Dark Breaks the Dawn

by Sara B. Larson

  “I couldn’t sleep,” he said simply. “And I thought perhaps you, too, would find this to be a difficult night to rest.”

  “So you hunted me down.”

  Tanvir grimaced this time. “I wouldn’t call it hunting you. But I was walking the hallways and did hear some sentries talking as they switched shifts. They seemed concerned that you were up here alone. I told them I would come check on you.”

  “My personal Light Sentries are standing guard at the base of the stairs. I’m not in any danger from attack.” Which wasn’t true, because if any Dark Draíolon made it to the castle before she succeeded in regaining her kingdom’s power, they would all be slaughtered.

  “I’m not sure that’s what they were concerned about tonight.”

  Evelayn’s eyes widened as she thought of how far from the ground she was where she stood on one of the many turrets that soared above the castle. “They think I would … that I could possibly—”

  “No!” Tanvir burst out, cutting her off. “By the Light, no. I only meant that they wanted to make sure you weren’t overcome by your grief, all alone up here. Your people care for you. They’re worried.”

  “Oh.”

  “Though that does bring up a good point. You are very exposed out here. If Lorcan assumed his bird form he could kill you before you even knew what had happened.”

  Evelayn turned away, back to the wall that separated her from a fall that would spell certain death. He was right. But she couldn’t bear to face her room yet.

  “If you insist on staying up here, may I join you?”

  Evelayn shrugged.

  He was silent as he drew up beside her, leaning forward to rest his forearms on the top of the bricks. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye to see him staring down at his hands. Tension limned the lines of his body, making the muscles of his back and shoulders bunch.

  “Why couldn’t you sleep?” she finally asked.

  He took a moment to respond, and when he did speak, his voice was soft. “Because I know what it’s like.”

  Tanvir turned to look at her, a world of pain and grief darkening his amber eyes to burnt gold. She swallowed hard and tore her gaze from his to stare out into the darkness. She felt more than saw him straighten. When he took her shoulders in his hands and gently turned her to face him, she didn’t resist, even though she was afraid of losing her hard-fought control. She clenched her jaw as her eyes met his in the darkness, her sharpened eyesight allowing her to see him perfectly. He stood close enough that she could feel the heat from his body.

  “Your Majesty—”

  “Are we back to titles, then?”

  “Evelayn,” he amended, his fingers tightening slightly on her shoulders, “you can’t hold it in like this forever. This morning I watched you lock away the pain and do what you felt was necessary to help your people. And I admire your strength of will,” he continued when she tried to cut in. “But you must know, it’s all right to cry. It’s all right to mourn.”

  She shook her head, even as her eyes began to burn again. “I can’t,” she whispered.

  They were silent for a long moment, staring at each other. And then Tanvir hesitantly lifted one hand, slowly moving it toward her face, watching her the whole time to see if she protested. When she didn’t, he tenderly tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers brushing against her cheek. Evelayn shivered again, but this time, it wasn’t from the cold.

  She didn’t miss the way his gaze flickered down to her lips and then quickly back up to her eyes. Something deep inside her belly tightened as a wash of heat cascaded through her. What was wrong with her? How could she possibly be feeling this right now, when her mother’s death was so raw, the pressure of what she had to accomplish to save her kingdom bearing down so heavily on her?

  But the rebellious part of her—the part she worked hard to ignore, to push away, to run out of existence—wondered what would it be like to kiss him? Would she be able to lose herself in his touch, to bury her grief in something else, something she could barely understand other than as a need to step closer, to erase the space between them?

  He wanted her. She understood that now—she finally recognized that scent for what it was. Which meant he knew she did, too. But did she dare?

  His fingers still rested against her throat, just below her ear, but he hadn’t moved, had barely even breathed as her thoughts tumbled recklessly through should I or shouldn’t I. She swallowed and then took a small step forward, so that mere inches separated them. He was only a bit taller than she, so their eyes—and mouths—were almost on the same level. He searched her face, a muscle in his jaw ticking. He pushed his hand farther back, plunging his fingers into her hair, curling them around the back of her head. Her heart was a drum, thudding against her ribs. Her senses fired in every way possible—she was surrounded by him. Tanvir’s scent, his touch, his gaze, the heat from his body. And suddenly, her grief felt far, far away.

  Yes, I do want this, she thought, willing him to understand. It’s working. It’s working.

  And still he hesitated.

  They were so close, it barely took any movement to lift her hands to his hips, to clutch his tunic, pulling him closer and then flattening them against his muscled stomach. He groaned, a deep, low growl in his throat.

  “Evelayn.” Her name was a throaty plea. “I don’t want to do anything you’ll regret in the morning.”

  “I won’t,” she whispered. Evelayn could almost feel his lips brushing hers as they spoke. His breath was warm on her face.

  “You don’t know what you’re doing right now. You’ve had a terrible shock.”

  “I’m not in shock.” Which wasn’t necessarily true, but it didn’t matter. “By the Light, Tanvir, I’m a queen now. Not some youngling who doesn’t know her own mind.”

  He closed his eyes and lifted his face to the sky, taking a deep breath. “I want to, Ev. You know I do.”

  “Then do it. It would be unbearably humiliating if I had to command you to give me my first kiss.”

  He made a noise almost like a laugh except it was a barren, hopeless sound, his gaze dropping to hers once more. “Your first kiss? Oh, Ev. It can’t be like this. It can’t be tied to losing your mother. You will regret it. I promise you would. Maybe not tonight, or tomorrow, but eventually you would resent me for allowing it to happen now. And I can’t stand having anything else for you to hold against me.”

  Evelayn dropped her head and backed up, the blissful heat and desire ebbing out of her, leaving her cold and broken once more. Except for the warmth in her cheeks, where her embarrassment burned. “I don’t understand what you’re talking about. I don’t hold anything against you—I wouldn’t have held this against you, either.”

  “That’s a relief to hear, especially after this morning. But I promise, there would come a day when you would have looked back and been angry that I kissed you the night your mother died.”

  Evelayn turned away from him, wrapping her arms around herself once more. “Stop assuming that you know me so well.”

  “Ev. Look at me.”

  She felt him come up behind her, but he didn’t touch her.

  “The last thing I wanted was to make things worse. You have to know that I care about you. That I … I …” He broke off, and she stiffened. “I don’t know what’s right anymore. I don’t know what to do.”

  Tanvir sounded so forlorn, so upset, that Evelayn relented and turned to face him.

  “If you truly cared for me, you would have known I needed you to be here for me tonight.”

  Tanvir looked miserable but he didn’t argue with her. Instead he dropped his gaze to the ground that separated them.

  They were silent for a few moments, the tension building and building until it seemed a wall stood between them that she didn’t know how to break down. Finally, she said, “You should go.”

  His eyes met hers once more, pleading. “Please don’t do this.”

  Though she still longed
for his touch, Evelayn made herself stand up straighter, forced the mask she wore during the day into place. “I just need to be alone.”

  He studied her for a long moment, until her heart began to race once again, but he finally nodded. “If that’s your wish, Your Majesty.”

  The use of her new title stung, yet she refused to let him see that.

  He headed for the stairs, then paused. Evelayn stiffened, unaccountably nervous. What more was there to say?

  Tanvir turned to gaze at her, his face full of unmasked grief. “I do care for you, Evelayn. I fear that I care for you far more deeply than is good for either of us. I hope that you will soon be grateful for my control this night. If I lose you, too, it would be unbearable. Your friendship has meant the world to me … in a world where I had little reason to feel anything other than remorse or pain. Regardless of the outcome of this night, I want to thank you for that. And tell you how very sorry I am.”

  Evelayn blinked, unsure if she’d truly seen a sheen of moisture in his eyes. But then he turned and was gone, leaving her chilled and alone, with nothing but the wind to keep her company.

  EVEN THOUGH THEY WERE WHISPERED, EVELAYN STILL heard the murmurs as she slowly moved down the aisle toward the marble table where her mother’s body lay, shrouded by a white sheet. Hundreds of Light Draíolon had packed into the Great Hall for the funeral—and, apparently, to see the new queen.

  “She only turned eighteen a few weeks ago, how can she possibly succeed when both of her parents failed?”

  “She’s too young and her power isn’t controlled yet. King Bain will rule both Dorjhalon and Éadrolan in weeks, mark my words.”

  Evelayn pretended not to hear them, determinedly staring ahead, avoiding the white sheet. All there was to see was the outline of her mother’s body, not her face or the hole in her chest where King Bain had managed to get past all her defenses and blast away her power and her life. But Evelayn had seen both last night when they’d finally rushed Queen Ilaria to the palace. It had taken two days. Two horrible, long days in which Evelayn didn’t sleep and could barely eat, pacing the palace floors and turrets, waiting … and watching. And finally, finally, they had come late the night before. The army had retreated before Bain could slaughter them all, hurrying as quickly as possible, without the aid of their power, shielded only by the Scíaths, back to the palace.

  Evelayn stood so tall that her shoulder blades were nearly pinched together beneath the elaborate white-and-gray dress she had donned for the official funeral. Though her pulse pounded a staccato of fear and anguish against her throat, Evelayn refused to let it show on her face or in her posture. She’d vowed never to cry in front of her people again after that first terrible morning on the lawn, when she’d realized what had happened. Though she’d come close to losing it that night on the turret with Tanvir, so far she’d managed to keep her vow. Evelayn was now the only living monarch in Éadrolan—and her people were watching her closely.

  But thinking of that night was a dangerous path as well, fraught with pain and humiliation, and she made herself cut the thoughts off.

  Evelayn couldn’t believe so many had gathered when the funeral had been thrown together so quickly. Because the army had barely made it back in time, she and the High Priestesses had only until this afternoon—the third day—to perform the ceremony that would transfer the Light Power to Evelayn’s conduit stone. The previous night, High Priestess Teca had explained yet again what would happen, but Evelayn had had a hard time absorbing it. She still couldn’t quite believe any of this was real and not some terrible nightmare from which she would awaken at any moment. Only the body lying at the front of the Great Hall testified to how very real the horrors of the last three days truly were.

  When she reached the front, Evelayn paused for a moment, staring down at the white sheet. Then she slowly knelt down and let her head bow forward to rest lightly against the cool marble.

  Tears burned frighteningly close to the surface, and though it was perfectly reasonable for her to cry at her mother’s funeral, Evelayn refused to show even a small amount of weakness. Only Ceren, Tanvir, and the other Draíolon on the lawn that day had been witness to her breakdown. From that moment she’d remained stoic, resolute. Even when they’d carried Queen Ilaria’s body into the palace. Even when she’d stared down at her mother’s bloodless, discolored face and known in a horrible, gut-hollowing way that never again would she hear her mother’s voice, never again would she see her smile. Evelayn had understood it in her mind, but at that moment, the reality finally reached her heart, turning her cold.

  Evelayn inhaled slowly, breathing in the thick, musky scent of the flowers that encircled the marble table. They were layered in rows, a sea of colors and smells, to cover up the faint stench of decay that had already begun to cling to the remains of the former queen. Only once she had regained complete control did Evelayn stand and turn to face the assembled Light Draíolon.

  High Priestess Teca waited off to her right, watching for Evelayn’s signal to begin the ceremony to officially lay Queen Ilaria’s body to rest eternally beside her husband, who had died ten years earlier—and to transfer the power to their daughter, the new queen of Éadrolan.

  Evelayn looked out at the sea of faces, all staring at her expectantly, some with pity and sorrow creasing their foreheads or twisting their mouths into frowns, some sitting stiffly, eyebrows lifted and arms crossed. Finally, she found Ceren’s familiar cornflower blue eyes, swimming with tears. Beside her was Lord Tanvir. He nodded slightly at Evelayn, an unspoken encouragement. She couldn’t allow herself to feel anything as their eyes met, as the horrible night on the turret crept back into her mind.

  Evelayn tore her gaze away and took a deep breath. She just had to get through this; every minute wasted was another minute closer to losing their power permanently.

  “My people,” she began, her voice echoing across the Great Hall, “we are gathered here to pay tribute to my mother, Queen Ilaria of Éadrolan. She led with wisdom and grace, and she died in valor, defending our people and our lands. Long may her name be spoken for good.”

  The crowd echoed, “Long may her name be spoken for good,” and then High Priestess Teca stepped forward, ready to begin her part of the ceremony, while Evelayn walked to the chair in the front row that had remained empty for her, surrounded by the Light Sentries now assigned to be her constant guards. They couldn’t do much until their power was restored, but they all bore Scíaths, presumably to surround her and deflect shadowflame or worse in the event of an attack. The large, silvery shields flashed in the sunlight, a vaguely comforting sight, but Evelayn wondered how long they would be able to hold off an attack if she didn’t regain their power first. It seemed as though the Scíaths would just delay the inevitable.

  She sat there for the next hour, barely hearing a word that was spoken, staring at the white shroud, willing herself to remain in control just a little bit longer. She could feel the presence of Ceren and Tanvir behind her, but she never once turned her head toward them.

  And then, finally, High Priestess Teca gestured for Evelayn to stand again.

  Evelayn slowly rose to her feet and waited as two lines of Light Sentries hurried forward and simultaneously lifted the poles on either side of Queen Ilaria, raising the mat and her body off the marble. Then they moved forward, careful to keep her body level as they marched down the aisle. Evelayn followed directly behind them, with High Priestess Teca and the rest of the priestesses after her. This was the hardest part, but at least it would also be done without the prying eyes of all those gathered. The crowd had to wait in the Great Hall while the ceremony was performed in the sacred coppice near the Dawn Temple where the previous monarchs had been buried.

  It was a relief to walk out of the palace, away from the inquisitive gazes and the weight of her people’s judgments. The sun was merciless as they crossed the manicured lawns, but soon the forest enveloped the procession in jade-tinted shade.

  They moved
quickly, knowing time was short, and within a few minutes the trees opened up into the clearing where a circle of white stones had been prepared next to the headstone marking her father’s grave. The forest was abnormally quiet as the Light Sentries carefully laid the queen’s body down in the center of the stones. One by one, they knelt around the circle and let their heads bow forward, paying one final tribute to Queen Ilaria. And then they stood and melted back into the forest, leaving only Evelayn and the priestesses.

  “Are you ready?” High Priestess Teca looked to Evelayn.

  No, her heart shouted, but Evelayn nodded.

  “Do you remember what you must do?”

  Evelayn took a deep breath and then nodded again. “Yes.” The word was a mere whisper.

  Fear threatened to consume her. Her lungs felt tight, as if she couldn’t get enough air. The priestesses had to use their combined abilities to draw the power from Queen Ilaria’s stone and join it back to Sliabán—to the Immortal Tree. Once the priestesses summoned the power back, they had to direct it to Evelayn’s conduit stone as quickly as possible, before it overwhelmed and killed them all. And then it was her turn—the final act to reclaim the Light Power for Éadrolan. Evelayn had to call down the force of the sun to consume her mother’s body. The kings of Éadrolan were buried, but the queens … they were taken back to the Light in totality, conduit stone and all. There had been no time for practicing, only a rushed explanation of what she must do.

  Hands trembling, Evelayn moved so that she was at the head of the ring of white stones. The hush of the forest was almost unnerving, as if every living thing was holding a collective breath, waiting and watching her.

  Slowly, she lifted her hands so that the gauzy sleeves of her dress fell back, exposing her forearms. The power is connected to your thoughts, to your very will, just as it always has been, Teca had told her. You must concentrate. Think of nothing else but your desire to accomplish this task and force the power to bend to your control.