Olena looked like she wanted to argue, but General Kelwyn quickly continued, “Your Majesty, I mean no offense, but you are obviously unwell. You must be at your full strength if you wish to defeat Bain, even with the spider silk. You have to survive laying the trap before you can hope to kill him. I think we should make Tanvir’s idea our main plan and take the pressure off you trying to learn to shift so quickly. If you are able to do it in the next week, we will adjust accordingly. But otherwise, I think this might work.”
Evelayn nodded demurely, but Tanvir could see the relief she was trying to hide. “I definitely agree that it is worth discussing with Teca. If her priestesses can somehow keep Bain from scenting the Draíolon aiding me, this could work.”
Tanvir nodded encouragingly at her when her eyes found his once more. And for the first time since they’d returned to the castle, Evelayn smiled at him.
HER EVER-PRESENT GUARDS HOVERED JUST OUT OF sight, but Evelayn could still feel their presence as she walked down the path toward the lake. Late-afternoon sun dappled the lush forest floor, turning it emerald and golden. Flowers bloomed in riotous bursts of color—a splash of fuchsia there, a broad stroke of burnished gold here, bright blots of blue and purple to her left and right. Even in the shade it was sweltering, but Evelayn welcomed the heat, knowing it meant life and power for her people. All too soon summer would fade and winter would be upon them, which meant the Dark Draíolon’s height of power.
This opportunity to possibly end the war during the week of the summer solstice was providence—it could only be fated to succeed.
That’s what she kept telling herself, anyway.
Soon the forest thinned, and the glint of sunlight reflecting off water flashed through the foliage. Once, coming here had brought her peace and comfort. But the looming confrontation with Bain and her inability to shift had stolen even that from her. Long before she caught sight of the flock, the constant tension that tightened the muscles in Evelayn’s neck and twisted her stomach into such knots she could barely eat or sleep grew even worse.
As she stepped out of the trees into the sunlight, she reached into her skirt for the satchel she’d tied around her waist. Inside were broken bits of leftover bread from this morning’s breakfast. She grabbed a handful, and as she took her seat on her usual log, she tossed the bread to the swans who were already swimming toward her.
“Hello, my beautiful friends,” Evelayn whispered as the birds began to snatch up the pieces of bread, extending their long, graceful necks forward.
She’d always been fascinated by the swans and had been coming to feed them since she was a little girl holding tightly to her father’s hand as he guided her down the path. It had been no surprise to anyone when she imprinted on them on her eighth birthday. So why had she been unable to complete the transformation into a swan since gaining her full power? Kel assured her she would figure it out with practice and time. But she didn’t have time, as Teca was fond of reminding her. She only had days left. Days before Bain would come and she had to be able to transform and fly out of the trap a split second before he ran into it or rely on the plan Tanvir had come up with instead.
There was no one to help her. Only royals imprinted on animals and had the ability to shift into one when they reached their full power, and with her mother’s death, there was no one left to ask for help. She had only Kel and Teca’s attempts to explain how it worked in theory, rather than in practice, and her own bumbling failures each day.
The swans finished off the last of the bread and began to slowly swim away, lazily paddling through the still water. Her mind turned—as it always did—to the oncoming ambush on summer solstice. If Caedmon’s timetable held true, any minute now her scouts would be bringing her word that Bain’s army was on the move—if Bain wished to arrive across from Ristra by sunrise of the following day to draw her battalions out, as they’d been told to expect. The waiting was horrific. Every inch of her body hummed with the need to flee or fight, with no outlet except her training exercises with Kel.
When she wasn’t at the lake, they went over the plan again and again, hounding out every contingency, trying to prepare her for every possibility. In the end, no matter how much planning they did and how much everyone tried to help give her the opportunity, it came down to Evelayn killing Bain.
Her troubled thoughts were interrupted by the sound of someone approaching.
“I thought I’d find you here.”
Evelayn turned to see Tanvir emerge from the forest, the shadows of the Light Sentries and two priestesses sent to guard her visible just beyond him in the tree line.
“There aren’t many other places I would be.” She tried to keep the bitterness out of her voice, with little success.
“It will be over soon.” Tanvir stopped beside the log. “May I sit beside you?”
Evelayn nodded without speaking, staring out at the swans as they carved lines through the bright sunlight on the surface of the water. He stepped over the log and sat next to her, his presence filling up much more than just the space of his body, making her all too aware of the inches between his hip and hers, his legs and hers.
“Why are you doing all of this? Is it because of what you said? Why did you come find me today?” Evelayn suddenly asked, tired of pretense, tired of waiting and wondering. This—whatever was building between her and Tanvir—at least she could pin down. She could examine and try to understand it.
“Why, to enjoy the pleasant conversation, of course,” Tanvir teased but Evelayn just glared at him, and the smile on his face died. “What do you mean?”
“Did you notice me before … before all this?” She gestured to the diadem that she had to wear from morning until night, and all that it symbolized and encompassed. “I know you said that you … in the forest that day … that you … But I can’t help but wonder. Has someone been pressuring you to try and create a connection with me?”
Tanvir’s eyes widened, and if Evelayn’s emotions weren’t drawn so taut, she might have laughed. “Pressured me? To … to …”
“Because they are pressuring me,” Evelayn interrupted his unusual stuttering. Perhaps it wasn’t what she’d assumed after all then, based on his embarrassment. Or maybe he was just that good. “It’s not as if there is a massive battle looming ahead of us, or a fight that I’m terrified I won’t win to worry about. I’ve already been lectured three times this week alone on the fact that even though I am so very young, and it is extremely rare for any Draíolon to choose to be Bound to someone at my age, that as queen I have a duty to provide an heir as soon as possible. That I must procreate as quickly as I’m able, to ensure the royal line carries on, since there is no one else if something happens to me. And you seem to be a nice option, if I were the type to try and orchestrate this kind of thing.”
“A nice option?” Tanvir echoed.
“Good family, attractive, strong abilities. Orphaned by the war, so that we have something in common to connect over.”
“I’m glad to hear you think I’m attractive …”
Evelayn barely withheld a snort. “You know you are. So who was it? Kel? He let you come to get the silk so we’d have time alone—right? And he’s championing your plan. Is he the one?”
Tanvir cleared his throat, and glanced over his shoulder, reminding her that they had an audience. “Um, Evelayn … I’m not sure now is …”
She just waited until he shifted uncomfortably on the log.
“But then again, no time like the present to have very important conversations. With an audience.” Tanvir gave her a pointed look, but she just glared back. “Look, Ev, I promise you, no one has spoken to me about trying to orchestrate a, um, connection between us. And no one has mentioned the need for you to … uh … procreate on an accelerated schedule to me either. I know you are young, which is why I haven’t made my overtures any bolder than they have been. But I assure you that the interest I admit to having in you is purely selfish. Because I also find you to be attracti
ve—in every way possible. Your mind, your strength, your will, and everything else, too. When I said I loved you, I was the only one saying it. Because I meant it.”
Evelayn stared at Tanvir. “Oh.”
Tanvir shrugged, his expression a comical mixture of contrition and alarm.
“Oh,” Evelayn said again, her eyes widening this time, flushing hot with embarrassment. “I’m so sorry. I assumed and I … oh my. This is …” She trailed off and turned away, before he could see the heat rising in her cheeks.
“Please don’t,” Tanvir said, his voice quiet. “I know you’re under immense amounts of pressure, and you have every right to be suspicious of everything and everyone. I picked a terrible time to try to … well, you know.”
“Create a connection with me?” Evelayn quoted herself, miserably horrified at the accusations she’d made so heedlessly. And after he’d told her he loved her, too. She really was quite adept at making a mess of everything.
“Something like that.” Tanvir sounded amused, not angry, and she braved a peek over her shoulder at him. His smile was like the sunshine breaking through a dreary winter morning.
“You’re not mad at me for questioning you so … bluntly? For … for doubting you?”
“Of course not,” Tanvir immediately responded. “Now I know you find me attractive. That is far more important than knowing if you love me back or not.”
Evelayn found herself laughing, something she hadn’t done much of since her mother’s death. It was an unexpected gift. Before she could stop herself, she bent forward and pressed her lips to his. He stiffened in shock but immediately softened, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her in to his body. Tanvir’s mouth was soft on hers, an unspoken promise of what was to come.
If they survived the summer solstice.
She broke away reluctantly, but Tanvir kept his arms around her, holding her silently as they watched the swans glide across the glassy water.
After a few minutes, Evelayn finally sat up straight, and Tanvir let her go.
“When this is over … when you succeed … may I formally call on you, Evelayn?” Tanvir glanced down at his hands and Evelayn felt something inside her drawing out, wishing to pull his gaze back up to hers.
“Are you asking to court me, Lord Tanvir?”
“I believe I am, Your Majesty.”
Evelayn reached out and touched his hand hesitantly. He looked up, his amber eyes sending a thrill through her veins.
“Yes, you may call on me. If I live to see that day come.”
Tanvir turned his hand over so that his fingers slid between hers, sending a wave of warmth up her arm. “You will.”
“Do you think I’ve made the right decision—to trust Caedmon?”
“I do.” Tanvir squeezed her hand. “And I will be there beside you. If he plays us false, I will carve his heart out myself.”
“If he plays us false, we will all be as good as dead.”
Tanvir shook his head, squeezing her hand even tighter. “You can do this, my queen. Take all the pain, all the rage and hurt, and channel it. Use the power you have access to and kill Bain. No matter what game any of the Dark Draíolon may or may not be playing, you can succeed. I believe in you, Evelayn.”
She squeezed back, her gaze on their entwined fingers. She wanted to see where this led … what it would feel like to be courted. She wanted to live in a world where she had to plan festivals and celebrations, instead of battles.
“I hope you haven’t misplaced that belief,” she said to their hands.
“I haven’t.”
Evelayn looked out at the swans, now far away, across the lake, and let herself hope.
THE FIRST COURSE OF FRESH, SLICED FRUITS DRIZZLED with a deliciously sweet sauce, and warm, crusty bread, had only been on the table for a few minutes when the doors at the end of the dining hall burst open. All eyes turned to the male who rushed toward the queen with a note clutched in his hand.
“Word from Ristra, Your Majesty,” he said breathlessly.
Ceren watched in trepidation as Evelayn stood and took the missive. The little bit of color she’d regained in her cheeks the last few days drained out again as she dismissed the runner.
The parchment crinkling as she opened the letter was the only sound in the room; everyone’s focus was riveted on the queen.
Finally, Evelayn looked up, her eyes going to Tanvir’s first, then to Ceren, then to the table as a whole. “Bain’s army is on the move toward Ristra and brings a force larger than he ever has before. Our battalions require immediate assistance.” The note crumpled in Evelayn’s fist.
Even though Ceren knew this moment would come, knew that it would happen at any hour, dread still coated her body like ice and made the little bit of food she’d eaten turn to lead in her belly.
“General Kel, please convene my council at once.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” He nodded, then pushed his chair back to stand and hurry out of the room, other members of her council who had been at the meal following quickly in his wake.
Evelayn straightened to her full height and looked over those who remained, including Ceren and Quinlen at her side.
“Do not fear what is to come. I will protect my people and my kingdom. Bain will not succeed.” The words were a ferocious growl, a promise that was so convincing even Ceren felt her own terror ebbing slightly, though she knew the challenge that lay ahead for Evelayn.
“May the Light be with you all,” she said, and then inclined her head to her subjects seated at the table.
“May the Light be with you,” was repeated back multiple times as she strode out of the room to meet with her council and put her plan into action at last.
Quinlen took Ceren’s hand and laced his fingers through hers beneath the table, holding on to her just as tightly as she held on to him.
“May the Light be with you,” she whispered thickly when the door had shut, taking Evelayn away from her sight, “and bring you safely back to us.”
There was no breeze, no movement to the air whatsoever. The heat swelled up from the ground and pressed down from above, creating a suffocating morass of humidity. Lorcan truly hated summer. It was too hot, but even more than the heat, he hated feeling that slight loss of power that tilted in favor of the Light Kingdom during spring and summer. His father believed that by defeating Queen Evelayn and claiming the Light Kingdom’s power for himself, he could put an end to the shifting balance of power and keep it all for himself, year-round.
And though it had seemed far away, so very far away, when this war started a decade ago—when Lorcan was still a youngling—it was now so very, very close. All their plans were close. They moved silently through the forest. And though he didn’t care for Éadrolan or the heat of summer, Lorcan couldn’t help but be grateful to at least be free from the unnatural grayness of the Undead Forest. He hoped never to go back to the accursed place.
They were a silent group moving through the trees toward the appointed place. His father, King Bain, was behind him, as was Lothar. The two priests he’d brought were in front of the princes. Always, even with a limited number of defenders, the king wished to be the most protected. Even more than his own sons. Caedmon was in the lead, guiding them through the path he’d discovered when he’d been sent to scout out Éadrolan for this ambush. The other two generals brought up the rear, protecting the king’s back—just in case.
If what Caedmon had told them held true, they were getting very close to where the army would be traveling through the forest to defend Éadrolan from the decoy attack on Ristra. Then it only remained to get into position to spot the queen, fall in behind her, and kill her—finishing Bain’s plan and sealing the Light Kingdom’s fate once and for all.
Caedmon made a signal from ahead and they all paused. When Lorcan held his breath, he could just hear the muted sound of horses and people moving through the forest in front of them. Caedmon had led them truly and now was their chance. A rush of adrenaline spiked
through Lorcan’s body as Caedmon gestured again. They stalked forward to fan out and take their positions, the prince’s father staying back with the two priests until the queen had been spotted. Lorcan itched to change into his other form—it would be so easy to take to the sky and find her. But he was also vulnerable as a bird and could alert the army to their presence. Most Draíolon knew what animal forms the royals could take, and hawks weren’t as plentiful in Éadrolan as they were in Dorjhalon.
Instead, he slipped from tree to tree, just behind Caedmon, the sound of the Light Kingdom’s army moving through the forest growing louder and louder. Finally, Caedmon lifted his fist and they all halted. Squinting, Lorcan could just make out the marching figures of the Éadrolanian soldiers. Females and males dressed in the colors of the forest, with weapons strapped to their bodies, moved quickly forward. They weren’t marching at full speed, most likely trying to conserve energy for the battle ahead, so he could see their faces briefly before they moved past him. The commanders were on horses, guiding their troops toward their inevitable defeat.
All their plans were about to come to fruition—all of them. Lorcan couldn’t let himself think too much about it, afraid his feelings or scent would give him away. Hopefully his father attributed it to being excited and nervous about completing the plan to kill Queen Evelayn.
And then he saw her. The queen.
She was surrounded by priestesses (so she’d decided to be a bit more cautious than her mother, he noted), and they were all riding white mares. All of the women’s faces were veiled, just as Caedmon had said they would be. When he’d scouted out the palace and tried to discover what routes the army frequented, he’d caught sight of her, and he’d told them she’d been wearing a mourning veil, as were all of her priestesses. Caedmon hadn’t been sure if it was an attempt to keep her true features from being readily identified, or if it was just her unique form of mourning. Lorcan had to suppress the urge to attack at that very moment—but he knew better. Only his father had enough power to kill her. And only she had enough power to kill his father. If he alerted her to their presence too soon …