My confidence slips, but I stand my ground. “I’m going to sit with Ophe.”
In a single blink, disdain replaces the grief. “You will join us at the front for the procession like the mourning sister andprincessthat you are. It's time you grow up and stop playing with thehelp,” she hisses under her breath.
I grind my teeth together to stop a retort, noting the expectant eyes drinking us in. A few are looking in Ophe’s direction, following the path of where I was looking before. TheElite are waiting on any morsel of drama they can find, and I’m not about to hand them my friend.
I shoot her an apologetic look. When she waves me off, I follow my mother to the front of the room. Hands curled into fists, I move towards the dais with my head held high. Nova would have entered quietly, head down. Ever the image of elegance and grace.
But I’m not Nova and never will be.
Colorful petals, and light blue wind wisps dance around our ankles as we walk down the aisle. The wisps seem happy to have visitors in their sanctuary.
The Vaylor family is standing at the end of the nave, right in front of the dais that opens up to the cliffside. Caspien steps forward as we break through the hordes of Fae who have come to express their sympathy.
“I’m so sorry about Nova.” He envelopes me in a hug. Unlike my mother’s, his embrace almost feels sincere, as if it was actually meant for me, not one for those around us, starving for royal attention.
Pulling back, he places his hands on my upper arms and looks down into my eyes. “Are you feeling better today?”
I’m not sure if he is referring to my new role or the death of my sister. But the intensity in his obsidian eyes has my stomach churning, and I instinctively step out of his hold.
King Kiel is flanking him on one side. Cillian is on the other, observing us. All three are dressed in formal mourning whites. Their colored heart stones shine even brighter against the starkness of their white shirts. Kiel loses interest in us quickly, returning his attention to the fawning subjects around him. But I have to force my gaze away from Cillian’s steady stare.
Breathe, Nissa. You can do this.
“I’m fine,” I tell Caspien, giving him a slight nod. My cheeks warm as I realize that my noncommittal answer is actually true. Ican hear the soft crying of mourners at my back, yet I haven’t so much as shed a tear for my own twin sister.
Caspien’s eyes soften, and he places a hand on my hip. He squeezes softly in reassurance, like he can see my thoughts written all over my face. A smile of sympathy lifts the corners of his lips.
Still sensing Cillian’s attention, I send a cursory glance in his direction and find his eyes on his brother’s hand at my hip. Unconsciously, I take a step back, then curse myself for being an idiot. Sure, when I was young and naive, I imagined Cillian and I would end up together, but I know better now. And I got over that delusion long ago.
“Well, I’m here if you need anything at all,” Caspien offers, his usual self-assurance slipping when I move away.
The hurt on his face settles deep in my chest. He’s mourning his beloved, I remind myself. We both have to make the best out of this incredibly messed-up situation. Caspien has been nothing but kind since the announcement. He loved my sister.
Unfortunately, that’s all I can see when I look at him. I can’t imagine a world where I forget that he was Nova’s betrothed. Her mate, not mine. Maybe he’ll feel the same way about this switch.
“Could we talk privately later?” I suggest. I’m doing my best to keep my eyes firmly on the eldest twin.
“That sounds good.” Caspien’s face breaks out into a relieved smile. He steps back into the procession and motions me into the space between him and his brother.
Taking my place, I can feel Cillian’s eyes burning into me, but I refuse to return his stare. Instead, I look up at Caspien as he addresses the next Fae that approaches him. He was made for this. The ease with which he talks to the Elite makes that evident. Just like Nova, he has sacrificed his life for the kingdom. Born and trained to do whatever is necessary for Castara.
The High Priestess’s voice fills the space. “By the grace of the Goddess, please be seated.”
I glance to the back of the room where I wish I could hide with Ophe. When she gives me two thumbs up, her eyebrows jumping up and down suggestively, I swallow back a choked laugh.
All mirth evaporates as Isolde appears at my side. “Princess. I assume you will be ready for the Royal Guardians tomorrow,” she says as she guides me towards the front row with the rest of the royals.
I blink at her multiple times. As we settle into our levitating seats, I search my brain. “I’m sorry, what am I supposed to be ready for?”
“Did you not receive my correspondence? It should have been hand-delivered this morning,” she says, tone annoyed. Her sharp eyes swing to the back of the room to the rows of royal servants. As if she’s about to summon one for a reprimand.
My mother leans around me. “No worries, my Queen,” she whispers. “The letter was delivered to my home this morning. Nissa will be packed and ready for the Guardians to move her into the castle at the first light of day.” Her eyes bore into me for compliance.
Thankfully, the High Priestess in her white mourning robe walks up on the dais at that exact moment, since my brain isn’t able to form any type of acceptable response. Nova moved into the castle around the last Beltane, and I suppose with her death they’re wanting to take extra precautions with me. Which doesn’t make me feel any better about the idea of moving in. In fact, it does the opposite.
I am going to be on lock-down tomorrow morning. My life will no longer be my own. I’ll have to hand over the little freedom I have left to the Vaylor family and the Goddess’s will.
My breaths are shallow, but I do my best not to focus on the future.
