as her attention was fixated on him, Ceren didn’t notice the uneven edge until it was too late. She tripped, twisting her ankle just enough to send her careening forward.
Quinlen grabbed her elbow and yanked her back; she crashed into his chest, his arms going around her to steady her, so she didn’t tumble to the ground.
Ceren’s face burned hot as she regained her balance. Quinlen released her, except for one hand still on her elbow when she stepped back.
“Well, that was nicely done.” She tried to laugh off her humiliation.
“Perhaps it would help if you take my arm?” He let go of her to offer his elbow, and she gratefully tucked her hand into it.
“Well, maybe it was nicely done, after all.” This time her laugh was genuine, and Quinlen joined her.
“You didn’t have to go to such drastic measures to get me to offer you my arm.”
“I’ll bear that in mind next time.” Ceren shook her head at herself and was about to ask him if he planned on attending any of the meals in the dining hall that day, when Evelayn and Tanvir burst out of the trees across the courtyard from them, sprinting to the castle.
Quinlen and Ceren stopped short, watching them dart across the lawn. They were both so intent on their goal, neither noticed the couple in the garden watching them race past.
“Well, she seems to be in better spirits,” Quinlen commented.
“Yes, she does,” Ceren agreed, watching Evelayn with narrowed eyes. She looked better than she had in … well, since before her mother’s death. There was color in her cheeks, her eyes were bright, and she’d been smiling.
“Do you wish to continue on, or head in to break our fast?”
Ceren forced herself to turn back to Quinlen. “Let’s walk a little bit more. Then we can go in. I’m not sure I want to face my mother just yet.”
He laughed with her again as they resumed their walk, but Ceren couldn’t get the look on Evelayn’s face as she’d run by out of her mind. If she didn’t know better, Ceren would have thought she looked … happy.
She didn’t care how mad it made her mother, tonight she was waiting until Evelayn showed up.
“Absolutely not! It’s out of the question.”
General Olena’s outburst wasn’t unexpected, and she wasn’t the only one who had reacted badly to Tanvir’s idea—even though Evelayn was the one to present it.
“Your plan is to petition Máthair Damhán? It would be a suicide mission. We only have one Royal left. If we agree to try this plan, there is no way the queen will be the one to go,” Lord Teslar agreed.
High Priestess Teca shot a pointed look at Evelayn.
“The queen is sitting right here, and she is perfectly capable of hearing you,” Evelayn bit out, her patience growing thin. “Listen, all of you.” She raised her voice to a near shout over her council, until they fell silent and turned to her. “I know that it would be incredibly dangerous. But I am the only one who can do it. A queen or king is the only one with enough power to pose a threat to her—I’m the only one who could hope to walk into her lair and not be killed immediately.”
“No, not immediately. Perhaps she’d let you think you’d survive,” General Olena griped.
Evelayn was getting very irritated with the woman her mother had placed in charge of the armies when she’d forced Kel to stay at the castle. She took a deep breath to calm her rising temper. “What possible purpose could she have for killing me? If she did, there would be no successor to the Light Throne, and the power would be uneven indefinitely. Surely an Ancient knows and understands the need for balance.”
General Kelwyn spoke up next. “This bears more thought and careful consideration. I, too, am deeply concerned at the prospect of sending our queen to do this. But if she succeeded … the silk from Máthair Damhán would be the perfect trap. If we used it correctly, Bain wouldn’t be able to scent or see it. If we could somehow ensnare him using the silk, Queen Evelayn would have the opportunity she needed.”
“I just need to bring her something worth bargaining for—something she’d want desperately,” Evelayn supplied.
“What could an Ancient possibly need from us?” Lord Teslar piped up again.
“I don’t know—yet,” Evelayn added quickly. “But we’ll figure something out. The priestesses at the Dawn Temple can search all the texts they have on the Ancients to see if they can discover something useful.”
“And you plan on getting to her … how?” General Olena pressed. “Her lair is on the northern side of the Sliabán Mountains. In Dorjhalon.”
Lord Tanvir spoke up for the first time. “We’d have to sneak into Dorjhalon and travel to her lair.”
“Oh, is that all? Just sneak into Dorjhalon?” Lord Teslar scoffed simultaneously to General Olena bursting out, “We? Does that mean you intend to accompany her on this ill-fated mission?”
Evelayn held up her hand to prevent General Olena from saying anything else. “Nothing has been decided yet, including who would accompany me if I went. I want you all to think on this today and we will reconvene tomorrow morning to discuss it further. But give it an objective, thoughtful analysis. We have to destroy Bain somehow to restore peace. We all know that in a fight he would kill me. He’s too experienced, too powerful. My only hope is setting our own trap for him, something that gives me the upper hand. I can harness the power of the sun and call it down to consume him—but I need him to be immobilized first, at least momentarily. This is the only solution any of us has come up with that could work. There is nothing lighter or stronger than Máthair Damhán’s silk. If
I somehow got Bain to chase me right into it, he would be trapped for at least a few moments before he could free himself. That’s all I need.”
Evelayn made herself sound much more confident than she felt. She didn’t dare look at High Priestess Teca, who could have called her bluff. It had taken her longer than a few moments to harness and call down the beam of sunlight that had taken her mother away. But she could practice. She had a little time … she hoped.
“Until tomorrow then?” She rose before anyone else could voice any other negative opinions, and everyone grudgingly followed suit. Evelayn’s gaze strayed to Tanvir, who nodded encouragingly at her, even though she knew he didn’t want her to go any more than anyone else in that room did. But her duty was to do everything in her power to protect her people—and for the first time, she at least had hope of succeeding. And if she failed, well, it wouldn’t be any worse than not having tried. Bain would get to her eventually, and as she’d admitted, she had no hope of surviving a direct confrontation with him.
She could do this. She had to do this.
There was no other option.
THE SUN HAD LONG SINCE BURNED OFF THE MIST AND fog of the morning, and the air had turned humid and hot as Evelayn made her way through the forest to the grove where her father was buried and the ring of stones stood in memory of her mother. Her ever-present sentries kept a respectful distance, allowing her to enter the clearing alone.
Every monarch picked where they wanted their final resting place to be; her parents had picked this grove because it was where they’d met and where her father had eventually asked Ilaria to be Bound to him. As Evelayn silently moved toward the stones, she tried to imagine them when they were young and falling in love.
She knelt down at the head of the ring of stones where her mother’s body had been laid out—the same place where she’d stood to call down the power of the sun.
Did you mean what you said that day—if that was truly you? she asked in her mind, not even daring to whisper in case the sentries had better hearing than most. You said I was born to do what you couldn’t, to bring peace to Lachalonia. But I don’t know if I can do this. I’m scared, Mama.
Evelayn tilted her head up to the sunshine that washed over her from above, trying to convince herself that the warmth and comfort it gave her was her mother’s way of holding her close from where she was, high above her daughter in the Final Light.
Please help me. Help me protect our people. Help me succeed.
Evelayn knelt there silently for a long time, letting the sunshine press her in its golden embrace, but when the tears felt perilously close to rising to the surface, she finally stood and turned away, back toward the forest, her sentries, and the castle.
She still had no answers, but she felt a little bit better. At the very least, seeing the still-blackened stones had been a reminder that she was capable of calling down the sun.
Evelayn slowly meandered toward the castle, in no hurry to rush back to the concerns and scrutiny of her court. Perhaps she could quickly go visit the swans. She hadn’t been to her lake since the night of her birthday, nor had she tried to shift, with all else that she’d had to deal with.
Evelayn changed course, heading to the lake, and was nearly there when she heard someone approaching from behind. Nerves ever on edge, she whirled, only to see Ceren walking toward her.
“Thank the Light, it’s you.”
“Who did you expect?” Ceren laughed as she got closer. “Certainly not Tanvir, based on the petrified look on your face. Pretty sure that’s not the response he would elicit.”
“I was not petrified. And regardless, I’m not sure I know what you mean,” Evelayn hedged, hurrying toward her swans and away from Ceren’s knowing grin.
“I’m not sure I do either, since I haven’t had a chance to ask you what happened in the forest this morning with a certain handsome lord who is so besotted with you, he continues to be willing to torture himself by chasing you at all hours of the day and night.”
“Nothing happened.” Evelayn sat down heavily on her log, not even sure why she was trying to hide the kiss from Ceren. Perhaps because it was still so new and she hadn’t even had time to process it herself yet?
“You know I can scent your guilt, right? Tell me the truth.” Ceren sat down next to her.
“I liked it better when we were younglings. At least then you couldn’t smell when I lied to you.”
“Is lying to me such a common problem?”
Evelayn laughed in spite of herself. “No. But it’s rather inconvenient currently.”
They were quiet for a moment and then Ceren said, “You don’t have to tell me, if you don’t want to. I honestly didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.”
“You didn’t! It’s not that.” Evelayn shifted on the log, watching the flock of swans glide through the center of the lake, surprisingly not frightened of all the noise they were making. She kept her eyes on the birds as she admitted, “He kissed me.”
Ceren squealed and the swans shuffled their wings nervously. “I knew it had to be something good! I’ve never seen you glowing like that before.”
“Glowing like what? When?” Evelayn finally turned to Ceren.
“I saw you two running back to the castle. You were so wrapped up in each other, you didn’t even notice me and Quinlen in the gardens. Or anyone else, for that matter.”
Evelayn groaned. “Well, that’s lovely. So everyone knows?”
“Goodness no. I’m the only one who knows you well enough to have noticed exactly how happy you were. I’m sure everyone else thought it was merely from getting out to run again,” Ceren assured her. “Even Quinlen only commented that you seemed to be in better spirits.”
“Which brings up the question—why were you in the gardens with Quinlen?” Evelayn deflected the focus of the conversation.
“Oh, we just walk together in the mornings sometimes. Nothing exciting like you.”
“But you do care for him. I can tell.” Evelayn pressed Ceren with a smile.
Ceren shrugged but she couldn’t keep from smiling, too. “Well, yes. I do. But I’m not sure if he’s actually interested or only looking for easy companionship. Or perhaps he thinks I’m a way to you.”
“I guarantee that’s not it at all. He’s never even tried to speak to me, other than brief formalities. He’s interested in you. And I promise to watch for you next time, so I can see for myself.”
“I appreciate that,” Ceren reached out and patted Evelayn’s hand, “but you’re not getting out of telling me exactly what happened this morning. You don’t have to be the queen when you’re with me, you know. You can just be a young Draíolon who’s falling in love and needs to talk to her closest friend about it.”
“Who said anything about love? I never said that,” Evelayn protested. But of course as soon as Ceren brought it up, it was all she could think about. Was that what she felt for Tanvir?
“I know you, Ev. You won’t even let a male Draíolon kiss your hand unless you truly care for him, let alone anywhere on your face.”
Evelayn was quiet. It was true, she guarded herself against everyone, especially any male who showed interest in her. But with Tanvir, it was different. She wanted him to touch her, she wanted to be close to him. She wanted to talk to him, and see him, and kiss him. But she didn’t dare call it love—not yet. Maybe not ever. Love meant forever. It meant Binding herself to someone—if she was lucky and if he loved her back. Love was what her parents had shared.
Ceren watched her, waiting patiently for her to gather her thoughts.
“I’m not really sure why I feel differently with him … but I do.” Evelayn couldn’t look at her friend as she haltingly began to tell her some of what had happened that morning. Not even Ceren needed to know every detail.
She’d just reached the point when they kissed the second time, when her sharp hearing caught the soft footfalls of someone hurrying toward them.
“Your Majesty.” A messenge
r burst through the trees just as Evelayn stood and turned to face whoever was coming. “A note arrived for you. At the castle.”
Evelayn’s pulse skipped a beat.
“General Kelwyn told me to fetch you, that it was urgent.”
Evelayn glanced apologetically at Ceren, who still sat on the log.
“Go,” Ceren said with a rueful smile. “Now you must return to being the queen.”
“We’ll talk more later?” Evelayn asked and Ceren nodded.
She could only think of one message that would be so urgent—it had to be from Caedmon.
LORCAN’S MOTHER HAD JUST LEFT THE ROOM A COUPLE of minutes earlier when there was another knock. The door opened, without waiting for his approval, to reveal Lothar in her stead.
Lorcan resumed polishing the sword he’d been working on, not acknowledging his brother. They hadn’t spoken much since their father’s plan had proven successful and he’d killed Queen Ilaria.
Well, the first part of his plan, rather. Nothing had gone right after that, and they’d all suffered the brunt of the king’s wrath since.
Just a little bit longer, he reminded himself.
The door shut with a dull click, and Lothar moved to sit down in the chair across from him. All Lorcan’s weapons were laid out on the table. He didn’t need them in a fight very often—if ever—but for some reason it had always been calming to him to hold real steel in his hands, to sharpen the blades, to polish them until they gleamed. The solid weight and the repetitive motions helped clear his mind.
“You could tell me,” Lothar finally spoke, but Lorcan continued to ignore him. “You could try actually trusting me.”
Lorcan set down the sword and picked up a dagger—one of a matched pair—and began to work on it. There was nothing to say to his brother. A part of him hated what all this was doing to them, but it didn’t matter. Everything had already been set into motion and soon, soon, it would finally be done.
“Look at me!” Lothar suddenly bellowed, slamming his fist on the table. Lorcan flinched at the unexpected outburst but kept his eyes trained on the dagger. The edge was sharp enough to slice through flesh with the barest amount of pressure. If he wasn’t careful, he could cut his finger off.
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