“And recent events have only confirmed that,” Oclanna says sadly. “Oh, Morgana. I’m so sorry.” She reaches for my hand. It’s unexpectedly cold, but I grit my teeth and accept the touch, knowing she’s only trying to comfort me.
“I’msorry,” I say, happy not to have to lie this time. “You knew them much better than I did, and you must miss them.”
Oclanna looks out the window again, and I see another shimmer in her eye.
“I do. They were clever, you know. They prepared for everything. I was named regent before Becane told us about you, and I’ll stay in that position until your coronation.” She turns back to me. “I see now why they did that. It’s so I can guide you and keep you safe through this whole overwhelming process.”
Oclanna’s words offer me some relief. I’ve no idea how to navigate these next few days, let alone the first months or years of my reign. Knowing I won’t be expected to do it on my own offers some light in the darkness.
“Thank you,” I say. “I’m grateful for your help.”
Oclanna smiles, but then her expression becomes serious.
“I think the first step might be the hardest. People will expect you to face your parents’ killer, to make a decision about his punishment. The Trovian people are hungry for justice, and only you can provide it.” She bites her lip. “But perhaps you’re not ready for that.”
“Honestly, I’ve been avoiding thinking about it,” I say. They told me the name of the killer at Gallawing. It was a name I already knew—and feared—from my history books. But it was all too strange and far away to believe. Now, presented with the idea of actually meeting him, I’m anxious…but also angry, the emotion gnawing and bone-deep.
“I would understand, of course, if it was too much,” Oclanna says. “Looking a cold-blooded killer like him in the eyes is no easy thing for anyone.” Oclanna touches my shoulder, and I can feel the pressure of her cold fingers through the fabric of my clothes. She must catch me looking at them, because she withdraws her hand with a wry smile.
“I’m an aquari,” she says. “Ice conjurer. I’m afraid cold hands come with the territory.”
I nod my understanding, then gather my courage. “I want to meet him,” I say quickly. “I’m apprehensive, true, but I should do it, for my parents.”
I think about the murderer—someone whose power is to conjure terror. What ways might that seep into a person? I try to picture the man awaiting me somewhere in this building.
“The Nightmare Prince,” I say, because saying it aloud might take away some of its power. Leonidas Claerwyn, the second grandson of the fae king Respen Claerwyn. He has a lot of grand titles, officially—but here in Trova? He’s best known by one.
In theory, he’s an ally. He fought beside my great-grandfather Palquir in the civil war that nearly ripped this country apart. But how can you ever really trust someone with the power to sneak into your dreams and torment you with your greatest fears?
They say he can drive men mad. They say he did it to an entire village—and no one survived. They say every one of them took poison, just to get him out of their heads.
They say he laughed when he heard the news.
If Filusia was going to send anyone to assassinate their neighbors, it’s no wonder the king decided Leonidas was the man for the job.
“Has the fae court sent any message?” I ask. “Are they demanding their prince back?”
“We haven’t informed Filusia yet. We were waiting for you. Though if King Respenisbehind this, then no doubt he already knows how events have played out. Perhaps he expected his grandson to do a better job of covering his tracks, but he was arrogant and sloppy. The knife he used—” I flinch, picturing it, and Oclanna stops. “I’m sorry, maybe you’re not ready to hear this.”
“Please, go on,” I say. “I want to know the details, no matter how hard they are to hear.” Maybe if I get the whole picture, this will start making sense. The monarchs of Filusia and Trova have been allies for a hundred years. What changed?
“The knife he used was clearly fae in origin, and there were traces of sensic magic all around their bedroom,” Oclanna explains.
My mind conjures up a picture of the scene for me—a shadowy chamber, bedsheets crimson with spilled blood. For some reason, I expected more damning evidence than that—the fae prince caught stood over their bodies, weapon in hand, perhaps. But I suppose that’s too neat. He’s too smart to be caught red-handed. I push the image away. Understanding the details will help me, but picturing them willnot.
“I want to see him,” I repeat. It’s important I get this done before I lose my nerve.
Oclanna nods, rising. “We’ll receive him in the throne room. It sends a message.”
She instructs a guard to bring him to us, then leads me through the halls. I’m happy to have her take charge. Like Oclanna said, there are new factors I have to consider in everything I do now: What message will this send? Will this give the right impression? Will I seem strong enough, like a queen should?
There’s something eerie about the throne room. Carved jade steps lead up to the platform of empty chairs. The same oak leaf design as the arches outside curls around the top of the biggest throne, where my mother would’ve sat. This unnerves me most—the whisper of people who should be here, my mind calling up their ghosts.
“Why would the fae want to kill my parents?” I ask Oclanna as guards march in after us.
“I don’t know for certain,” Oclanna answers. “Respen may have some design we can’t foresee. But I wonder if their view of your parents has soured over the last few decades. You’ve met Anointer Nunias. He holds a crucial position here at court, and I can’t imagine the fae would like that. No one remembers when the crown fought against the Temple, but the fae saw it all firsthand, and they don’t forget.”
I remember what my history books said about the civil war that ended with my great-grandfather on the throne. Of the two factions looking to rule after the old king died, he had the greater claim by blood, and the support of Filusia. But the Temple of Ethira backed his challenger. The Trovian royal family made its peace with the Temple years ago, but from what I’ve read, there’s still no love lost between the Temple and the fae.
