Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
EIRA
They did as Amelia had ordered. The people gathered their dead and wounded, guided by magic to help bring all to peace as best they could. The process was agonizing.
When it was all over, Eira pressed her hands to the doors of the grand hall, and with the smallest of nudges, they parted with a quiet groan, as though if they were louder the entire castle would be rattled to pieces. Which, maybe after what had happened, it would.
It should fall to pieces. Everything else had.
The grand hall was quieter than it had ever been.
Even those early mornings when Eira would have been up all night and exploring the castle on her own before Cadeyrn awoke.
Even the echo of their shoes across the marble floor had a soft dullness to it as Eira led their small group inside. No one spoke as they entered.
This room was supposed to be loud and filled with laughter and celebration.
The ceiling-tall windows, which once showed off the brilliant sun and moon and stars now only displayed a dull cloudy sky and the images of people attempting to put pieces back together in the aftermath of Amelia’s destruction.
Echoes of people dancing and music playing wafted around Eira like ghosts of the memories of ceremonies and balls past before Eira was born.
When was the last time she’d attended a royal celebration?
The autumn ceremony when she and Alvis had danced together and represented Luana and Ray. The night all this began.
A choked sob brought Eira back to the present and forced her to turn her head to look at the scene she didn’t want to face. The one she never thought she would have to face. Not like this.
To the side Rose clutched Cal’s hand and sank to the floor as quiet tears rolled down her freckled cheeks.
The strong princess, now Minister, for a moment was a shadow of who she usually was.
Eira’s chest grew tight and as much as she didn’t want to, she forced herself to look at the place where Rose sat.
Where their father’s body lay so much like it did that fateful early autumn night.
Only this time there was no spell to bring him back.
No quests or Chalices or potions that would ever bring King Brennan back.
Now that Eira could see death as it truly was, she saw the difference between now and then.
There was no color in his cheeks. No hint of life that maybe he was just sleeping and would awake at any moment.
He looked so small. This once great man, full of life and laughter, who took up the entire room with his presence now seemed small. It wasn’t right. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.
Eira swallowed back the lump forming in her throat and shook her head as the gradual tears and sighs of the people around her wafted into the air like a sad and sobering wind. It couldn’t… he couldn’t…
Lord Phillip approached Eira and bent to one knee in front of her. His eyes were puffy and bloodshot with tears pooling and streaming down his face. “The king… the king is dead…” he said through chocked sobs. “Long live the queen.”
Soft fabric rustled as the rest of the group turned to face Eira and echoed “Long live the queen.”
It wasn’t a triumphant or joyful moment, only a simple statement. Like they needed to resign to the moment in spite of their grief and loss.
Eira continued to shake her head. “But… the council hasn’t given me my title back yet. This wasn’t… not…”
Not like this. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.
“It’s what your father wanted,” Lord Phillip said. “This is how it always should have been, and we should have fought for you more. I will not make that mistake again.”
At her side, Cadeyrn grasped Eiras hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “The crown is yours, Eira. It always was. This is who you are.”
With each passing moment, Eira felt her heart bend and twist more and more and now it was on the verge of completely breaking and shattering. “We were supposed to make amends. He was supposed to grow old. It wasn’t supposed…”
“But it is,” Rose stated in a flat voice. Her usual bright green eyes were dull and wet with tears, but there was still a hint of that strength Eira knew so well behind them. “He died for us, to protect us, so you can take his place.”
He had. That fateful blow had been intended for Eira, but Father had taken it instead.
“You should sit on the throne,” a voice echoed out from the doorway.
Eira turned to see Finley standing there, her hand resting on the hilt of her sword.
She’d been with their group the whole time but remained in the doorway, not allowing herself to fully enter.
Eira had forgotten she was even there, which was surprising.
Finley never let people forget she was there.
Eira shook her head again. She couldn’t stop shaking her head. “I can’t…”
“Yes, you can,” Finley said a little louder and took a few more steps in.
The new volume of her voice felt jarring amongst the quiet of the room.
“Amelia wants you to break. She wants you to hide and give up. Her fatal blow may have landed on the person she didn’t intend, but she will still use it to her advantage. Show her she won’t break you.”
“But she won’t see me. She’s gone.”
For now.
Finley shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. You’ll know. We’ll know she won’t break you. You are the queen, and you deserve your place regardless of how it happened. Take your seat, your majesty.”
She dipped into a low bow and extended an arm out to the throne.
Even with Finley echoing the same advice Eira had given her only days before it felt wrong.
Eira wanted to cry and mourn and scream and lock herself away and curse this wretched day.
Finley and everyone else were right, though.
This is who she was. Eira had been born to take her place as Queen of Cresin.
She always knew it would come, and if there was any hope of them defeating Amelia once and for all, Eira couldn’t break.
Not yet. When she was finally alone and with Cadeyrn she could break for a moment.
But not now. Right now, she needed to be queen.
She squeezed Cadeyrn’s hand, which was still clasped in hers, and finally she nodded. Eira lifted her quivering chin and with Cadeyrn at her side she approached the throne. It was Luana’s throne and not hers, but she had a feeling the goddess would permit the use for this purpose.
Eira turned and sat on the seat while the others knelt and bowed before her while the king, her father, still lay on the floor.
They were all there, her odd little group of family and friends.
Alvis and Myra, Aytigin, Rose and Cal, Lord Phillip, even Finley and Rafe.
It wasn’t the joyful and triumphant moment Eira always imagined.
It was terrible and dark and wretched. But she and those with her would make it right.
“Long live the queen,” Aytigin announced from the back of the room.
“Long live the queen,” the others echoed, a soft whisper, but it was a promise. A promise they would come back and they would not break.