Over the next few days, it becomes clear that the castle is in turmoil, and with both the king and Rylan completely withdrawing from their duties, Princess Elara steps in to take on the queen’s responsibilities. At first, it seems like a natural progression—Elara is next in line, after all—but it quickly becomes apparent that not everyone is pleased with the change, with her approach to things.
One afternoon, as I pass by Rylan’s chambers, I hear raised voices echoing down the hallway. Curious, and with a sinking feeling in my stomach, I step closer to listen.
“You can’t just make these decisions without consulting me, Elara,” Rylan’s voice rings out, sharp and angry. At least he’s not slurring like he was with me. “It’s not your place.”
“And what would you have me do, Rylan?” Elara’s voice is equally sharp, tinged with frustration. “Sit idly by while the kingdom falls apart because you’ve decided to lock yourself away?”
“I’m not locking myself away!” Rylan snaps back, but even I can hear the hollowness in his words. “I’m grieving.”
“We’re all grieving,” Elara counters, her tone hard. “But that doesn’t mean the world stops turning. The kingdom still needs to be run, decisions still need to be made. Or do you expect me to simply defer to your silence?”
There’s a long pause, and I can imagine Rylan struggling tofind the words. When he finally speaks, his voice is lower, filled with a bitter edge. “You’ve always been too eager to take control, Elara. This isn’t about the kingdom—it’s about you wanting power.”
“And what if it is?” Elara’s words are like a slap, cold and unyielding. “Mother is gone, Rylan. We can’t afford to be weak now. If you won’t step up, then I will.”
I hear the sound of something crashing—perhaps Rylan’s fist slamming onto the table. “Don’t you dare speak to me about weakness, Elara. I’m not going to stand by while you play at being queen!”
The tension is thick enough to cut with a knife, and I can barely breathe as I listen to the silence that follows.
Elara’s voice, when she speaks again, is icy and controlled. “Then prove it, Rylan. Show everyone that you’re capable of leading and not just as Father’s lackey. Otherwise, step aside.”
I hear footsteps, and I quickly move away from the door, not wanting to be caught eavesdropping. As I walk down the hallway, my heart is heavy with the weight of their argument. The castle feels even colder now, the loss of the queen creating rifts that may never heal.
Over the course of the next few days, the dinners in the grand hall become quieter and more subdued. The absence of the royal family is palpable. Even Julietta, who was always been a constant presence by the queen’s side, seems genuinely distraught. Her usually sharp and composed demeanour is softened by grief, and though she still maintains her air of superiority, there’s a sadness in her eyes that wasn’t there before. It’s clear that she cared deeply for the queen, having served her for years, and the loss has left a void that can’t be easily filled.
The day of the queen’s funeral dawns with a sky as grey as the sorrow that blankets the kingdom. The capital is shrouded in mourning, the streets lined with flowers and citizensdressed in black, heads bowed in respect as the royal procession moves slowly through the city. The queen’s coffin, draped in the royal colours and adorned with white lilies, is carried on a grand carriage, its wheels creaking softly on the cobblestones. The silence is heavy, broken only by the occasional sobs from the crowd. It’s clear how much the people loved her, how deeply she will be missed by every soul who had the fortune to be touched by her kindness.
I think of the few interactions I had with her, and how each one left me with the impression of a woman who was not only regal but also deeply compassionate. Her laughter, her gentle words—they’re echoes now, memories that seem so far away. The kingdom’s loss is immense, and I can’t help but wonder what it will mean for the king. Traditionally, there’s a mourning period of one month, but after that, the king will be encouraged to remarry for the strength of the kingdom. But how could anyone ever replace her? How could anyone fill the void she’s left behind?
The royal family walks at the head of the procession, each member draped in all black with sashes of deep blue and white velvet—the colours of Celador—crossing their chests. Elara is a picture of strength, her face set in a mask of control as she supports the king, who leans heavily on her arm, his once-proud posture now bent with the weight of his loss. Alina walks behind them, her usually bright eyes red and swollen from tears, her sobs muffled as she buries her face against Caelum’s shoulder. Caelum holds her tightly, his own face drawn with sorrow, though his eyes remain dry.
And then there’s Rylan, walking beside Alina, yet alone. He wears the same black attire, the contrast of his bright sash a stark reminder of his duty to the kingdom, even now. Despite the sombreness of the occasion, he looks devastatingly handsome, the gravity of his grief only adding to his presence. Hissteps are slow, deliberate, but his face is a mask of unreadable emotion. He doesn’t cry, doesn’t speak, and his eyes are fixed straight ahead, unseeing. The crowd watches him with a mix of pity and awe, the weight of his grief making him seem even more distant, unreachable. He is the only one who doesn’t have someone to lean on, and the sight of him standing so alone, so stoic, sends a sharp pang through my heart.
As the procession nears where I stand, my eyes lock onto Rylan’s, and for a moment, the world seems to narrow to just the two of us. Without thinking, I reach out as he passes, my fingers brushing lightly against his. To my surprise, he doesn’t pull away. Instead, his fingers tighten around mine for the briefest of moments, a silent connection in the midst of overwhelming sorrow. The touch is fleeting, but it’s enough to send a rush of emotion through me, leaving my heart aching with the depth of his pain.
When the service finally ends, and the queen is laid to rest, Rylan disappears as quietly as he came. No words are exchanged, no farewells given. He simply vanishes, leaving a void in his wake that feels as vast as the loss of the queen herself. I watch him go, my chest heavy with a grief that isn’t just for the queen, but for the man who now bears the unbearable weight of that pain. I long to reach out to him again, to offer comfort, but I know, deep down, that this is a sorrow he must face alone. And the thought of it tears at me, knowing I’m powerless to ease his suffering.
Doran and I resume our training sessions alone, to give us something to do, but even that feels wrong. We spend much of the sessions sitting on the grass of the empty expanse of the training grounds talking about the queen, and friends and family we’ve lost to the afterworld. A week after Mathis had come into the woods to alert Rylan of the queen slipping away, I find myself restless, unable to focus on anything formore than a few minutes. I decide to take a late evening walk, and as soon as I step outside, I see Caelum approaching, his usual easy smile in place despite the heavy atmosphere.
“Mind some company on your walk, Eira?” he asks, his tone light and friendly.
I nod, grateful for the distraction. Together, we walk through the gardens, the flowers seeming to droop with sorrow, their vibrant colours muted in the melancholy moonlight. Caelum does his best to keep the conversation light, talking about whatever comes to mind—stories from his travels, jokes to lift my spirits.
As we walk, a cool breeze picks up, and I shiver slightly. Without a word, Caelum shrugs off his jacket and drapes it over my shoulders. The thoughtful gesture brings a small smile to my lips and I don’t tell him that I need no protection from the cold.
“Thank you,” I say, pulling the jacket tightly around me.
He grins. “Can’t have you catching a cold. Rylan would have my head.”
The mention of Rylan sends a pang through me, but I push it aside. “I don’t think that’s anything you need to worry about,” I reply lightly.
Caelum’s charm is undeniable, and while we’ve spent a lot of time trying to stump each other with puzzles, there’s always been a shallowness in our interaction that has me still wondering his true intentions. But I do know I can’t fault his loyalty, how he genuinely seems to care about the well-being of the people around him.
“Caelum,” I start hesitantly, remembering the last time I asked someone this question, “do you ever think about... what’s best for the kingdom?”
He gives me a sidelong glance, his smile fading slightly. “Every day, Eira. Every single member of the royal family does.And, yes, despite appearances, that includes me. We all have a role to play, even if it’s not always clear what that role is. Duty appears differently in everyone.”
There’s a depth to his words that I hadn’t expected, and it leaves me with more questions than answers. He’s right, I’ve never considered that the man I’ve spent countless hours exchanging quips and puzzle clues with, would feel such a tie to his duties to the kingdom. I can only imagine how they weigh on Rylan as the Crown Prince. But as we walk, the conversation turns lighter again, and for a while, I’m able to forget the heavy thoughts that have been clouding my mind.
