“Ah,” Lady Anabeth said, watching as a few other servants hurried by, one of them crying softly. “And you still refuse to tell me what this ‘serious matter’ is?”
Soren took a deep breath, calming the anxiety churning in her stomach. “I think it would be best if the princess spoke to you about it, my lady.”
They entered the royal wing, and Lady Anabeth stopped short as she saw the people gathered around the closed door to the prince’s chambers. Her hand raised to her throat, fingers tracing over a thin gold chain that dipped below the neckline of her dress.
“Come, my lady,” Soren said softly.
Lady Anabeth’s voice was thin as she replied, “Alright.”
Soren led her the rest of the way down the quiet hall to the princess’ chambers and knocked once before opening the door. “Your Highness, I have returned with Lady Anabeth.”
The door was flung open, and Mona came into view, her voice frantic as she said to Soren, “I need your help. Now.”
Soren glanced at Lady Anabeth, whose delicate face had paled. They both hurried inside to find the bed chamber empty.
“Thelia is with her. They’re on the balcony,” Mona told them.
Soren’s breath caught, the hairs on her neck raising. If she understood Mona correctly, if the princess jumped from that balcony…
They would all be dead too, but not before being punished in the most severe manner possible for letting the princess do such a thing.
“What is happening?” Lady Anabeth demanded now, the panic in her voice mirroring Soren’s.
“Ana?”
They all turned as Princess Cion spoke. She stood in the doorway to the balcony, her nightgown floating around her, making her look ghostly in the moonlight. Behind her, Thelia mouthed something, but Soren could only make out one word.
Jump.
Lady Anabeth rushed forward, and Princess Cion did too, her body crumpling as she fell into her arms. She sobbed, and Lady Anabeth stroked her hair just as Soren had done in the hall not so long ago. But there was something different about the way Lady Anabeth held the princess, something tender and intimate.
“Shhh, Cion,” Lady Anabeth murmured. “It’s alright, I’m here. I’m always here.”
“H-he’s d-d-dead!” Princess Cion gasped. “And now I am—” She cut herself off, shaking her head.
Soren’s eyes widened as she realized it. She had been so preoccupied with retrieving Lady Anabeth, she hadn’t even thought of what tonight truly meant for the princess.
Now, Princess Cion was the heir to the throne of Aren.
The realization hit Soren like a blow to the stomach, and she felt for a moment as if her lungs were robbed of air. What would happen now? Princess Cionhadto bond with a dragon. That much was clear from the prophecy. But would King Johannas send his heirinto the dangers of the war?
She realized another harsh truth as she watched Lady Anabeth hold the princess. The princess would be expected to marry and produce heirs for the royal bloodline now. Whatever this was between her and the scribe’s daughter would have to end, or at least change.
Suddenly, the princess’ tears and panic made more sense. She was not just mourning a brother, who had mostly been absent, a neutral figure at best to her.
She was mourning alife.
“You may leave us,” Lady Anabeth said, looking around at Soren, Mona, Jasmen, and Thelia. “Go to your quarters for the night and do not return until morning.”
“Yes, my lady,” they all murmured, curtsying low before hurrying out of the chamber. None of them spoke, not until they reached the servant’s hall.
When they arrived in the dim cold of the quarters, they were surrounded by several other staff, all asking the same thing.
“Is he dead?”
Thelia and Jasmen slipped away to their room before they were forced to answer.
Mona glanced at Soren, who took a short breath and told them, “He’s gone. I saw it with my own eyes. Now, leave us be.”
