These were the things that mattered. These were the things I had built my entire existence around. Even so, my gaze found Ilayta again, guilt squeezing my heart.
"Who is she?" Willa asked quietly.
I should have known she'd notice. Willa missed nothing. "Her name is Ilayta."
"She seems to be grieving harder than anyone else here." It wasn't a question. Willa's tone was gentle, inviting rather than prying.
I adjusted Titus as he grabbed a handful of my hair, tugging with innocent strength. "She was Chavon's true mate."
Willa's sharp intake of breath was soft, but I heard it. She turned to face me fully. "His true mate? But you and he—"
"Were bound by formal custom. A political marriage." The words came easier than I expected, perhaps because Willa had never treated me as just the Prime. From the moment Charick brought her into our lives, she'd seen me as a person first. "He was my friend. We had children together, built a life together. But I never loved him as a true mate, and he never loved me that way either. Our hearts did not beat in sync."
"Oh, Serna." Willa's hand found my arm, squeezing gently. "That's why you've been standing here looking like your heart is breaking. Not just because you lost him, but because—"
"Because I'm watching the woman who should have been his mate mourn what they could never have." I looked down at Titus, who had abandoned my hair in favor of trying to grab my earring. "Because I was the reason they couldn't be together. My position, my duty—it took that choice away from both of them."
"That's not fair to yourself," Willa said firmly. "You didn't choose to be Prime. You earned it, yes, but you didn't ask for all the sacrifices that came with it."
"Didn't I?" I met her eyes. "I competed in the trials. I fought for this position. And in doing so, I condemned Chavon to a life without his true mate."
Titus made a sound of protest, and I realized I'd been holding him too tightly. I loosened my grip, bouncing him gently until he settled.
Willa was quiet for a moment, then said, "Charick has never once spoken of you with anything but love and pride. Neither has Kavek. They know what you've sacrificed, Serna. They see it. And they're grateful—not for the sacrifice itself, but for the strength it took to make it."
My throat tightened. "I lost one son to that strength."
"I know." Willa's voice was soft. "Charick told me about his brother."
Of course he had. They were true mates; they shared everything. I envied them that, even as I was grateful my son had found what I never could.
"Does it ever stop hurting?" I asked, the question escaping before I could stop it. "Watching others have what you can't?"
Willa's smile was sad but understanding. "I don't know. But I do know that you're not alone in carrying that pain. And you don't have to pretend it doesn't exist, at least not with me."
Titus chose that moment to grab both our faces, pulling us together with a delighted giggle. "Nana! Mama!"
Despite everything, I laughed. It was a small sound, rusty from disuse, but genuine. Willa laughed too, and for a moment, the weight lifted just enough to breathe.
"Thank you," I said quietly, meeting Willa's eyes over Titus's head.
"You're family," Willa said simply. "And family means you get to be human—or Vaktaire—sometimes. You get to hurt, and grieve, and wonder what might have been." She paused, then added with a slight smile, "Though I have to say, watching you with Titus, I think you're capable of more love than you give yourself credit for."
I looked down at my grandyoungling, who had settled against my chest, his small hand curled in the fabric of my robe. "He makes it easy."
"So does Charick. So does Kavek. So do all the people who love you, Serna." Willa's hand squeezed my arm again. "Maybe someday you'll let yourself believe you deserve that love. Not because you're the Prime, but because you're you."
I wanted to argue, to deflect, to retreat behind the mask I wore so well. But standing here on the banks of the Valasyne, with my grandyoungling in my arms and my daughter-in-law beside me, I found I didn't have the strength for it.
"Maybe," I whispered, and let myself hope, just for a moment, that she might be right.
The funeral ended as the last embers of Chavon's boat drifted downstream, swallowed by the gathering darkness. I handed Titus back to Willa with a kiss to his forehead, then made my way through the dispersing crowd, accepting condolences and offering comfort as I moved toward my chambers in the ancestral home. The corridors were dimly lit, the stone walls cool beneath my fingertips as I steadied myself. My head throbbed from holding my emotions at bay, from keeping my face a mask of stone when everything inside me wanted to fracture. I made it look easy—the Prime, composed and unbreakable—but it wasn't. It never was.
I turned a corner and nearly collided with him.
Cullen.
He caught my arms to steady me, his hands warm even through the fabric of my ceremonial robes. "Serna."
