Once her guards saw the wagon and what it carried, the anger on their faces melted into unrelenting pity. The two soldiers intercepted the prince and carried him to his chambers.
Because of Helaina, her parents didn’t have to find their eldest son in an unsavory beer parlor. Because of her, he was discovered in his home.
That scene, how she found him, Helaina would carry that weight alone. Her parents had been through enough.
A knock at the door stole her attention, bringing her thoughts back to the present.
Men in familiar maroon cloaks and iron armor stepped inside.
“The queen wants you to join her for breakfast,” Cedric said, offering her a somber look that his partner, Teirn, seemed to replicate. The two of them did that so often now, treating her like she might wilt and die if they looked at her the wrong way.
Helaina hated that.
She stretched her arms above her head and forced a cheerful tone into her words. “Well, let’s not keep her waiting.”
“Laina, put that book down and eat something. You’re skin and bones,” Queen Jayda chided from across the dining table. “It’s not very attractive.”
Helaina’s head snapped up. The queen’s face lacked any concern. She was simply scrutinizing her daughter’s appearance—again.
“Your hovering is beginning rather early today, isn’t it?” Helaina’s eyes narrowed, finding her mother’s judgmental ones. When the queen said nothing, Helaina returned her attention to her reading.
Since Adriel’s death, what was left of her family had completely disintegrated. The remaining royal family had divided, falling into their individual miseries.
For an unexpected death, seven days would be nothing, barely any time to grieve a loss. Yet this tragedy was one Helaina was all too prepared for. She had mourned Adriel for two years. Ever since all the good parts of him died the night they buried their sister. He had tried to drown out his guilt, blaming himself for losing Krysta. She knew because the same guilt gutted her each and every day. Helaina had tried tirelessly to bring him back from his grief.
She had failed. Failed him—failed them both.
Now Adriel, too, was gone. Queen Jayda had become a hollow shell, only speaking to Helaina when she had a cruel comment. Helaina was convinced she invited her one remaining child to these meals just to assess her, to ensure she wasn’t at risk of losing a third.
That thought made Helaina regret lashing out moments ago.
“I... I’m sorry,” she backtracked out of guilt.
The queen’s scrutinizing gaze turned grief-stricken.
“Hm.” It was the only reply Jayda offered as she tapped her long nails on the polished wood.
At least the queen continued to acknowledge her, in a vapid sort of way. King Oren didn’t speak to her at all anymore. The only hint he was still alive was the occasional clash of things being thrown in his chambers, followed by the scurrying feet of servants to clean up his mess. No one’s grief held a candle to that of the king. He hadn’t even attended the intimate burial. Only Helaina and her mother watched as the priest recited the ceremonial words.
Oh Nedos, God of Life and Light, may you guide our lost son of Ures home.
Bring this child to his eternal resting place.
Safely guide his mortal soul to the ether, where he may find peace.
In his name we pray.
Both women tossed a handful of soil atop Adriel’s decorated wooden casket.
That was it. There were no tributes, no extravagant speeches or public announcements. Just a few words from an elderly holy man and a plot in the family burial ground.
Helaina hoped her ancestral god, Ures, was there to guide him that day. That their God of Iron and War took pity on her brother and what he had endured. She prayed Adriel would be granted his place in the ether, where his mind could be clear again, and Krysta would be there, waiting for him.
Helaina examined Queen Jayda’s slender face, which dipped into a perfectly pointed V, her blond hair pulled into a flawless braid like always. She still looked so graceful despite her many sorrows.
“I’ll eat a little later.” Helaina tried to salvage the conversation. “I promise.”
It was a pitiful lie.
