In this moment, everything else fades—the room, the people, even the pain—and for just a second, I’m a little girl again, standing beside my mother, feeling the warmth of her presence as though she never left.
Chaptereighteen
Everly
“The seelie royal court has arrived, Princess,” Nolan says, stepping into the room. I didn’t even see him leave. Everything feels surreal, and I’m struggling to keep up. “We will greet them in the courtyard so we can leave with the funeral procession and make it to Elysium Bluffs by sunset.”
Nervous energy thrums through me, which seems to be a constant hum beneath my skin. I wish Maxon were here—not just to calm my nerves, but to say goodbye to his aunt. The ache of his absence hits harder now. He deserves to be here.
I push up from my chair and round the table. As I pass Raiden, he lays a hand on my shoulder, the weight of it both grounding and comforting. Our eyes meet, and in that moment, a thousand unspoken emotions flicker between us—grief, understanding, a quiet promise to see this through together.
Tristan and Kian pull open the doors, and we step into the corridor, my heart pounding a little faster as the anticipation of what’s to come settles in my bones.
Lutin’s mauve eyes catch mine as we exit. He bows low in his black soldier’s uniform, a picture of respect, but it’s the woman beside him who draws my attention.
Someone new. Someone I don’t recognize.
I know I’ve stared too long when she steps forward, raising her fist to her heart in a formal salute.
“My name is Senka, Your Majesty.” Her voice is low, measured. Her black hair, sleek and midnight-dark, is pulled back in a tight ponytail, accentuating the sharp lines of her face. Her eyes, a soft shade of periwinkle, catch mine—an unusual shade that means she’s lower on the magical scale. But I sense strength in her all the same.
Lutin steps forward, mimicking her gesture. “The two of us are to escort you to the bluffs, along with Tristan and Kian, Your Majesty.”
“Thank you.” I bow my head slightly in acknowledgment. It feels like the proper thing to do, but when I lift my gaze again, I’m met with wide eyes. Looking around the group, I see varying degrees of amusement on their faces.
“Too naïve and kind for your own good, Princess Vera,” Valric murmurs as he strides past me, his words half a warning, half a tease. I shoot him a look, but he’s already gone, disappearing down the hall.
I turn to Zaria, who only smiles and slips her arm through mine, pulling me forward. “We shouldn’t keep the Seelie Queen waiting,” she says in a hushed, conspiratorial whisper. “Who knows how many people she’ll offend while we dawdle.”
A weak laugh bubbles up from my throat despite the tension curling in my chest. “Let’s hope the list is short today.”
Stepping out of the castle’s main doors, I’m immediately greeted by the sight of horse-drawn carriages lining the courtyard, their ornate designs glistening in the pale morning light. Fae from various courts have gathered. Gowns flow in the breeze, a mix of colors and textures. It’s like Maxon’s coronation day all over again, only this time, the atmosphere is far heavier. There’s tension in the air, a sense of anticipation that gnaws at my nerves.
The women are adorned in gowns that range from extravagant and shimmering to more practical yet elegant attire, but all carry an air of formality. Each dress seems to reflect the identity of their respective courts—some bright and elaborate, others dark and muted. I can identify the Summer and Spring Courts easily, their colors brighter and hair color lighter. The males are a similar mix, their clothing ranging from formal coats to soldier’s uniforms and casual breeches paired with tunics, though even the casual ones seem carefully chosen for the occasion. They stand tall, their postures rigid.
As my attention sweeps over the crowd, it strikes me how unfamiliar they all are. No faces stand out, no names surface. It’s as though I’ve walked into a gathering of strangers, each of them more alien to me than the last. The cobblestone path that cuts through the courtyard is barely visible beneath the press of bodies, horses, and carriages, leaving me feeling even more out of place.
Then, my eyes catch on a cluster of fae with pale blonde and white hair, their presence like a beacon among the crowd. My attention focuses, and I spot Alivar standing among them. His tall figure is unmistakable, his posture a blend of strength and calm. Next to him is a woman whose pale blonde hair almost glows in the early morning sun, cascading down her back in perfect waves. Her deep purple eyes catch the light and hold a sharpness that demands respect. There’s no mistaking her—Queen Anwyn.
She stands with an air of authority, her presence commanding even in the sea of fae. The way she holds herself, regal and unyielding, leaves little doubt that she is a force to be reckoned with. Alivar leans slightly toward her, speaking quietly, his expression unreadable from this distance.
I hesitate for a moment, feeling so out of place and completely unsure.
Crap. I can feel my anxiety creeping in, tightening in my chest.
Just as the panic threatens to take over, I feel a gentle pat on my arm. The touch pulls me out of my head, snapping me back to reality. Turning my head, I find Zaria beside me, eyes warm with understanding. She says nothing, just offers a quiet presence that somehow helps steady the storm inside me.
I manage to muster a small, grateful smile, though I know it doesn’t quite reach my eyes.
“Alivar won’t let his mother step out of line,” she whispers in my ear.
“Really?”
“He might not say it, but I can see the way he is looking at you right now, and he cares for you.”
My heart thumps hard, and I feel a sickening sensation wash over me. It takes all my strength not to look over at him. “You’re wrong.”
Zaria shrugs and gives me a soft smile. “I might be, but he will protect you. We all will.”
