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And now, Queen Asteria was dead.
We stepped out, and the storm was still raging. As far as we could see, the landscape was dotted with fires, raging in brilliant oranges and pinks and crimsons. Magical fire. Was this the Scorching Wars, all over again?
There were no buildings standing, save for the one we’d come out of, and that was only by the fact that it was hidden behind an illusionary barrier. But, as Camille and I looked around, the devastation began to sink in. The palace was in rubble. The outer buildings were so much wreckage, splintered beyond any hope of recognizing what they had been only hours before.
“We have to find your sister and friends, and the Queen.” Trenyth glanced at the sky. The churning clouds seemed to be thinning, but now they were streaking smaller bolts of lightning down to set off the tallest trees.
“Trenyth—stop!” I grabbed his arm. “Queen Asteria is dead. While I was asleep, I was summoned to Haseofon. I was . . . I had to . . .” I stopped, staring at him bleakly and, after a moment’s hesitation, blurted out. “I was assigned to escort her through the veil, in an honored manner, to her ancestors.”
He stared at me for a moment. Then, without a word, without showing a clue how he felt, he turned back to the palace. “We must focus on finding your sister and we absolutely have to find Sharah, if she’s alive. She’s the Queen’s niece. Technically, she’s an heir to the throne and who knows how many of them are alive? There were only two or three others in line before Sharah. And with the devastation this storm has wrought . . .” He trailed off.
But the thought was enough to send me into a tailspin. Sharah had mentioned this. She could end up being the next queen of Elqaneve. And what would that mean for her and Chase and their baby? If they still live, the voice of fear inside me said. If they made it out. And what about my love, Shade? While I had little doubt he could survive, there was also Trillian. So many factors. So many chances for death.>And then, without a word, without a protest, she reached up and pulled the veil back from her face.
The plants, the trees, the animals of the forest gave a collective gasp. The air fluttered as the lament grew stronger. And I stared into the face that I had come to know too well.
“Your Majesty . . .” I started to kneel but could not.
Greta’s words from a recent training session echoed in my memory. A Death Maiden supersedes royalty . . . supersedes all nobility and title. To us, all are equal, all come before us as they were born—without title, without class, without rank. All who come before us are here to die. Whether they die in obliteration, or are taken to the halls of the revered depends entirely on how they lived their life. Remember this. We only kneel to the Harvestmen, and to the Hags of Fate.
Queen Asteria faced me, a serene look on her face. She stood here, on the cornerstone of death, as she had lived in life: dignified, in her power, and accepting what could not be changed.
I stepped up to her. She was so very old, ancient beyond her days, and I could not imagine what she had seen in her life. Tonight, I would find out. Even though I was to escort her to her glory, I still had to break the soul-connection she had with life.
“Delilah, you do me a great service.” Her voice was steady. “I hoped, if this were to be the time, that I would be worthy of this honor.”
“Your Majesty—” What the hell could I say? I fumbled for words, my heart breaking. I didn’t want to do this, but there was no choice, there was no quarter to which I could retreat.
She tipped her head, in a fashion I had seen her do a dozen times over, and shook her head. “It has all been said. I understand. Please, though . . . look after my niece for me? She has a long road ahead of her, with what waits in her path.”
Again, I started to say something, but there were no words. “I promise.”
Sucking in a deep breath, I stepped forward, holding out my hands. She took them, her wizened face suddenly looking tired, and I could feel how very much she needed to rest. I clasped her fingers gently, feeling the slow pulse of her life ebb and flow. She was hurt, that much I could tell, and in pain.
I leaned in to place my lips against hers, and the kiss became a blur as our auras merged. I gazed into her eyes as I kissed her, the hands of the clock sweeping backward, first slowly, then at a great pace. The moon rose, and set, and then the sun—racing widdershins across the sky—and the moon again, until a blur of days and nights became a streak of time against the void.
Flash . . . a glimpse of Trenyth, and my heart rises, filled with love and longing and the knowledge that I can never have him. The desire to throw my crown away and run off into the wilds with my advisor almost wins out, but there is always duty, always honor, and it weighs heavily on my heart.
Flash . . . a glimpse of the night sky, and a longing to let go and be free. Daily duties grind the day into dust, and the years into ashes, and there exists only the slow march of time with no break, no reprieve.
Flash . . . The Scorching Wars are over, and Telazhar stands before the tribunal. I am the only member pleading for his death. The others relent and sentence him to the Sub-Realms. But I know, deep inside, that he needs to die. He looks at me directly—I was the only one speaking for his death—and he winks. A goose walks over my grave then . . .
Flash . . . and I am standing by a lake. The world is fresh and young, and I wonder, did we make the right choices in calving off Earthside? In leaving everything we ever knew behind? But there were so many dangers, and surely now, they were forever put to rest. The demons are safely locked away, and the portals are barred. And we have a world to explore . . .
Flash . . . I stare into the mirror. The heavy coronation dress—a glimmer of sparkle and light, of spidersilk and flower blossoms, trails behind me. I am not ready for this. I am not secure in my abilities. How can I ever fill the shoes of my mother, Queen Lia, who was recently killed by assassins?
Tears form in my eyes, but my cousin, Lent, shakes his head. “You must never show fear, never show doubt. After today, you hold the keys to the kingdom in your hand. You must learn to sweep your emotion under the rug and pretend it doesn’t exist. For you will be the living Court of the Elfin Kingdom. You are the throne. You are no longer a person, but an icon. You owe this to your mother.”
And I hear his words and obey. I know no other way. This was what I was born to do. This was what I must do. And so . . . I put aside my sorrow, and I tip my lips into a smile. I’m beautiful, and I’m brilliant. And I swear to my mother that I will become the shining star of the Elfin world, and never let my people slide into despair . . .
As I pulled back, I looked into Asteria’s eyes once more. And there, I could see her life laid out, road lines on the map of her face. She smiled, then, and reached up to remove her crown.
“Heavy is the head . . .” She softly dropped it to the bronze dais, and shook out her hair. “Shall we go then? I am ready. Let us take this life of mine and emblazon it on the pages of history.”
Still holding tight to her hands, I let out a slow breath and smiled. She was ready, and as much as I dreaded the next moment, I turned and walked her to the center of the dais. Where she was going, I could not follow—I was still alive, and the guardians of the Silver Falls would not allow me in. She stood in the center and began to let go of my hands. I caught my breath in my chest, not wanting to let go, wanting to hold on to her, to keep her here.
“You have to let go, Delilah. You have a life to live. There will be great challenges ahead. You must not let Shadow Wing and Telazhar win, and now—the seals . . . they are running free. You have to let me walk into the past, while you move forward.”
Crying in earnest, I felt her fingers slip away from mine. She began to fade, shimmering in a crystalline light that sparkled around her shoulders and head. It was so bright, it almost blinded me, but still I watched, unwilling to turn away, unwilling to let her go without proper witness.
