I turn away from Nulok. I cannot look at him. Not if he is… My power surges, pounding at the inside of my skull, begging to be unleashed. I hold it in. Even if I do not want to. Not when Nulok lies there. The copper of his hair like spilled blood on the soft green beneath him.
Emotions threaten to flood me, but I refuse to be useless now. I do not want to grieve ever again. He is fucking alive. My eyes were playing tricks on me.
We form a protective circle. Riven and Bane flank me, their wings stretching to guard. Jestin shields our rear, his glass blades whirling as if searching for a target. Aidon’s form moldsinto something with wings and soars above us, cutting through the tree crown with furious grace.
All that time, the forest listens.
Then, it sings.
A sound threads through the air, high and sharp, almost pleasant. I tilt my head, confused. The tone climbs higher.
It is addictive, like salt on the tongue that burns but makes you crave more.
“Do not listen!” Someone screams.
I clap my hands over my ears, but the sound is already inside me, vibrating behind my eyes. I drop to my knees, every nerve itching with that unbearable, seductive pitch.
I try to summon a soundproof shield, but before I can form it, warmth trickles down my ear, thick and wet.
Blood.
And then, nothing.
Chapter 18
“You are going to the Death Passing Ceremony. No discussion.” Gram’s tone is as cold as the marble stones in my bedchamber.
“I don’t care!” I snap, stomping my feet. “I have plans already. Besides, you don’t make Trisha go! You always treat her better.”
Grandma takes a deep breath and studies me. Her golden eyes soften, and she drops onto the chair, gesturing for me to do the same. I refuse. She shakes her head, and some onyx locks escape her bun; mine mirror hers, though they are more indigo. Opening my jewellery cabinet, she pulls out the orange ruby given to me for my first century birthday. She flips it between her fingers and for a moment, she looks tired, normal, not like a High Queen at all.
Tough shit. I am tired too.
Grams fixes me with a long stare, and I pat myself on the shoulder for resisting her manipulation.
“You know very well she is too young to witness it. Her time will come. Now it is yours.” Her tone is flat, bored. No energy wasted on sounding gentle while she rips my heart in half.
“But Gram, please! Dante is leaving right after the ceremony, and I haven’t seen him in two moons!” I sink into the plush mattress, hoping she will answer as my grandmother, not my Queen.
Dante and I have planned today’s supper for weeks. Chief Gerald is already on his way to fetch him.
“Seleste Berigander, you will listen to me,” she growls, a lion-like wrinkle forming on her forehead. “Go say your goodbyes to Dante. I will see you at the ceremony. You need to learn it, child.”
I don’t believe she is serious. I hate her.
“Yes, My Lady,” I drawl as I rise, circling her without a bow, then slam the door behind me.
She shoots her power and shrinks my jewellery so it hurts me, but I breathe through it and the pieces go back to their normal size. Slowly, I learn to shrug off her influence more and more. I know it bothers her, yet she does not comment.
Dante thinks it is great as it means I surpass her. I love him for his faith.
Jestin, on the other hand, always whines for more training. Killjoy.
I think back to the problem at hand. Disappointment overwhelms me. Tears escape despite my effort.
Gram always treats Trisha better. She can do more, while I am always supervised and judged. Unfair. Maybe I should tell Gram about Trisha sneaking off to the war camp.
I head to Dante’s room, intending to apologise for the rain-check. The palace hushes around me. I don’t mind. I don’t want small talk.
