What in the Ancestors-damned hell did that mean?
She collapsed against me.
I went to my knees, holding her upright. She wasn’t unconscious, but she wasn’t in full control of her body either. Where seconds before she’d been trembling, now she was eerily still. I found myself pressing a finger to her throat to check that she was still breathing, her heart still pumping. When I’d reassured myself of that much, I just let myself hold her. I heard my mother issuing orders, shepherding the elemental males into the great hall to have their ears pierced with amorite immediately. I shielded Veyka with my body, the stone parapet at her back, so that none of the courtiers, elemental or terrestrial, could get to her.
But I felt them come, their presence steady as they assembled around us. Cyara, Lyrena, Guinevere… the Knights of the Round Table. Another few minutes, and with Parys sorted by my mother, we’d be complete for the first time in months.
They stood arrayed around us, unflinching sentinels until Veyka regained herself.
Her voice was raspy when she finally lifted her head and spoke. “Where is Parys?”
Gwen did not speak. Nor did Lyrena. Or Cyara.
It could not be. Gwen would have told me—should have told me, the moment she had me alone. Surely it had been clever Parys who had deduced the plan for separating the males, who had helped keep the survivors—
Veyka straightened in my arms.
“Guinevere.” The High Queen of Annwyn’s voice did not shake.
But Gwen’s did. “He is gone, Your Majesty.”
6
VEYKA
There was such silence in my head.
Blessed, beautiful silence. I was not kneeling on the rough flagstones of Eilean Gayl’s ancient bridge. Nor was I surrounded by the ragged remnants of my court, my Knights of the Round Table. I did not disappear into the void or try to escape to a realm beyond description or imagination.
I did not exist at all.
How could I?
He is gone, Your Majesty.
Silence reigned. I did not hear those words. I felt them.
The threads of my being snagged and severed. The twisted, intricate knots of love and friendship that held me together suddenly frayed—one critical, crucial, beautiful string severed forever.
I needed that second of silence to stretch out forever. A thousand years. Longer. Even that would not be enough to mourn him. But what I needed was no longer a consideration. I sucked in a breath that could not become a sob.
Then the world came crashing in once more.
Elayne’s voice, giving sharp, precise orders to terrestrials, organizing accommodations for the elemental survivors. Crying—there was so much crying. Children who’d lived through hell and now were a continent away from everything they’d ever known clung to mothers whose elemental facades had long since shattered. I heard Maisri’s dulcet tones, singing a soft terrestrial lullaby to a squalling babe.
Lyrena recounted the details of the rescue to a sniffling Cyara. My handmaiden had lost her father tonight. Or weeks ago. Ancestors, there was so much I did not know. The weight of it pressed in on me, heavier with every word and whimper.
Beneath it all, the low rumble of Arran’s beast vibrated, a constant reminder, an eternal threat.
I needed to speak. They all awaited my reactions, my orders. But when I opened my mouth, no words came out. Just silence.
Arran’s arms tightened around me. No words came into my mind through that bond between us, but I knew he understood me just the same.
“Tell us,” Arran commanded, his voice grave.
I couldn’t bring myself to look up at Gwen. I let myself stare past Arran’s shoulder, to the scarred rocks that formed the walls on either side of the bridge. If I looked at anyone, I would break. My own grief was too heavy all on its own.
Gwen sucked in a measured inhale, but she could not hide the trembling of her voice. “Merlin and Igraine conspired with the Shadows. In attempting to ascertain the depth of their treachery, Merlin escaped. I went after her. Igraine captured Parys.” Her voice broke. “I was too late.”
