“I have five days. That’s plenty of time to make sure I get it right. Then we can finally enjoy peace.” Evelayn paused and glanced down at her right hand. “And start planning our Binding announcement and ceremony.”
“Peace,” Tanvir echoed with a hint of a smile. “I quite like the sound of that. At last.”
THE CROWD WAS GATHERED IN THE GRAND BALLROOM, both Light Draíolon and even some Dark Draíolon in attendance, though they were hesitant to mingle—most choosing to remain separate. Evelayn stood on the dais, Aunt Rylese and High Priestess Teca just to her right; Lorcan, Lothar, and Abarrane were to her left. Tanvir stood at the base of the dais with Ceren and Lord Quinlen. Though rumors had already begun to spread, tonight was not the time to officially announce Evelayn and Tanvir’s betrothal. Evelayn’s right hand felt painfully naked without the ring, even though it had only been five days since he’d given it to her.
High Priestess Teca lifted her arm, signaling the time had come to begin, and a hush fell over the crowd.
“Queen Evelayn of Éadrolan will now address us,” the High Priestess announced with a slight nod to Evelayn.
She took a deep breath and stepped forward. “We have gathered here tonight to act as witnesses to King Lorcan’s vow of peace. Our world cannot continue without balance. Light and Dark work together to create the day and night, to bring the seasons through their full cycles. Together, Light and Dark enable life, in all of its forms. I wish for the Dark Draíolon to regain their power—for balance to be restored. But I can only allow it to happen with an assurance of peace.”
Evelayn turned slightly to where Lorcan stood with his shoulders back, his chin lifted, his white hair falling freely around his obsidian-black skin. His silver eyes met hers and the challenge she saw there sent a chill down her spine. Please let this be the right thing.
“And so,” Evelayn continued, refusing to be cowed, “if you will step forward, King Lorcan, and make this Blood Vow—which is unbreakable upon pain of death—you will be free to go and reclaim your power from the Immortal Tree.”
Lorcan stepped forward, all sinewy muscle and raw power, the stone in his forehead still dull, until he was even with her. They turned to face each other as High Priestess Teca took her position between them, one step back.
“Please give me your right hands.”
They did as Teca bade. She took Lorcan’s hand first and withdrew the sacred silver knife of the Dawn Temple from her belt loop. Raising it high, she intoned, “By the blood of your heart and life force of your body, make you this vow Lorcan, King of Dorjhalon, which you shall never break or suffer immediate death.”
Lorcan looked directly into Evelayn’s eyes, his gaze unwavering as Teca cut a thin line across his palm with the knife. Crimson blood bloomed where once was unmarred flesh, but he didn’t so much as flinch. Refusing to appear weaker than Lorcan, Evelayn lifted her chin while Teca took her hand and repeated the process. When the silver blade slipped through her skin like a hot knife through butter, it burned as though she had been branded. But she didn’t flinch. She didn’t so much as blink.
“Join hands so that your blood will bind this vow.”
Again they did as Teca commanded, clasping right hands together. His skin was cool, his grip firm, but when his blood met hers, heat flared, as though fire were racing up her arm to engulf her entire body. But still they stood frozen, locked in a battle of wills that she wouldn’t—couldn’t—lose.
“The blood will bind,” Teca pronounced. “State your vow Lorcan, King of Dorjhalon.”
His fingers flexed against Evelayn’s skin as he began to speak, his eyes never leaving hers. She was trapped in that molten silver of his gaze, in the iron force of his will. “I, Lorcan, King of Dorjhalon, do make this Blood Vow, binding even unto death, that I will maintain peace between Éadrolan and Dorjhalon. I vow to respect and honor the power of Lachalonia, both Light and Dark, to help restore the balance my father attempted to destroy. Furthermore, I vow to rule alongside Evelayn, Queen of Éadrolan, and will not come against her or the Light Draíolon to battle. My life is bound to hers—if she dies, I, too, shall pass away. This is my vow.”
“So shall it be.” Teca grasped their bound hands, but Evelayn was hardly aware of her anymore. There was only Lorcan, his vow, and the searing pain from their clasped hands.
She’d spent countless hours with her council, writing and rewriting the vow, trying to encompass all their fears without making it so specific that he would refuse to make it for fear of accidentally slipping up and causing himself to die. They’d thought it had been perfected.
But as he’d spoken the words, his voice like the velvet night sky, smooth and infinitely powerful, she’d begun to tremble. What had been meant to be a vow of peace had begun to sound like … more. It was Tanvir who had suggested having Lorcan’s life be tied to Evelayn’s—what better guarantee that he wouldn’t seek to kill her? But as Lorcan had spoken the words, she’d felt a tug, a sudden thread between them that made her unaccountably nervous. And there was that underlying sense that he was somehow still mocking her—that she was playing right into his hands.
Teca finally released them, but he didn’t let go yet.
“I hope you are satisfied, Your Majesty,” Lorcan spoke, but this time it was a low murmur, accompanied by a single stroke of his fingers along the sensitive skin on the inside of her wrist.
Evelayn snatched her hand away from him and raised her chin defiantly. “I am.”
She turned to face the gathered crowd, her eyes immediately finding Tanvir’s. They were darkened with rage, the muscles in his jaw tight, his hands fisted at his sides. But she couldn’t do anything about it—yet. “The Blood Vow is complete. Prince Lothar and Dowager Queen Abarrane shall remain here as a guarantee of our joint efforts to restore peace and balance to Lachalonia. King Lorcan, you are free to go and reclaim your power.”
Teca produced two white cloths to wipe the blood from their hands, which Evelayn made quick use of, wanting all trace of Lorcan gone. But he ignored the proffered fabric, his fingers closing over the already-healing wound, his eyes still on Evelayn.
“I look forward to being reunited once I have regained my kingdom’s power. More than you can possibly imagine.” Then he bowed low to her, an elegant folding of his body that should have indicated his respect for her, but somehow still felt like he was merely taunting her. “Until then …” King Lorcan took her right hand in his once more and lifted it to his lips, pressing a kiss on her barren ring finger. She didn’t dare react with so many watching, but she wanted to slap him. Or blast him off the dais.
Instead, she stood like a statue as he released her, then turned and sauntered down the steps, off the dais, the crowd parting for him as he strode to the massive double doors at the opposite end of the room. Only when they’d shut behind him did Evelayn release the breath she’d been holding, with a relieved exhale.
The tense silence broke as a few Draíolon began to clap and then suddenly they were all cheering and celebrating, while Evelayn stood on the dais, her hand still burning and her whole body trembling.
THE FOREST WAS QUIETEST IN THE MORNING, WHEN most of Éadrolan was still asleep. Dew sprinkled the emerald leaves of the trees like tiny diamonds, and the flowers were only half-awake, their brilliant petals stretching open to the slowly rising sun. It had been months since Lorcan made his vow and left to try to reclaim his power. This late in the year the air was crisp with the promise of winter, but Evelayn merely conjured a soft shaft of sunlight to warm the path she walked, heading toward her favorite place in all of Lachalonia. As beautiful as the forest was at that moment, it was nothing compared to how lovely it looked in the height of summer, when there was no need to use her power to warm herself or to coax the flowers to show their jeweled faces.
But at least she no longer had to worry about the consequences of the balance of power shifting to the Dark Draíolon with the return of winter, now that peace had been restored—and Lorcan had made his vow.
The path wound down through the trees, the ground mossy beneath her bare feet as she moved swiftly away from the palace. Her councillors and priestesses knew she still left every morning by herself, usually to go running, but she’d finally convinced them there was no longer a need for anyone to accompany her and disturb the peace she found in the rare solitude she had at dawn. Tanvir usually came with her, and that was protection enough.
Evelayn continued on for a few more minutes and then, finally, she caught a glimpse of the water and a flash of white. She moved slowly now, not wanting to frighten the flock. They tended to be more nervous in the colder months, when predators were more desperate. One swan lifted her head and watched Evelayn as she carefully sat down upon the log, waiting to see if she’d brought them bread this morning. Only when Evelayn remained motionless for a good minute or two did the swan apparently realize she didn’t have an offering, and begin to lazily paddle away.
Evelayn watched them for a few minutes, how they interacted with each other and stretched their long necks to duck their heads beneath the water, searching for breakfast. After her father had died, Evelayn had come to this spot every day with her mother, and for a moment she missed her mother so intensely that she felt actual pain—acute and sharp, a stab of loss, an ache of regret.
“I wish you were here for tonight,” Evelayn whispered to the air, to the swans, to the soft breeze that brushed at her cheeks. And maybe to her mother, if Evelayn’s secret wish was true: that Ilaria was still somewhere nearby—as it had seemed the day of the ceremony when she’d heard her voice. That was the biggest reason Evelayn wanted to visit the swans alone every morning after her run. She’d gotten in the habit of talking to her mother while she was there, and didn’t want anyone to hear her. “You would have loved Tanvir.”
As the sun rose higher in the sky, warming the earth and the air, Evelayn tilted her face up to let its rays—the power of which she could now harness at will—brush against her skin, and allowed her eyes to drift shut.
Which was why she was almost caught off guard when someone rushed straight at her through the trees, moving with extraordinary speed.
Evelayn jumped to her feet, spinning to defend herself against her attacker, only to find herself face-to-face with a grinning Tanvir.
“I nearly got you that time,” he said, his eyes sparking with mischief.
There was an affronted trumpeting from the pond, and Evelayn turned to see her swans stretching their wings and taking flight, hurrying away from the newcomer who was altogether too loud and moved too quickly to be trusted. She felt a pang as they flew away, but she didn’t want to mar the day by being morose, so she turned to Tanvir with her lips pursed in mock frustration.
“Now look what you’ve done.”
Tanvir glanced at the retreating swans and then back at Evelayn with a slightly repentant smile. “I apologize, my lady. But I couldn’t stand to sleep even one more minute knowing that tonight was the night—and that I’d find you here alone for at least a few moments.”
At his words, her sadness began to dissipate like the dew turning to mist from the warmth of the sun, and Evelayn took a step toward Tanvir. “And why would you wish to seek me out when I was alone, High Lord Tanvir?”
“You know very well why.” He reached out to run his hands down her bare arms. The sunlight melted over him, making his bark-brown hair glow as Evelayn tilted her chin up, leaning in to his touch. When he kissed her, she could taste nectar on his lips.
“You seemed sad when you first saw me … Were you thinking of your mother?” Tanvir asked a short while later as they finally broke apart, slightly breathless.
Evelayn nodded. “I was wishing she could have been here for tonight.”
“I wish she could, too. And your father.”
Evelayn reached out to take Tanvir’s hand in hers, lacing her fingers between his, just like the first time he’d come to find her on this log, three months earlier, before she’d defeated King Bain. “Your parents, too … and your sister.”
A dark shadow crossed Tanvir’s face, making Evelayn almost wish she hadn’t brought up Letha. It was Tanvir’s greatest regret—he still felt responsible for his sister’s death, even though they’d discussed what had happened many times, with Evelayn trying to persuade him to see that he should not blame himself. He just couldn’t forgive himself for losing sight of her during the bloody battle, for the fact that he hadn’t been there to fight by her side, to protect her, or to offer comfort as she died.
“Would that they were all here and had been able to rejoice in true peace alongside us.” Tanvir gazed out across the pond, as if he could somehow see past this world into the one beyond.
Evelayn squeezed his hand tightly, letting him know that she understood his pain—because she felt the same way.
With a slight shake of his head, Tanvir managed to smile down at her again. “But let’s not darken such a bright day with regret or wishes for things that cannot be. No victory ever comes without sacrifice and loss. We’ve endured the loss. Now let’s enjoy the victory.” He bent over to press a fierce, almost desperate kiss to Evelayn’s lips, which she eagerly returned.
This was why she’d fallen in love with Tanvir—because not only was he kind, but because he seemed to need her. Not her crown or her power. Just Evelayn; the comfort she could give him and the friendship and trust they’d developed over the last few months.
Evelayn gently pushed him away a couple of minutes later. “I hate to say this, but I must get back. There’s so much to be done before tonight. I’m sure half the court is probably already growing impatient, wondering what’s taking me so long.”
Tanvir kissed her swiftly once more, then stood, pulling her to her feet beside him. He lifted her hand to his mouth so he could press one last kiss to her fingers. “Until tonight then, my lady.”
“Until tonight,” Evelayn echoed, wishing she could stay with him all day. Soon, she thought. Soon they would have all the days they could ever dream of to be together.
And then before she lost her will to face a long day of preparations, she turned and ran back to the palace, moving as quickly as Tanvir had when he’d tried to sneak up on her. Though she regretted having to leave the pond and the peaceful morning of pretending to be nothing more than just plain old Evelayn behind her, she had no choice.
It was time for her to be the queen of Éadrolan.
EVERYTHING IS PREPARED AND READY FOR THE GRAND Feast, my lady.” Ceren curtsied to her friend, who stood beside the throne, surveying the Great Hall. Her lavender-streaked hair had been intricately braided and arranged around the diadem her mother had worn for so long. The painstakingly wrought swirls of metal that encircled her head and met in a point on her forehead burned silver and white, the gems glittering in the light of the setting sun.
“You know I’d rather you weren’t so formal with me, Ceren.” Evelayn turned and smiled, her violet eyes bright with anticipation. Ceren was struck once again at the changes in Evelayn since she’d become queen of Éadrolan. She had always been lovely, but now … now she was breathtakingly beautiful.
“Well, it feels inappropriate to call you by name when you look so … queen-like.”
Evelayn shot her a quelling look, but Ceren merely shrugged. It was the truth. The power that Evelayn harnessed made her glow from within. The gauzy silver-and-white dress she’d had created for the special night flowed over her as if it were made of the lightning that she could control at will. The dress had a special opening cut into the bodice to allow everyone gathered to see the pulsing light of the diamond embedded in her chest. She was as delicately pale and seemingly serene as her mother before her.
But Ceren knew that Evelayn held a fire inside her that her mother, Queen Ilaria, hadn’t possessed. Many members of the Éadrolan court believed that was why she had succeeded where her mother had failed, despite being so young. Ceren still found it hard to believe that the girl who she’d woven crowns of flowers with, musin
g over which boy they’d someday fall in love with and Bind to, had truly killed King Bain and ended the ten-year war.
Thousands of candles already burned in the Great Hall, in anticipation for nightfall, reflecting the honeyed light of the sun as it arced toward the earth, preparing to take with it the meager warmth of the crisp autumn day. It was the last day of Athrúfar, the weeklong celebration that marked the end of the harvest and the transition to winter’s full power, and the tables were heavy with the spoils of the fields: ripe fruits, sweet breads, roasted nuts, heady wines, herb-crusted fish, and juicy pheasant; there were vegetables bathed in decadent sauces, and all sorts of cakes, pastries, and other desserts, including one of Evelayn’s favorites—white-chocolate mousse with fresh raspberries. The musicians had finished setting up in the far corner, and music began to float through the room—an airy, joyful overtone to the increasingly excited hum of the males and females filling the palace.
“Do you think they’ll like it?” Evelayn asked, gesturing at the many Light and Dark Draíolon already mingling across the floor below her, something that hadn’t happened since the war began, but which Evelayn had insisted on. “Enjoy the celebration, I mean.”
Ceren looked out over the growing crowd—the tall, lithe bodies of the adults, the slightly hunched elderly, and the younglings dashing around the legs of their family and friends. Evelayn had wanted every subject of both kingdoms who wished to be present allowed in the palace. Over the last few months, since King Lorcan had left to try and reclaim his power and the peace had held, the two kingdoms had intermingled more and more.
“I’m sure they will,” Ceren assured her. She almost reached out to squeeze Evelayn’s hand but stopped herself at the last moment, not quite sure if that would be proper in public.
Evelayn flashed her a grateful smile and then continued to survey the Great Hall.
For the first time in over a decade, there were as many Dark Draíolon in attendance at the Great Hall of the Éadrolan Kingdom as Light. The majority of them seemed as eager as Queen Evelayn’s people to put the war behind them and forge new bonds of peace and friendship. There had been very few unwilling to make the oath of peace that Evelayn had demanded. Ceren had never seen so many in one place before. She’d heard plenty about the Dark Draíolon, the Summoners of Night, Autumn, and Winter, and their penchant for wearing brightly dyed furs and leathers, intricately cut and designed to show off their bodies; but it was different actually seeing them mingling with the Light Draíolon, Summoners of Day, Spring, and Summer, who preferred gauzy, iridescent fabrics. Light and Dark together in peace again—finally.
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