“They’re coming, the High King and Queen, they are here, for the late king’s funeral.”
Lorenzo’s face turned a deep red, his face pinched for a moment before slipping back into his mourners’ mask.
I stifled a laugh. He didn’t think Luka would come to his grandfather’s funeral, did he?
“As much as I’d love to see how this plays out, I think this is the perfect distraction, let’s get out of here.” I pulled Nico backward and slipped back into the crowd.
28
LENNOX
I wish I could have captured and framed the look on Lorenzo’s face when Luka and I arrived at the ceremony. I was delighted to see how much our presence pissed him off.
The rest of the court appeared happy to see us. The somber air lightened slightly as Luka and I came into view. The people were happy to see Luka had come for Arlo’s funeral, their relief was evident. You could hear it in their hushed whispers.
He’s back.
Luka came back.
I’m so glad he could make it.
Everything was going according to plan.
Lorenzo and Adreona didn’t wait for us before continuing into the temple. The shock of seeing the two of them together, arm in arm, had yet to wear off.
I should have known it ran deeper between them than a simple alliance. It made me question who instigated Arlo’s death. Lorenzo wanted the crown—always had. But who’s idea was it really? Who’s idea was it to murder Arlo—Adreona or Lorenzo?
Luka and I dismounted ourhorses, handing them off to one of the guards outside the temple, the female gave us a soft smile before disappearing with our steeds.
I looped my arm through Luka’s as we made our way toward the entrance of the temple, following behind the rest of the mourners.
Luka paused when we reached the threshold, his body going tense, his eyes wide as he stared at the wall filled with stained glass at the front of the temple.
“You can do this,” I whispered. “I’m right here.” I gave his forearm a squeeze.
He took a deep breath through his nose, his gaze still fixed on the other end of the temple as his feet began walking again.
The murmurs that started outside continued as we made our way to the front of the temple, taking a seat in the front row next to Adreona and Lorenzo.
I held Luka’s hand throughout the ceremony. I tried my best to listen, but my mind kept wandering.
What was Adreona getting out of being with Lorenzo? Did she think she’d be queen?
Which one of them had killed Arlo?
Were our friends finding any useful information?
What was going on in Luka’s head? Was his mind spinning like mine or was he too focused on how he was back in this temple again, mourning yet another family member’s death?
“At this time, we ask if any of the family would like to say anything about our beloved late king.” The priestess looked at the front row, where we all sat. She was dressed in all white—standing out in the masses of black.
Lorenzo covered his face and shook his head, appearing as if he was too distressed even to speak of his father.
If anyone dared to look closer, they’d see how terrible of an actor he was.
Luka squeezed my hand; we shared a look before he stood and approached the dais.
Lorenzo peeked out from under his hand, his eyes blazing with ire as he watched Luka ascend the steps. When he caught me watching, he schooled his expression back to that of a grief-stricken son, wiping at fake tears with the back of his arm.
