Once inside, they quickly get to work on my hair, styling it into soft curls that hang past my shoulders. Nora pulls half of my hair back, creating a beautiful half-up, half-down hairstyle that calls attention to my antlers. While Nora works on my hair, Ruby begins applying makeup, pulling brushes and colorful containers from her bag.
When she hands me the hand mirror, I’m stunned to find a version of me that’s unfamiliar to me. I look like myself, but magnified. My cheekbones seem more prominent, and every feature is accentuated. Although she applied foundation, she didn’t cover up my white freckles. Instead, she accentuated them by placing a shimmering powder along them. She also lined my eyes with a shimmery, white liner, brightening my amber eyes. The rest of the look is subtle, with a light application of blush along my cheekbones and mascara completing the look.
“Wow,” I say. “I’ve never looked this amazing,” I confess.
Ruby chuckles. “Makeup is a magic of its own.”
Nora claps and says, “Up, up. Let’s get you into the dress. It’s almost time.”
She removes the dress from the hanger, and together, they carefully lower it over my head as to not mess up their respective works of art. Nora zips the dress closed, and I feel it hug my body, the satin cool on my skin. It fits perfectly. The neck of the dress comes to just below my collarbones. The sleeves are fitted, ending in simple black lace on the wrists. The same black lace also lines the bottom of the dress, which falls just below my knees. The dress hugs my torso, then flares back out, loose on my hips and lower half. It shows off my figure while remaining both classy and demure.
Behind me, Ruby pulls a black box from her bag and opens it. She removes a small crown made of delicate bronze branches that dip to form a small V, designed to rest on the wearer’s forehead. Where the branches meet, a bronze deer head holds up a large diamond at the tip of its antlers. There’s a small clasp in the back so it can be placed around the antlers. Ruby holds it out to me, and I accept it carefully.
The crown is light in my hands and cool to the touch. It’s utterly beautiful. I admire it a few seconds longer before handing it back to her. “Would you mind helping me get this on?” I ask her.
She takes the crown in her hand before unclasping it. She places it on my head and clasps it shut before stepping back. It rests on my head, the diamond and the deer lying just below my hairline. I stare at myself in the mirror.
“It’s beautiful,” I whisper. “Thank you.”
“Of course, Your Highness,” she says softly.
I don’t even correct her. The title feels appropriate, for once.
When their work is done, Ruby and Nora pack up their belongings and escort me downstairs where Elle and Luca are waiting. Elle mouths, “Holy shit.” Luca just gives me a terse nod.
Outside, gray clouds flood the sky as if the world is also sad today. It feels exactly like the day I found out the royal family was murdered. I fight back a shudder as I think about how I’m currently on the way to bury their bodies.
As we approach the burial site, the sounds of quiet conversation drift toward me. Over the voices, the soft string of a guitar plays in the background. My sensitive nose picks up new scents of jasmine perfume, musty cologne, the sweet scent of flowers, and the cloying scent of rot.
The forest grows denser, but the path continues. We walk for another few minutes before the clearing is visible. A small band sits in the back, separate from the guests. A female—human, based on her ears—softly strums a guitar while a man sings a melancholy song. Seated before them are rows of people, all facing three bodies lying on top of wooden tables. Each body is wrapped in white linen, bouquets of wildflowers resting neatly on top.
I’ve been to one funeral before for one of Cally’s aunts. Her body wasn’t wrapped in linen, hidden from the funeral spectators. Because death is a natural part of life, the body is always placed directly into the ground, allowing its bones to sink into the dirt, returning the magic gifted to us back to the Mother.
But there is nothing natural about this. These bodies are covered because they were murdered.
The reality of what’s happening slams straight into my heart.
Elle leads me to a seat in the front row, Luca following close behind me. The guests fall silent as I make my way down the aisle. Several people turn in their seats to look at me. I stare straight ahead, willfully not returning their stares.
We sit, joining Ivan and Holly in the front row. In front of us, three bodies are laid out, the smaller two closest to the front row and the larger body centered behind them. I assume the larger body is my father, while the two smaller bodies in front are the late Queen and Princess.
Someone cries softly behind me.
A priest dressed in a black suit steps up to the platform. His skin is a shade of deep brown, complementing the forest-green tie around his neck. He stands tall, his ivory antlers adding to his impressive height. He holds a leather book in his large hands.
“Welcome,” his voice booms as he addresses the crowd. “We are gathered here today to mourn the passing of High King Silas, High Queen Adelaide, and High Princess Etta. Although we will mourn them, we will also celebrate the memories of them, their service, and their significant contributions to the kingdom.”
He pauses as he scans the crowd, his eyes stopping briefly on me.
“When I first learned that the royal family had been taken from us, I was mortified. King Silas had been a dear friend to me and my family. He was a strong believer in the faith and in doing everything he could for the kingdom. Although he and his beloved were taken from us—too soon, entirely too soon—I am at least comforted to know they are onto the next part of their spiritual journeys. It is unknown whether their journey continues or if they’ve reached their final resting place with the Mother. Either way, they continue in Her name.”
A raven caws from the shadows of the forest. The ancient trees around us stand tall and close together, reaching toward the sky. How many funerals have these trees witnessed? How many tears have spilled, soaking into the soil beneath us, quenching their very roots?
Gray clouds hover over the canopy of trees, hiding the sun behind them and leaving a chill in the air. Past the wrapped bodies, a single doe stands still behind one of the trees.
“—watching over them. And now for a word from Ivan Lockewood,” the priest says before stepping aside.
Beside me, Ivan stands, and I turn my gaze back to the ceremony, watching as he makes his way up to the podium and places a crisp piece of paper flat on the surface. He looks at the crowd slowly and clears his throat. “Hello, everyone. Thank you all for coming. I’m sorry that you’ve been invited under these circumstances.”
