Valenna’s mind spun. If she hadn’t climbed out the window, or if she had missed the carriage, she never would have gone to Silvanlight. She never would have encountered Evander, fallen in love with him again, chased him into the Whyspenware.
If Olivette had caught her in Largotia, Evander would be alive.
Valenna covered her face with her hands and sobbed. Yarrow sprouted from wall to wall.
“Valeria, what is it?” Olivette asked, grasping Valenna’s elbows.
How could she ever explain? She didn’t have the energy. She didn’t have the words.
“I can’t … I can’t …” Valenna took a deep breath and tried to gather her courage.
“Tell me you’re not weeping over our father,” Olivette said with a hint of spite.
Valenna drew back. “What?”
“Did you not know?”
“Know what?”
“Valeria, our father was killed in the battle.”
Valenna didn’t feel a thing. Not grief, not relief, not anger at being deprived of the chance to kill him herself. She was hollow as a dead tree.
“Did Hera—the hydra—did she kill him?” she asked.
“No.” Olivette looked perplexed. “No, we don’t know who killed him.”
But Valenna knew. Evander had wreaked his own retribution on her father. It was like him to tell her to let go of her own need for revenge and then quietly carry it out himself.And then a wave of sickness washed over her. If Evander killed Cadmus, then that meant that Cadmus thrust the sword into Evander’s chest.
She doubled over, swallowing bile.
“What?” Olivette demanded, sounding panicked. “What is it?”
“I’m sorry,” she panted. “I was married a few weeks ago to a trainer from Silvanlight.”
“Oh … So what’s wrong?”
“He was killed in the battle.”
Olivette looked shocked, then her face softened. “Oh, Valeria … I’m so sorry.”
“You won’t be when I tell you the truth.”
Olivette raised her curved, blonde eyebrows. “Alright. Tell me.”
The ground rustled, and a wild rose snaked over Valenna’s knees. She wrenched it up by its roots and cast it aside. “I was married to Evandaine. Marwenna’s son.”
Olivette’s expression froze. “Was it a political marriage?”
Valenna shook her head. “We met and fell in love before we knew. By the time we found out, it was too late. I couldn’t stop myself from loving him. He was a wonderful, gentle man … and it’s my fault he was killed. I might as well have killed him myself.”
“No, no.” Olivette reached out and gripped Valenna’s shoulder. The warrior in Valenna rose to the bracing gesture. “It was Cadmus’s fault. If he died in this battle, then our father killed your husband. I’m only angry I didn’t get a chance to take his throne before his face and then hand you the sword to strike him down.”
Valenna shrank at this. She couldn’t be consumed by hate again. She owed Evander that much. He had died to win Talwaith for her, and she wouldn’t let it sink into waste.
Valenna stared at Evander’s shirt, unearthing memories so painful she wished she could drink some sleeping draught and make it all go black. “Will you take the throne?” she asked at length.
“Of course,” Olivette said. “Of both Sennalaith and Talwaith. I have soldiers securing the border now, and I intend to travel to Stratus tomorrow. You must come with me, of course.”
