Chapter 67
ELORA
“Where are they going? Why aren’t they coming back here?” I asked, frowning at my grandmother.
“Perhaps you should send the boy into their dreams tonight and ask them yourself. I’m sure if it was safe to tell us why and where, they would have done so,” Shivani said, hurrying down the hall in front of me. Various members of the court flattened themselves against the stone walls, eager to get out of her way. I’d never seen so many people in the palace before. One man carried a large wooden box, and I tried to figure out what he was carrying as he struggled to heft it out of Shivani’s way.
As we got closer, I realized it was full of silverware. I couldn’t stop the wrinkle of my nose when I understood why. They’d been hiding within the palace while the city was under siege, and they’d brought their valuables with them.
I didn’t much like the capital, aside from Reminy’s beautiful bookstore, but I’d been eager to get back. After arriving earlier in the day and being immediately set upon by soldiers because Shika landed on the palace, I realized it wasn’t the capital I missed at all. It was Mama.
I missed Rainier—my otya—as well, but it was different.
In all of my life, I’d never gone so many days without seeing Mama. Though I was still cross with her in some ways, much of that had settled. I was ready to see her again.
“Well, how are we to get—” I paused, not sure how much I should say aloud. “The important things we brought with us need to be delivered,” I said, proud of how I’d side-stepped revealing too much information to anyone who would overhear us. I’d stuffed an entire bag full of winterfrost roses from the garden we’d found, with the intent to give it to Mama.
“Elora, I just told you. Though I loathe the very idea of you sharing a look with that boy, let alone a word, ask that wretched Folterran to help you.”
My grandmother gathered her skirts, ascending a tall, spiral staircase with great haste. I bit my tongue, wanting to defend Cyran.
But Cyran had kissed me and hadn’t spoken about it since. He’d turned quiet and introspective, though he hadn’t lost his wit. But he acted as if we hadn’t shared a moment from my actual dreams.
Truly, it was just as earth shattering as the kiss which pulled me from a slumber no one else had been able to wake me from.
Better even—because it was real .
It felt life-changing. How Cyran could pretend it wasn’t was beyond me.
At the top of the staircase, my grandmother went into a small room with a spinning wheel and all manner of fabric within. I only got one foot through the door when she turned around.
“Elora, I understand you miss them. I cannot do anything about it though, so go harry someone else,” she said, before shutting the door in my face.
I only stared at the dark, knotted wood for a few seconds before turning and stomping back down the stairs. If she wanted to be useless all on her own, then fine. There was someone else I wanted to pester anyway.
I searched for Cyran within the palace for an hour before I gave up. After passing Thyra for a third time, she asked me why I insisted on buzzing around like an angry bumblebee, and I did my best not to feel insulted. My dress might have been yellow, but there was no black striping. I didn’t think I looked like a bee at all.
“Do you know where Cyran is?” I asked her, and her mouth twitched.
“Why do you seek him, Princess?” she asked.
“Because I want to talk to my parents, and he can send me into their dreams,” I retorted, wishing I kept the irritated tone out of my voice. Had she seen me kiss him?
“It isn’t even sunset,” she said, raising a brow. They were such a light blonde, they almost blended into her skin. Thyra glanced over her shoulder, rolling her eyes at the council member relocating his family and valuables to their standard chambers after being holed up in the center of the palace.
“I’d like to find him before then,” I said. “I miss Mama and Otya.”
Thyra beamed, pleased I’d finally settled on a name for Rainier. I’d mentioned it on purpose for a reason, and internally, I giggled at her predictability. I’d managed to distract her from whatever untoward assumption she was making.
“He wanted belongings. Probably for new room.”
“New room?”
“Shivani gave him chambers.”
“She hates him. Why would she do that?”
“She hates what he did to you, Princess.”
I frowned, not sure how to feel. As abrasive as my grandmother could be, I knew she cared. Which was more than I could say for the Highclere woman who had betrayed me.
“Come help me find him?” I asked, knowing Thyra wouldn’t let me venture off on my own. If she walked by my side, at least I’d feel as if she was a companion, perhaps even a friend, and not someone forced to follow my every move.
“Of course, Your Highness,” she said. “I believe novice dormitory is good place to start.”
“Thyra, if you don’t start calling me Elora, I swear to all the gods?—”
“You are just like Her Majesty.”
As we walked through the palace, finding our way into the early morning sun, I mulled her comment over. I didn’t appreciate how often I was compared to my mother. We were similar, but only because I was around her every day of my life. She was the one who poured herself into raising me and taking care of me. Faxon was a decent father until he wasn’t, but he didn’t go to the lengths Mama did.
He didn’t sacrifice happiness like Mama.
Perhaps I didn’t hate the comparison as much as I once did. My mother was a good woman who tried her best. It wasn’t her fault Theo died, and I worried my lip, ready to apologize for my behavior.
“Why running, Princess Elora?” Thyra asked, and I huffed a laugh over her using my name. I hadn’t even noticed my pace. The longer it took me to get to Cyran, the more time Mama had to sit with my disdain, and I needed to fix it. Immediately.
“You are a decorated soldier, Thyra, are you not? Can’t keep up with an angry bumblebee?”
A laugh slammed out of her, and I thought perhaps she could be two things. My guard and my friend. Though she was older than me, closer to my parents’ age, she was kind and fun and thoughtful. I was still getting used to this life, but perhaps I didn’t need to sort people into any type of category.
As we turned the corner, heading down a cobblestone alleyway lined with trees, I saw Cyran sitting on the front porch of the dormitory with his head in his hands.
“What’s the matter?” I murmured, slowing my steps as Thyra blazed ahead. Unhooking her ax from her belt, her mouth slipped into a straight line.
“Cy?” I called, and he lifted his head. Tears streamed down his face. His hazel eyes were greener than usual, and he sniffled.
“Don’t,” he said, unfolding long legs to stand. “They’re all dead.”
“Who? What?”
“The novices. The children. They’re all dead. My nieces and their mothers.”
Thyra marched past him, and pulled her tunic over her mouth as she stepped over the threshold.
“What in the gods’ name do you mean?”
“I-I don’t know,” he said, wiping his hand over his brow. “There’s blood everywhere. There aren’t any bodies, but there is a stench...” he trailed off.
He was shaking, and I stepped forward to grasp his hands in mine. They were cold, and Cy’s face had grown pale.
“I think you need to sit back down,” I said.
“No, Elora, don’t you see? I can’t sit. Not now.” Wrenching his hand away from me, he began to pace. His black shirt was tucked in at his trim waist, and his black trousers and boots were clean and tidy, but his hair was a disheveled mess.
As he paced, he pulled his fingers through it, and he appeared almost mad. He tugged at the long necklace hanging down the center of his chest.
“I don’t understand what happened,” I said. Thyra walked back outside, her face grim.
“Princess, I need to go look into this?—”
“Oh gods, when he mentioned the children this morning, I hadn’t realized—” Cy began, stopping abruptly in his pacing. “Elora, I have to go.”
He turned, biting his full, pillowy lip. I couldn’t think about how it had felt against mine—not right now.
“What do you mean you have to go?” I demanded. Thyra stepped away, still hovering nearby. She seemed torn between reporting what had happened and staying with me.
“They saved the children. That must have been who...I hadn’t understood what he meant, but it makes sense.” Cy ran his hands through his hair once more, eyes wide and wild. “I have to go, min viltasma . I’m sorry.”
“Stop, Cy!” I said, grabbing his wrist as he turned to leave. “Explain, please.”
“I have to help the rebels. They need me. They need a king,” he said, and as he spoke, his posture pulled taut. As if the mere acceptance of being a king had made him into one. “Your parents saved those little girls, but who will save my people?”
“You’re going to fight?” I asked, surprised. He had seemed content to let things play out in whichever way the gods saw fit. I couldn’t say the thought of him leaving and joining battle didn’t terrify me, but part of me felt some pride over who he was becoming.
“Yes,” he whispered, pulling my hands into his. “I have to fight for what is right. I have to give Folterra a chance to be better than this,” he said, gesturing toward the building behind him.
“When?”
“Now seems as good a time as any.” He wouldn’t meet my eyes. “Nixy is leaving tonight, and it makes sense for me to go with him.”
“What about the roses? They need the winterfrost roses, but I don’t know how to get them there.”
“I handled that this morning, Elora,” he said, a small smile lifting his lips. “I appeared to your father in a dream to coordinate our efforts. Nixy is bringing the roses to them at Nara’s Cove.” Before I could interrupt him to ask, he continued. “And the blooms from Faxon’s grave, just as you suggested.” Though I wanted to pepper him with more questions about my parents and Nara’s Cove, he squeezed my hands, searching my face for my reaction. As if he wanted my approval.
I wanted to speak to my parents, but I couldn’t be upset with Cyran. Though I’d been wrong for judging how he grieved, it was nice to see him care. Pulled from his grief, he had something to work toward.
But I didn’t want him to go, either.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” I asked, my emotions warring. How could I stand against a king who’d just decided to fight for his kingdom? But also, how could I stand idly by when the man who had stolen my heart raced off to a battle I wasn’t sure could be won?
“I have to, Elora.”
“All right,” I said, nodding. How could I argue?
I stared up at him, words dying on my tongue. He was so handsome. In the late morning light, I could see the dried path of tears on his cheeks. His ever-shifting eyes were bright, almost green as he looked down at me. His hands in mine had gone still, no longer shaking, and gently, he loosened his grasp.
Slowly, so frightfully slow, his hands lifted—and I sucked in a breath as they cradled my face.
“I’m in love with you, Elora. I think I have been since I met you; I just didn’t understand it until it was too late.”
Before I could respond, before I could tell him I thought I loved him too, his lips met mine. Soft and far too brief, his gentle kiss meant everything to me.
He pulled away for only a breath, then kissed me again. And I knew it for what it was—a goodbye.