I glance back.
King Silas stands near the dais, his expression dark, his scowl barely concealed as his eyes follow me. There is no sympathy in his gaze, no shared grief. Only the cold, seething resentment of a man who still believes I am to blame for the loss of his son.
A chill passes over me, but I do not look away.
I will not cower.
Lifting my chin, I meet his gaze with resentment of my own before I turn and walk from the hall, never once breaking my stride.
ChApter
Two
As soon as I enter my chambers, I claw at the laces of my bodice.
The silk clings to me as if it were painted onto my skin, heavy and stiff, the fabric pressing against my ribs. It’s almost as suffocating as the hold King Silas has on my freedom. I rip at the ties, impatient, my breath shallow from the weight of it all. The black skirts pool around my feet with a sigh, but there’s no relief—not really. Just the ghost of the throne room still stabbing at my thoughts, wrapping around my throat like a noose.
“Your Highness,” Indira says sharply as she follows me into the room, “you must remain in your mourning clothes.”
I glance over my shoulder. She’s standing by the doorway, her hands folded neatly in front of her, but her brow is pinched with worry. Whether for me or for her duties, I can’t say.
“Must I?”
“We’ve gone over this. It is the custom,” she says with a shrug. “A woman who has lost her betrothed is to observe a period of mourning. During this time, you are expected to wear black in public and to refrain from being seen alone with a man.”
I exhale sharply. “That’s ridiculous.”
“Perhaps. But it is tradition. And King Silas will expect you to follow it, especially since he is keeping guardianship over you. To the people of Hedera, you are a grieving princess, and anything less than a proper display of mourning will be taken as an insult.”
My fingers curl into fists at my sides. I don’t want to mourn Torbin. I don’t want to pretend that I’m sad he isn’t here, because what I feel is quite the opposite. I’m finally free from his torment, no longer repressed by his manipulation. But Indira is right. I don’t want to give the king any reason to make things harder for me—or for Delasurvia. And I don’t want the people of Hedera to think I’m a cold, heartless, thankless bitch.
Indira watches me for a moment. “For now, it is important to do what is expected of you.”
“I’ll wear my black trousers.” My voice is hoarse as I step toward the armoire. “Is that good enough?”
“Barely.” Her tone is disapproving but not cruel.
I yank open the doors and tug free the dark trousers and a loose black tunic. The material is plain, less regal than that of the gowns I’m expected to wear but still acceptable. Still in line with the appearance of a grieving princess. Whatever that means.
The king’s words still echo in my skull. The subtle condemnation in them. His gaze when he spoke of Torbin’s fall—not letting me forget that I was the one who pushed him.
Indira watches me as she gathers my discarded dress from the floor. “You’re also expected to stay in your room most of the time, so why does it look like you’re planning on going somewhere?”
I shove one leg into the trousers, then the other. “I need to see my uncle, Indira,” I say, my voice low but unwavering. “Surely, you can understand that.”
There’s a beat of silence, then the soft rustle of fabric as she steps closer.
“There hasn’t been any change,” she says, softer now. “Perhaps if you give it more time—”
“He needs family by his side.” I fasten the front of my tunic, the motion stiff with tension. “No matter if he’s consciousto realize it. And I’m the only family he’s got. We’re blood.” And after what the king said today, I need to see someone who might still remember who I am beneath all the mourning lace and silk.
Indira hesitates. “Then at least allow me to accompany you—”
“No.” I turn to her, gentler this time. “Sir Holden will escort me.”
She doesn’t look pleased, but after a moment, she dips her chin in a slow nod. “Very well. But please don’t linger long. It wouldn’t be good if anyone saw you dressed like this.”
“I won’t linger,” I promise. “And thank you.”
