I struggle to swallow as another spirit whispers in my ear.
“Samaria.”
I glance to my left. The same spirit I swore I saw when Sorin died. The same one I saw just now in the hallway.
Her body ebbs and flows like a breeze. Her dark, red hair is long and loose. Her skin glowing much like Elwyn’s. Her rich eyes flare as I meet her, and for a moment, I forget she’s dead.
Elwyn smiles and nods, extending her hand to the spirit Enchantress. They clasp hands, their faces beaming.
“Celia,” Elwyn says and my stomach drops.
Sorin’s mother.
“So, Samaria,” Lady Mordona says, interrupting the rising panic in my chest, “where is your brother?”
Every single pair of eyes in the room lands on me. My legs tremble as I stand, but I stand anyway, dropping my hands to my sides.
Be strong.
“He has gone to find the Fates.”
Just as I thought, the room erupts in gasps and hushed whispers. Lady Mordona scoffs, throwing her hands in the air. I watch closely as Lady Oletta leans into her, whispering something I’ll never know.
“You have wasted our time, again,” Mordona snaps, looing at Calix and Thaddeus. She stands to leave, not bothering to right her chair as it topples backward and the thrumming in my chest intensifies.
I have to convince them Sorin is the heir. Have to convince them to back him in front of the council.
Without Sorin being here.
Have to prove that he is the king, otherwise…
“Wait!” I block her path before she can reach the door.
“Move, girl.” She pushes past me, but I dart in front of her again.
“He may not be here,” I say, “but I have this.” I slide Sorin’s decree of birth from my pocket, thankful that despite his urgency to leave, he remembered to pass it to me.
Lady Mordona’s eyes don’t leave mine, even as I hold the parchment into the air. “I have seen this,” she snarls. “It isn’t enough. The four families of the Guilds have been entrusted by Valebridge for centuries to help oversee all of Teravie. It’s justas much our duty to look after this country as it is the kings. We will not so readily appoint a new ruler without solid proof that he is the rightful heir. We are all enraged at the outcome of King Roman, but this is not enough.”
She shoulders past me, and this time I let her go.
What would Sorin do? What would he?—
A cold drift breezes across my neck so I flip my hands up.“What wouldyoudo, Sam?”Celia’sspirit whispers in my ear. The hair on my arms and neck raise.
What would I do?
I’ve never been as eloquent as Sorin. Never been as diplomatic or level headed. Always the first to lose my temper or spoil a surprise.
“Be strong,”my mother would say.
Right, be strong.
Don’t cry.
Chin up.
Smile. Wider.
