The sun was setting over the quiet lunaria garden, the sky glowing a soft orange. Evelina hated how the land was bright and flourishing on a day like this. There should be clouds in the sky, perhaps even a thunderstorm. The land should be grieving just as Evelina was. Didn’t it know it had just lost its king?
Even though her father wasn’t bound to the land as her mother was, it seemed wrong for the skies to be so peaceful.
“Why are the rebels doing this?” she sobbed. “There’s been more and more attacks, Daimon.” She buried her face in her knees, her body curled in on itself.
“I don’t know,” he whispered. “It isn’t fair.”
His arm stayed wrapped around her shoulders as she cried. Her tears didn’t dry until the sun was nearly set and it was time for her to go back to the palace. He walked her back, glancing her way every few minutes.
When they reached the entrance, she turned abruptly toward him. “Can we meet back in our garden tomorrow?”
That’s what it had become—theirs. He was her closest friend, the one she could count on to always be there.
He nodded quickly. “As long as you need.”
She met him in the garden every sunrise after that day. From sunup to sundown, they hid away in the flowers. All of her siblings were a wreck. Carwyn hid away at the temple to pray, Lyria stayed by Mother’s side without fail, and Ren left to train with Aegis soldiers. Her mother was even worse off. She might have donned the mask of queen to lead her realm in this difficult time, but Evelina could see it wearing on her day by day.
They all were seeking their own safe place to heal from the grief.
All Evelina wanted was Daimon.
Evelina slammed a jar down harder than she meant to, the shelves rattling. She cursed and straightened it, checking it over for any cracks. She tried to ignore the pain in her chest, the deep wound that had been sliced wide open. No matter how she willed her thoughts elsewhere, the memory still came.
He was late this morning.
They had fallen into a routine for the past several months, meeting at the garden, sharing dreams for hours on end.
She paced the garden, her stomach twisting and heart racing the more time that passed. He was never late, and on the days they didn’t meet, they always talked about it the day before. He had told her yesterday he would see her tomorrow, but tomorrow had come and he wasn’t here.
Before the rebels, she wouldn’t have thought much of it. But since then, villages had been attacked, people had gotten hurt, and wyverns had descended from the sky to choose fae as their Riders. Any one of those options wasn’t something she wanted to consider happening to him.
When she finally heard the crunch of his boots behind her, she whirled around and flung her arms around his neck.
“I thought something had happened to you!” she admitted with an embarrassed laugh as she let go. “Don’t scare me like that.”
When her eyes met his, she didn’t see the gaze of her friend staring back at her. There was a glint in his eye, a mixture of determination and guilt.
“What’s wrong?” Her mind raced with thoughts of what could’ve happened, who she might’ve lost this time.
He hesitated, his midnight eyes shining with an apology she didn’t understand.
“I was chosen, Eve.” His grin was lopsided, and the unmistakable lilt of excitement seeped into his words.
“What do you mean?” she breathed.
He looked up at the sky, a sense of longing swirling in his gaze. “A wyvern chose me. She’s incredible, you should see her?—”
“But—” Her voice broke. “You’re not old enough to be a soldier!”
His smiledropped.
Evelina’s hands began to shake. He couldn’t leave to go be a Rider. She knew fae of all kinds were being recruited to go learn how to fight, but he couldn’t be one of them. They were still children.
“Well, I won’t be a soldier yet,” he said slowly. “I’ll get to learn how to bond with Zephyr with the other young Riders. We won’t get to be soldiers until we pass our trials.”
He reached out and laid his hands over hers, soothing the tremble in them. His thumb glided over her fingers until the shaking lessened.
She shook her head and took a step back. “Don’t go.”
