Evelayn managed to hold back her sigh of frustration—barely. By the Light, she was the queen now. At what point would Rylese quit her hovering and worrying? Though it had no doubt offended her aunt sorely, there was a reason Evelayn hadn’t included her in the council meetings.
“Thank you, Aunt. We were just finishing discussing a specific point of preparation I’ve asked Lord Tanvir to oversee. He will join you at dinner shortly, I’m sure.”
“And you?” Aunt Rylese pressed.
“I will dine in my room tonight. I’m afraid I have a rather violent headache.”
“But—everyone is hoping to see you!”
“And I am deeply sorry, but I must take advantage of the meeting ending at this hour and go rest. Please send my apologies to all those gathered and assure them that we are working toward a way to guarantee peace for our kingdom again.” Guilt over not making an appearance to help calm her subjects only worsened the pounding in her head.
Aunt Rylese was apparently quite appalled at her lack of fortitude as well, for she harrumphed loudly and spun on her heel to storm out of the room, pausing only to flick her wrist at Tanvir.
“Come along then, my lord. We’ll let Her Majesty get her rest.”
When the door had shut behind them, Evelayn plunked down into the nearest chair and let her head drop forward onto her crossed arms on the table. She would wait just a moment to let them get ahead of her and then she would sneak up to her room before anyone else could waylay her.
A loud crash of thunder startled Evelayn and she jumped, only to half fall out of the chair she still sat in. Her neck and back were stiff and her right arm was entirely asleep, her hand numb. The council room was darkened, with the occasional flash of lightning illuminating the abandoned table and chairs. She was completely disoriented.
Why hadn’t anyone come looking for her, or woken her up? How long had she been asleep in the council room, with her head on the table?
Evelayn stood up, her body protesting the movement, but froze when lightning struck yet again—a blinding flash of light. The outline of the windows was burned onto her retinas, along with what had looked like a dark bird, careening wildly through the gusting wind and rains of the cloudburst. But when she blinked and squinted into the darkness, there was no sign of a bird. Had she imagined it? Or had Caedmon come through with a message after all?
It could just be a bird from the forest, she chided herself. Though it would mean that her time to figure out a plan was short, she longed to have a message arrive—to prove she hadn’t misplaced her trust.
Evelayn waited for the next flash, but when it came, there was nothing there but an empty, rain-drenched courtyard and the swaying trees beyond.
With a shake of her head, Evelayn turned and exited the room, passed the Light Sentries who waited on either side of the door, to hurry to her room, and nearly ran directly into High Priestess Teca.
“Your Majesty.” Teca seemed far less surprised to see Evelayn than Evelayn was to see her, which led her to believe the High Priestess had been standing in the hallway the entire night waiting for her to emerge. “If we might have a private word?”
Evelayn wanted nothing more than to climb into her bed and try to rest as much as possible before meeting Lord Tanvir in the morning for their run, but instead she sighed. “Of course.”
They went back into the darkened room, shutting the Light Sentries out.
“I am sure you wish to retire to your quarters, as do I, so I will make this brief and to the point,” Teca began. “You are now the queen of Éadrolan, and the only royal left with the ability to act as the conduit for the Light Power.”
“Yes …”
“Normally you would be considered far too young to broach such things, but bearing in mind the direness of our situation, there’s no avoiding the issue.”
Another flash of lightning illuminated the stern downturn of Teca’s mouth.
“I’m afraid I don’t understand.” Evelayn tried not to let her irritation bleed into her tone, but she was too drained to summon her usual mask of geniality. “What are you saying?”
“You need to be Bound and produce an heir. And quickly.”
Evelayn’s irritation flared into anger in the blink of an eye but she bit it back through sheer force of will. “Excuse me, but I don’t think it is your place—”
“It is my place, because you are the queen,” Teca cut her off. “If something happens to you before you have a daughter, there will be no one left who could reclaim our power. None of us knows what would happen to Éadrolan, Lachalonia, and even the world beyond ours if that happened.”
A sudden clap of thunder accentuated Teca’s words, rattling the windowpanes with its ferocity.
“Even if I were to be Bound tomorrow and impregnated immediately following the ceremony, I wouldn’t be able to give birth to an heir before facing Bain.” Evelayn’s voice was practically strangled from the effort of holding her anger in check.
“That may be true, but—”
“So I will ask you to allow me to focus on the problems immediately at hand,” Evelayn continued over Teca’s protest, “and refrain from adding unnecessary pressure to the situation.” Even as the words came out, she knew they made her sound like a youngling.
“You are the queen now, Evelayn. ‘Pressure’ is guaranteed to be your constant companion. You’d best find a way to deal with it, no matter how great it becomes.”
“That is quite enough.” Evelayn held one hand up, palm flattened toward Teca. “There is nothing I can do about being Bound at this moment, or about providing an heir. Our only hope is for me to focus on surviving Bain’s attack and somehow defeating him. Then I can worry about that.”
“If you don’t succeed, there won’t be anything to worry about.”
Evelayn turned on her heel and flung the door open. “Good night, High Priestess.”
Teca stiffened at the dismissal but then strode toward the Light Sentries who still stood guard in the hallway. “This discussion is not over, Your Highness.”
Evelayn waited for the older Draíolon to disappear around the corner before allowing her shoulders to sag slightly. She understood Teca’s fear, but it was too late now. Even if there were time, who would she possibly hope to be Bound to? The memory of the near-kiss on the turret with Tanvir flashed through her mind, but she quickly forced it away.
No, she told herself firmly as she finally made her way to her quarters and her bed. Do as you told Teca. Focus on the problems at hand. Focus on surviving. Because if she didn’t, Teca was right. There was no one else to reclaim the power, not even an infant who could one day grow up and travel to the Immortal Tree.
If she failed, the Light Draíolon were doomed.
EVELAYN SLEPT UNEASILY, WAKING EVERY HOUR OR SO, vacillating between nightmares and thinking she heard phantom knocks signaling that she had received a message from Caedmon. But no one came to summon her, and she reluctantly rose at dawn to put on her loose running pants and leather shoes. After quickly braiding her hair, Evelayn hurried out into the humid, gray morning. Her Light Sentries silently followed her down the stairs and into the courtyard where Lord Tanvir already waited in the mist, swinging his arms to loosen up. With Teca’s words from the night before still ringing in her mind, Evelayn had to quell sudden nerves that sprang up when Tanvir glanced over and their eyes met.
“There’s no need to accompany me.” She turned to the sentries, trying to compose herself. “Lord Tanvir will run with me this morning.”
“Your Majesty, our orders are to guard you at all times. We could lose our positions,” one of them spoke up.
“I am your queen, and I say that I shall be quite safe with Lord Tanvir’s protection. We won’t go far. We’ll merely circle the castle a few times.”
The sentry looked uneasy, but gave her a little bow. “If you insist, Your Highness.”
“I do.” Evelayn smiled to ease the severity of her tone and then turned to where Tanvir st
ood.
“Shall we?”
“After you.” He gestured for her to lead and she took off toward the trees.
The breeze was still brisk from the storm the night before, the sky dark with clouds and the air thick with mist and fog. The soggy ground sucked at their soft boots and soon they were both mud-spattered and damp, but as their feet pounded in synchronization, Evelayn finally felt as though she could breathe fully for the first time in days … maybe even longer. She hadn’t felt this calm since before the last time she’d gone running, that sun-drenched morning when her power had surged out of her body and she’d understood what had happened to her mother.
They silently dashed through the forest, a bit slower than normal because of the weather and mud, but still, she was running. Evelayn’s muscles burned from disuse and she gloried in the pain. It was a pain she could control and conquer. Unlike the jagged wound that was her mother’s death, or the pressing burden of needing to somehow defeat Bain, save her kingdom, and not leave it without an heir.
Ahead of them a dark bird swooped between two trees, reminding her of the one she thought she’d seen in the flash of lightning. Its cry echoed through the fog, taunting Evelayn. “Sneaky bugger,” she muttered. It had been silly to get her hopes up last night. Caedmon had only left a week ago. Who knew if he’d even made it back to King Bain’s castle yet.
“What did you say?” Tanvir asked from where he kept stride just behind her.
“Nothing,” Evelayn said more loudly.
“Do you mind if we rest a moment? I need a drink of water.”
Evelayn slowed down and then stopped. They had circled the castle a couple of times already, making a wide loop through the surrounding forest, staying close to the trees and avoiding Solas, to the northwest of the castle, as well. It was difficult to tell exactly where they were with the thick fog obscuring their vision in all directions, and Evelayn shivered involuntarily, her mind going back to the last time they’d run—and been attacked. With everything that had come afterward, she’d completely forgotten about the three Dark Draíolon who had found them and tried to assassinate them both. Had they come through the Undead Forest, too? Had they been part of King Bain’s plan—but failed?
“Are you cold?” Tanvir asked, holding out his flagon to her, when she shivered again.
“No.” She took a quick drink of water and handed it back. “The fog just made me nervous, considering what happened last time we went running. Maybe it was a mistake not to bring my sentries, after all.”
“We protected ourselves then, and we could do it again. But now you have a battalion patrolling the edge of the Undead Forest—no Draíolon should get through without our knowledge.”
“True,” Evelayn agreed, rolling her shoulders to relax slightly. She was overtired and overwrought—her nerves were always on edge.
“Your Maj—um, Evelayn.” He quickly changed when she shot him a look. “Do you still wish me to call you by your given name when we’re in private?”
“Of course.”
“All right.” He took a deep breath. “Evelayn, I had an idea this morning as I was getting ready to go running. It would be … risky. But I think it could work.”
Evelayn’s pulse leapt. She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting him to say, but that wasn’t it. “How risky?”
“Very.”
Evelayn pursed her lips. She didn’t like the sound of very risky. But if it would work …
“Tell me.”
“They’ll never agree to this,” Evelayn said with a shake of her head.
“You said it yourself, if we have no other choice, they’ll have to agree to it.”
They were quiet for a long moment as she studied the ground intently, not daring to meet his gaze. Finally, she spoke: “It will have to be me.”
“No.” His response was immediate. “Absolutely not.” Tanvir stepped in front of her, filling her vision. “I never intended it to be you who went. I’ll go if you wish, but you must stay here where it’s safe.”
“Until Bain is defeated, safety is only an illusion that we comfort ourselves with to sleep at night.” Evelayn wrapped her arms around herself. “She’s an Ancient. If the legends are true, she has more power than any Draíolon other than a royal, and she hates to be disturbed. If I send someone in my stead, they could be tortured or killed for daring to enter her lair. It has to be me. I can’t be the cause of any more death. Not when I could have prevented it.”
She stared forward unseeingly and nearly jumped when Tanvir softly touched her chin, tilting her face to his.
“This was not what I intended when I decided to tell you my idea. I never would have brought it up if I thought you would take it upon yourself to do it.”
“Then I’m glad you didn’t think it through completely, because it will work. And so far, it’s our only hope.”
They stood so close together that she could feel his warm breath on her cheeks. But it was desperation that lurked in Tanvir’s amber eyes, not desire, and his jaw tightened at her vehemence. “I’m sorry, Evelayn.”
She pulled her face free from his grip. “Don’t apologize again. I can’t take it.”
Tanvir reached out to cup her cheek, forcing her to turn back to him. Their gazes met and held. When he brushed his thumb across her lip, Evelayn’s mouth parted involuntarily. She could barely draw breath into her lungs.
“That’s not what I meant.” His voice was even rougher than his skin. “By the Light, Ev, I’ve never felt anything like what I feel when I’m with you. I want you so much, it terrifies me. I want to make you happy … but I can’t. As much as I wish I could, I know—”
“Stop,” Evelayn spoke against his thumb, which still lingered at the corner of her mouth. “Stop telling me that you know better than I do what would make me happy or not. My whole life, everyone has always told me what I can or can’t do—what will make me happy or not. Or rather, what will make my people happy or not. Can’t I just have this? This one thing, with you, that’s just for me?”
“Evelayn,” her name was a low growl deep in his throat, a husky sound that sent a corresponding reverberation through her body. He closed his eyes briefly, his fingers stroking down her cheek. Waves of longing spread down her neck to the rest of her body. “Forgive me,” he whispered. “Forgive me.”
“For wha—”
Evelayn’s question was cut short when Tanvir’s mouth closed over her own. She froze in shock—hardly able to believe he’d truly done it—and he immediately pulled back.
“Was I wrong to—I thought—”
“Yes! I mean, no. I mean … Just kiss me again.”
Tanvir lifted his other hand so that he cradled her face in both hands, and this time slowly leaned in until his lips barely brushed hers, a tender, hesitant kiss that stole her breath and made her ache for more. She grabbed his hips to steady herself. He kissed her again, longer this time, his mouth moving over hers. His hands dropped to wrap around her, pulling her closer, so their bodies melded together. Evelayn gripped his tunic as his hands roamed over her back and hips, pressing her into his chest, his stomach. A strange power—different from her Light Power—grew within Evelayn; a heated, grasping need that urged her to get closer to Tanvir, even though they were already clutching each other, their kissing turning fevered in the misty morning.
The cry of a bird nearby startled Evelayn back to reality, and with a gasp she broke from Tanvir’s embrace. She turned away, breathing more heavily than if they’d been running the entire time. Her lips felt swollen when she lifted her fingers and pressed them against her mouth, still slightly stunned.
“Ev … was I wrong to …”
She shook her head, still trying to regain control of herself. It wasn’t an everyday occurrence that she was the one barely able to catch her breath. Finally, she faced Tanvir again. His eyebrows were pulled down in concern and she couldn’t resist teasing him—at least a little.
“I forgive you, by the by.”
“For not kissing me on the turret. You were right. I wanted a distraction, but it wasn’t the right time.”
“Oh. Well, um, thank you?”
Evelayn smiled at him and then laughed—the first time she’d laughed in over a week. “Thank you. Despite what you may think, you make me very happy, Lord Tanvir.”
His answering smile was rather shaky. “You make me happy, too, little though I may deserve it.”
Evelayn took his hand in hers, lacing her fingers through his, reveling in the satisfaction that came from feeling free to do so—at least in private. “Goodness, my lord, if you keep sounding so grim, I’m going to start to think the worst of you.”
“Perhaps you should,” he muttered. “I’ve seen things … done things … that I’m not proud of, Evelayn. War is a cruel master and it can make beasts of us all.”
Evelayn’s smile slipped. She stepped closer to Tanvir and imitated what he’d done earlier—cupping his chin in her hand and forcing him to look at her. “I know you had to fight in some terrible battles. You actually saw the people you love die in front of you. It was a mercy that I wasn’t there when my parents were killed, I know that. I don’t hold any of it against you, Tanvir. You’ve done what you had to do to survive—to lead your battalion. I understand that.”
A muscle jumped beneath her hand where his teeth clenched. He didn’t speak, just shook his head slightly. She peered at him, almost certain it looked like his eyes glistened with suppressed tears. But then he bent forward and pressed his lips to hers again. This time his kiss felt almost desperate, as if he were suffocating and she was his only air. She clung to him, holding him tightly, wishing she could absorb his pain and grief, to take it away from him and allow him his happiness.
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