I glance down to where Lachlan stands at the foot of the stairs and give him a stiff nod.
His voice booms, “Ye may leave. Roman District!”
Ashur’s robes flap behind him as he whirls on a heel and marches from the room. I have an inkling there will be issues with his district going forward. Hopefully, it’s not anything I can’t square away with some diplomacy.
My throat burns by the end of the day, having repeated the same speech over and over. As the last district, Pella, files out of the dim throne room, with a satisfied Cynane leading her people out, I scrub a hand down my face and slump against the back of my throne. The crystal is cold, and it bites into my neck as I tilt my head up to the ceiling.
“What next?” Evander asks over the sound of people shuffling out.
“We need to have a funeral for Elowen.” My voice somehow remains steady, even though it feels as if my heart has clawed its way out of my chest and into my throat.
“I sent guards to retrieve her. They brought her to her room and bathed her in the embalming elixir to … keep her.”
I close my eyes, rubbing the bridge of my nose as I try to quell the surge of emotions that boil up.
“Thank you for doing that. I’m ashamed I hadn’t addressed it already.”How could I not think of that?The owner of that shop would’ve walked in and found her there. But worse, how could I have just left her there?
Evander looks down at his feet, shaking his head, before glancing back up at me.
“No. You’ve had a lot on your plate. I’m honored to do my part.” He clasps his hands together in front of him, almost in a prayer, before he bows at the waist.
“What kind of funeral rites do we do here?” My gaze sweeps between my friends.
Mathilda shifts on her feet as pain flits across her face, andMina bites her lip before dropping her head between her shoulders. Evander avoids my eyes altogether, and Tane shrugs his shoulders. I bypass looking at Lachlan.
“She would want a sailing,” Mathilda murmurs.
“Then let’s make the arrangements,” I snap. “Does anybody know what needs to be done?”
Mina’s shoulders tense, and I realize the callousness of not just my words, but my tone. They all lost someone, too.
“I’ll see to it,” Lachlan cuts in. My eyes are full of apologies as I glance between him and Mathilda.
“It’s okay,” Mathilda whispers. “We understand.”
The sun has set, and light no longer pours through the skylight above. The pale greenish glow of the throne seeps into the darkness, lightening its grip on the room. We’ve been at this all day, and I’m weary.
I shift forward in my seat. “Let’s call it a day and reconvene in the morning.” I should say something to them, something kind at the very least. “Thank you for your help and for supporting me and my claim to the throne.” My voice cracks with the last word, and I stand abruptly, readying to flee. But a large hand wraps around my wrist, holding me in place. Green eyes full of kindness and pride meet mine.
“We could nae ha’ done this without ye,our queen. Dinna think for one second ye ha’ to do any of this alone. We are all here—for ye.” Lachlan’s words settle around me in a comforting embrace, and I’m thankful for the dwindling light as my fire turns to ash and the first of many tears falls.
The night is often full of things I would rather not remember. Tonight is one of them. It only took a day to make the preparations for the sailings. The trek is quiet, except for the clopping of hooves against the cobblestone streets and the trudging sounds of the procession. Horse-drawn carts carry the dead, their wheels creaking against the stone as we walk unhurriedly to the bay. Fires that had raged through the streets have all been extinguished, but the air is still dense with smoke.
A somber parade, but we’re fortunate it’s not a longer one. The death toll reached sixteen.
Sixteen lives snuffed out by our enemies. Sixteen lives that I was responsible for—gone.
We were lucky that most of our citizens weren’t in the capital when the demons attacked, and the ones that were here fled into the mountains. With littletraining, and even fewer weapons, it’s a miracle they survived. Ironically, they fled to the very temples they let fall into ruin. To beg the gods they had forsaken for mercy.
Gods, they believed, had left them. Another of the wrongs I’m going to right. My boots thud heavily against the cobblestone street as exhaustion weighs me down. I blink hard, doing my best to keep my eyes on the path as I lead the procession through ruined streets.
The sight isn’t as jarring as it should be. I’m more mentally drained than I had assumed. Every time I close my eyes, there is a demon or Elowen’s last words jolting me awake. Even with Lachlan by my side, I could not find comfort. He could not either. His eyes rolled and twitched endlessly under his eyelids.
Although I did not sleep, I did find a semblance of peace while running my fingers through his hair. In feeling his body next to mine.
It’s that peace I seek now when I slip my fingers through his and he grips them firmly. My gaze roams over his face. The damage on his forehead has finally vanished. Healed completely thanks to the tonic I forced him to take last night. But shadows still haunt his eyes as they meet mine. Stubble from the past few days stretches across his jaw and chin. I ache to feel it against my skin. I miss him. Miss what we were becoming before this.
We reach the bay, the same bay I landed on to take back the throne from those monsters. It’s now the place we’ll say goodbye to the people we lost. My boots sink into the black sand as our mourning party makes its way across the beach and to the sixteen long boats that are grounded and waiting. My breathing turns jagged as I struggle through the pain the sight of the boats elicits.
