The last Auralian queen.
We emerged from the stairway into the soft glow of the hall. It reminds me of the way exhibit halls were lit at Edinburgh Castle, and in parts of the Louvre. A long stone bench faces the high wall with neat squares of stone. On it, taking up most of the space, was a roughly constructed wooden box. Most of the squares were carved with names. The most recent is my mother’s.
Five millennia of my ancestors’ bones lie here. This is my family’s crypt.
“There should be a tool to pry open the vault,” I said, searching for it.
“Zosia. Wait a bit. Let’s eat before diving straight into the next task.”
“Right.”
He would harass me to eat, even without considering my state of starvation. Yet it’s true that I’m famished and filthy, and there’s no need to rush this. We aren’t returning to the castle tonight. By the time we get Cata and my father into the burial vault it will be dark, and I intend to honor them properly.
Lorcan led me to the rear of the Hall, opposite the mausoleum, with the ease of someone who knows this place intimately. A section of rock, the seams invisible to the naked eye, swung silently open. Pale violet light spilled out.
Inside was a control panel, a large bed-like structure with clear crystal walls on three sides, and a rudimentary living area. It’s meant to be a refuge of last resort for the queen or princess, should she become ill or injured. The construction is Covari, made of the same strange material as the Sentinels, inscribed with ancient Auralian.
As far as anyone knows, Lorcan is the only one who’s ever used it.
Two bunks occupied the darkest corner of the room. Lorcan placed his pack on one. I took the other.
“I’d like to wash up, if I may.”
The look he gave me was sharp and unreadable. Did he expect me to ask him about his recovery here? I probably should. Yet knowing what he did afterward, I’m reluctant to inquire about any aspect of that time in his life.
“By all means, Princess.”
He showed me the way. I was taken aback to find his soap and a razor in the washroom, along with a clean towel. “Have you been staying here?”
“It’s a convenient waypoint. I’m in and out,” Lorcan replied. “Or, was.” There’s no real door, only a partition. “Not a lot of privacy. Saskaya and I were here together for months.” Glancing around, he huffed a quiet laugh. “No wonder she shoved a sword into my hand and told me to get moving.”
He did—away from me. Chasing the invaders out of our country and organizing resistance fighters, leaving me to starve, trapped in the castle alone with a monster, for over a year—while he slept with every woman who lifted her skirts or dropped her trousers. Lorcan claims he didn’t remember me. I’d write it off as one more lie, but even Raina assures me it’s true.
Once he came and fetched me, I tried to strike a bargain with an outsider. We need money. But Lorcan couldn’t bear to see me wed to another man.
Now, we’re publicly engaged. I’m stuck with him through the Autumn Harvest, when I’ll be formally crowned. Three and a half months of torturous forced proximity.
Again.
This time, it was my idea. An attempt to save face after I ran away from a political marriage I myself had negotiated.
All he had to do was say,I remember every day with you.
Lies. He remembers tattered bits and pieces and none of the important moments. He doesn’t remember us. He remembered he wanted what I represent. Nothing more.
He exploited my heartbreak.
I let him, to the detriment of my country. I was a lovesick fool, never imagining that Lorcan, of all people, would break my trust so coldly.
I had a few minutes to rue my idiocy while I quickly showered away the dirt and sweat from my climb. Avoiding my reflection in the fogged mirror, I pulled on a clean white shift and the new violet gown. It swallowed my thin frame. The belt helped a bit, the bunched fabric giving an illusion of curves where I used to have them. Short hair had the advantage of drying quickly. I held it back from my face with the gold diadem I brought with me. I didn’t think to bring a brush, though the leather sandals were a relief after hours in my boots.
Lorcan did a double take when I come back out into the main room ten minutes later.
I glared, even as my heart leaped at the memory of him doing precisely the same thing when I wore my green gown in Paris eighteen months ago.
“My father would appreciate the formality,” I cut him off before he said anything about my unnecessarily fancy clothing.
“It’s a nice dress.”
