Even though Tanvir had offered to help support Kel, he’d refused, choosing to limp in silent pain all day through the forest toward the rendezvous point. Evelayn was relieved to see signs that Ceren was still waiting for them as they hurried as quickly as they were able, despite their being much later than planned.
It was all part of the ruse; none of her subjects had seen her leave with Ceren, they’d only been told that’s where the queen had disappeared to. But they would all see her coming back with her dearest friend, her two trusted advisors and guards in attendance—if things went as planned.
They were halfway across the overgrown gardens when the side door banged open and Ceren burst out with a relieved, “Oh, thank the Light, I’d thought you’d all died!”
Even though she was being perfectly sincere, for some reason her exclamation made Evelayn burst out laughing. And once she started, she couldn’t stop. Ceren’s eyes widened in surprise, but when Evelayn doubled over, clutching her stomach, she heard Ceren ask, “Is she … all right?”
“I’m not sure,” was Tanvir’s baffled response.
It wasn’t funny, not in the least bit. None of them had died, and she had secured the silk, but it had come at an unknown cost—even beyond Kel’s leg. Perhaps she was finally snapping under the strain of all she’d suffered and tried to accomplish in such a short time. And there was still so much to do—so much at stake. With that sobering thought, Evelayn finally straightened and managed to subdue her inexplicable hysteria. “I’m sorry.” An uncommon heat suffused her neck and cheeks. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
“It’s been a … rough few days,” Tanvir said, eyeing her with concern.
“You must be exhausted. Come in and I’ll find you something to eat and then you can rest. It’s too late to leave tonight.” Ceren took Evelayn’s arm, weaving her own through it, and guided Evelayn back to her home.
They ate a quick dinner of sliced fruits and sweet breads that Ceren had prepared for them—just in case—and then Evelayn quickly excused herself to go find a bed and attempt to get some sleep.
The next morning, after a night of tossing and turning, and waking up sweat-drenched from nightmares, Evelayn quickly washed and dressed in the gown Ceren had brought specifically for their return, to make it look like she truly had been convalescing at her friend’s home to mourn her mother’s death. As she pulled the periwinkle-blue, tissue-thin sleeves up her arms, Evelayn caught sight of her reflection in the mirror and winced. Dark bruises rimmed her eyes, and her skin looked ashen. She was visibly exhausted and worn down. Not a very convincing look for someone who had supposedly been resting for as many days as she’d been gone.
If only she truly had come here to rest and mourn. By the Light, she certainly needed that time, that chance to heal. But there was no such luxury available to her—not until she defeated Bain and somehow restored peace to Lachalonia.
A knock at the door startled her, but she quickly called out, “Who is it?”
“Ceren, silly. Were you expecting someone else?” The door opened as she spoke and Ceren came in, shooting her a pointed look.
“Of course not. I’m glad you came—could you help me? It would seem I have yet to master the ability to twist my arms in such a way as to lace up my own gown.”
Ceren laughed as she walked over to her. “They make your dresses impossible on purpose, so that you must be reliant upon a lady’s maid to help you—and keep an eye on you.” Her friend winked at her in the mirror as she pulled the ribbon tight so that the dress no longer gaped in front.
“You’re probably right.”
“I’m always right,” Ceren corrected her. “Which is why you’re not going to lie to me when I ask you what’s wrong. Because I know something is bothering you.”
Evelayn’s empty belly clenched, and she struggled to keep her expression neutral. Of course Ceren would guess something was wrong; she knew Evelayn far too well. But she couldn’t burden her friend with the worry that pressed in on her, the fear that she had made a terrible mistake giving Máthair Damhán an unknown favor.
“Tanvir told me he loved me,” she blurted out, when Ceren lifted an eyebrow, her eyes narrowing.
“What? Oh my—that’s wonderful news. Why would you be upset about that?” Ceren’s mouth formed an O and then she rushed on. “Oh dear, do you not feel the same? I thought you were forming some very strong feelings for him, but maybe I was—”
“No,” Evelayn cut her off. “That’s not it. I do … I love him. And I even told him that I did. But …”
“But …” Ceren prompted her.
“He didn’t seem happy about it when he told me. If anything, he seemed upset.” Evelayn turned to face her friend.
“That is … unusual. Did he say anything else that might help you understand why?”
Evelayn shook her head. “I’m not sure. This is going to sound terribly conceited, but sometimes it seems as though he doesn’t think himself … worthy of my affections.”
“That’s not conceited, it’s stating facts. You are the queen, Ev. And I’m sure that intimidates him. At least you know he’s not pursuing you because you are the queen. Otherwise, he would have no such qualms about professing his feelings.”
“That’s true …”
“You will just have to show him that he is worthy of you—and that you wish for him to be Bound to you!”
Evelayn choked on a shocked laugh. “Ceren! I never said that.”
“When was the last time you told a male that you loved him—besides your father?”
Evelayn winced. “Well … never, but—”
“He’s the one for you, Ev. I can see it in the way you look at each other.” Ceren suddenly embraced her. “Oh, I’m so happy for you.”
“Me too,” Evelayn echoed, though her mind was only half on Ceren. Did she wish to be Bound to Tanvir? Was he truly “the one” as Ceren insisted?
“All right,” she finally said, disentangling herself. “Enough of that. We don’t have time to worry about love and being Bound right now. We have to make our grand return to the castle, and then I have to put an end to this war. If we survive that, then I’ll let myself think about … everything else.”
“Always so practical,” Ceren grumbled, and Evelayn shook her head as she bent to put on her slippers. “I’ll go make sure the carriages are prepared. I sent out notes over an hour ago, so they should be here by now.”
“Thank you,” Evelayn called out as Ceren opened the door. She waved her hand in acknowledgment and then Evelayn was alone once more.
King Tanvir. If they were Bound, that’s what he would become.
Evelayn glared at her reflection in the mirror. “Stay focused,” she scolded herself. And then she turned and gathered up her belongings, including the spider silk hidden beneath the clothes she’d worn during their trek through Dorjhalon.
It was time to return home, to whatever fate lay ahead.
WE SHOULD PROBABLY RETURN TO THE CASTLE SOON.”
“Just one more time before the sun sets,” Evelayn called back.
Ceren sighed and resumed pacing outside the copse of trees, waiting for the blistering heat after Evelayn called a beam of sunlight down into the small clearing again. Ever since they’d returned to the castle, Evelayn had grown increasingly agitated, and spent nearly all her waking hours attempting to shift or practicing using her power. Ceren understood what was at stake and that the brunt of it fell on Evelayn’s shoulders, but she worried about how hard her friend was driving herself. Today she’d been at it for hours while Ceren kept watch, wondering how Evelayn hadn’t completely drained herself from the effort of drawing upon such powerful magic over and over again.
The now-familiar roar and scorching heat of sunlight crashing into the earth filled the air once more. It lasted for a few moments and then in the blink of an eye was gone again, leaving behind only the acrid scent of ozone and burned earth.
A minute later, Evelayn finally emerged fro
m the copse of trees and Ceren gasped.
“Ev! What did you do to yourself?”
“I’m fine.” She waved Ceren off, but then stumbled and nearly fell. Her face was soot-stained, her skin pale and sweaty, but when Ceren grabbed her arm, she was as cold as ice.
“You’re not fine. We need to get you inside and call a healer.” Ceren whistled, a signal to the sentries who waited even farther off to come to her aid if necessary.
“I said I’m fine,” Evelayn repeated, yanking her arm out of Ceren’s grasp. She stumbled again, but this time Ceren stood frozen, Evelayn’s anger still stinging in her ears.
“I was only trying to help,” she said softly.
“Well stop. You can’t help. Are you going to face Bain with me? Are you going to hold my hand if I fail, and watch as he cuts me down and takes our power for good?” Two bright spots of color burned in Evelayn’s otherwise alabaster cheeks.
Ceren shook her head. “I’m sorry, Ev. I’m sorry this has fallen to you.”
Evelayn stared at her for a long moment, her eyes glistening in the amber light of dusk. Then she shook away the emotion and stalked forward toward the castle grounds and her sentries who stood in a row a few lengths away.
Ceren waited until they’d gone before slowly following, picking her way through the graveled walkways that wound through the gardens. The evening air was heavy with the perfume of hundreds and hundreds of beautiful flowers in full bloom. Summer solstice was only a week away—only seven days until Bain attacked.
“Pardon the interruption, Lady Ceren. But would you mind very much having some company?”
She turned to see Lord Quinlen standing a little way off, watching her. “I’d like that,” she finally responded, even though there was a part of her that actually longed to be alone.
He stepped forward and offered his arm. They walked silently for a few minutes, the only sound that of the crunch of gravel beneath his boots, watching the sky turn from blue to fire to molten gold and then slowly drift into darkness.
“I’m sorry,” Ceren said at last. “I’m afraid I’m not very good company tonight.”
“You are the best of company no matter your mood,” Quinlen responded. “If you wish to talk about whatever is weighing so heavily on you, I am here for you. But if you prefer to keep it private, I am not averse to silence.”
Ceren half laughed, half sighed. She couldn’t tell him everything—she shouldn’t even know everything, but Evelayn had confided in her. The dangerous plan their queen had concocted was only known to a select few, and though Quinlen’s father was one of them, Ceren didn’t dare risk talking freely about it with Quinlen unless he gave her definitive proof that he already knew what Evelayn was going to attempt to do next week.
“Silence it is, then.” Quinlen glanced up at the castle, where the windows glowed with candlelight, and the shapes of those moving within became distorted shadows undulating across the castle grounds.
“I wish I could speak freely,” Ceren said quietly. “But I can tell you this much. The queen hasn’t been herself since …”
“Her visit to your country home?” he supplied when she trailed off. She thought she detected a note of irony and wondered if he did know the truth of what Evelayn had been doing during that week when the court had been told she’d retired to the country with Ceren. His father was on Evelayn’s council …
“Yes, exactly,” was all she said though, still afraid to reveal more. “She’s been … on edge. Pushing herself too hard. Testy, even.” Ceren cringed even as the words came out. It hurt her feelings that Evelayn had been so short with her earlier that evening, but she couldn’t blame her—and Ceren was appalled to find herself complaining about her dearest friend to her only other friend at court.
“She’s under an enormous amount of pressure and doesn’t dare reveal any sign of weakness to her court,” Quinlen said slowly, in that careful way of his. “You are her closest friend and though it stings, perhaps the very fact that she has been testy with you is a testament to her trust and affection. She only dares show a glimpse of what she’s truly experiencing to you and none else.”
Ceren was silent for a long moment, digesting what he’d said. Then she came to an abrupt halt. “You’re right. Thank you, Quinlen.” And before she could second-guess herself, she rose up on her toes to press a quick kiss to his cheek. “Please excuse me! I must go find her!” Then she turned and rushed back to the castle.
She glanced over her shoulder to see him bowing, a smile on his lips and three fingertips pressed to the cheek where she’d kissed him.
Evelayn was lying on her bed, still fully clothed, trying to ignore the incessant pounding behind her skull, when there was a soft knock at the door. She recognized Ceren’s scent even before she cracked it open and meekly asked, “Can I come in?”
“Of course.” Even those two words made the headache worse, and she squeezed her eyes shut.
“Oh, Ev. Why didn’t you tell me it was this bad?”
She just shook her head and then winced when the pain escalated again.
“Let me call for Tyne, she can—”
“No,” Evelayn burst out, despite how much it hurt. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “You were right. Everyone is watching me. I can’t risk her telling anyone that I … That I am …”
“You are not weak, so don’t you dare say it,” Ceren cut her off. “But I understand. I won’t call for her.”
“I just need to sleep for a little bit. It’ll go away.”
“Can I get you a cool cloth or anything to help?”
“No.” Evelayn opened her eyes to see Ceren hovering nearby, her forehead creased with concern. “But thank you.”
Ceren nodded, and Evelayn shut her eyes again. Even the smallest bit of light made it worse—to the point she thought she might vomit.
“I know you’re under so much pressure, and I want you to know that I’m always here for you. You don’t have to hide what you’re going through from me.”
Evelayn nodded, not daring to speak. Her throat tightened as tears threatened to surface. Even after how cruel Evelayn had been when she’d snapped at her earlier, Ceren was nothing but kind to her. Kindness she was pretty certain she didn’t deserve.
“I know you can do this, Ev. You don’t have to push yourself quite so hard.”
Evelayn swallowed a sob and blindly reached out until Ceren grabbed her hand and squeezed it tightly. “I wish I had a choice. I truly wish I did.”
“You always have a choice. Even if it feels like you don’t.”
Maybe for any other Draíolon except the queen, Evelayn thought. But rather than speaking again, she just held on to Ceren’s hand and nodded.
“You must learn to shift. How else will you be able to avoid becoming entrapped in the spider silk yourself?”
Evelayn sat silently at the head of the table, pale and drawn. Dark bruises turned the delicate skin beneath her eyes a deep purple. Tanvir had barely been able to speak with her since they’d returned to the castle, let alone steal a moment or two alone. Watching her now sent a spike of fear through him. He knew the strength that ran through her, he knew the determination that drove her … but she looked so fragile as High Priestess Teca lectured her yet again.
“I assure you that I am trying. I spend hours every day attempting to shift. It’s not as simple as you seem to think.” Evelayn’s gaze flickered to his but quickly dodged away again to the others at the table.
“You have mastered calling down the beam of sun. From now on you must spend all of your waking hours learning how to shift. I don’t know how else you will be able to lead him into the trap without ensnaring yourself in the process.” The High Priestess spoke in such a severe tone, Tanvir expected Evelayn to snap back at her, but instead the queen just nodded morosely, allowing herself to be ordered about. “I will return to the Dawn Temple and continue searching our scrolls and texts to see if I can find anything else on the subject. If you’ll excuse me.” Teca
stood and exited the room swiftly, leaving a heavy silence in her wake.
“Perhaps … if you suddenly veered to the side, he might still run into the web?” Lord Teslar offered weakly, in an uncharacteristic sign of pity for the queen.
“I appreciate the thought, but you and I both know that wouldn’t be possible. I’m going to be running as fast as I’m able and to change course like that so suddenly would be an unmistakable giveaway.” Evelayn reached up to pinch the bridge of her nose. “Even if I am able to master shifting in time, I would have to be able to do it in the blink of an eye if I want to be fast enough to avoid the web.” Evelayn didn’t look up from the table, and though her posture was still ramrod straight, there was a sense of defeat that hung about her like a second shadow, weighing her down.
Tanvir couldn’t bear it.
“Maybe we can help somehow,” he spoke up without even truly knowing what he was offering or how it would affect the outcome. “I know you were concerned about him scenting a trap if other Draíolon are nearby, but if you are running that fast maybe some of the most powerful priestesses could glamour Kel and me. We could be waiting in the trees with the web. Evelayn, you just make sure you’re far enough ahead of him that you are clear before we drop the web and trap him. It would give you the chance to turn and call down the sun. And you wouldn’t have to lose time shifting back.” As he spoke the idea took form and solidified into what actually sounded like a plausible possibility. It wasn’t sticking to the plan, but if the end result was that Bain was killed, did it matter?
Evelayn met his gaze directly for the first time in days, the rebirth of hope in her eyes practically making them glow. “That … that just might work.”
“As a backup plan, if you aren’t able to master shifting,” General Olena cut in.
General Kelwyn was watching Evelayn, his eyes slightly narrowed in consideration. “No, I think Tanvir might be onto something.”