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I take a deep breath and prepare myself to face the music. Can’t hide forever, as they say. “Thank you for theiriski,” I say, before walking out of my hiding spot.
I reluctantly make my way toward the small group of Theron relations gathered around the casket holding my mother. It’s a closed casket, but that hasn’t stopped people from approaching for their final regards.
“Darling!” Aunt Monica says, spotting me first as I walk up to them. She grabs me and pulls me into her soft, expansive body. “Darling, we had no idea the cancer had progressed so far.”
I nod, hating the lie I forced myself to tell. “It was very sudden.”
“Where’s Celine?” Uncle Peter asks. “And your father?”
And there it is—the question I’ve been dreading since I picked the damn flowers. Which, now that I see them here in the chapel, are entirely too yellow.
“Celine’s with Archie.”
I startle when I feel a warm hand press to my side. Ilarion steps into our loose circle as though he belongs there. As though he’salwaysbelonged there. My aunt and uncle look at him with wide eyes laced with shock.
I can’t exactly blame them. The man has a way of eating up the atmosphere in a room. It gets harder to breathe, harder to move, harder to do anything but gawk.
“Sorry to interrupt. We haven’t met yet,” Ilarion says, taking my aunt’s hand first, then my uncle’s. “I’m Ilarion, Celine’s fiancé.”
“Oh!” Aunt Monica breathes, her eyes trailing over Ilarion in amazement. “Fiona did mention the engagement to me when we last spoke. I think… Wasn’t it the day of the engagement when she called me? Oh, how awful for Celine, to have lost dear Fiona so soon before she could see you wed.”
“You said Celine’s with Archie,” Uncle Peter grumbles impatiently, dispensing with the polite condolences. “Where are they?”
“Fiona’s death was sudden,” Ilarion explains. Probably the only time I’ll actually be grateful for his interruption. “Archie…didn’t take it well.”
Scratch that. He should have consulted with me before grabbing the reins and making shit up.
“So Celine’s at a private clinic with him, trying to soothe him through this very difficult day. I’m here representing Celine. And of course, to support Taylor.” He nods at me, tacking me on like an afterthought.
Uncle Peter clears his throat gruffly. “Right. Of course. I’m sorry, Taylor. This can’t be easy for you.”
“No,” I say, glaring at Ilarion. “It’s not. I—”
“If you’ll excuse me,” Ilarion says abruptly. “I need to go speak to the priest before the service starts. It was nice to meet you both. I just wish it had been under happier circumstances.”
He turns and walks away, taking that all-consuming presence with him.
The most shocking part of all?
I’m actually disappointed to see him go.
33
TAYLOR
A strange sense of numbness engulfs me when I watch the casket being lowered into the ground.
I stop feeling much of anything. I concentrate on the lingering sweetness ofiriskiin my mouth and Ilarion’s rich scent in my nostrils.
Not that he’s standing anywhere near me.
He’s taken up a post on the opposite side of the yawning chasm in the earth. It feels strategic, deliberate—though I can’t decide if the point is to make me look at him or to make me feel all alone. Either way, it’s working.
Mila and Dima flank me on either side. It might have been touching, if it weren’t for the fact that I know they were ordered to do it.
They aren’t here to comfort me.
They’re here to watch me.
