“Harlow, if you do, my mother will be forced to call him back again.”
She looks at Gaven’s body. “Then have her call him back.” Her voice wavers, and my stomach sinks.
I keep my voice gentle, fighting the urge to reach for her hand. “It’s been too long. It won’t work.”
She stares at him for a few long moments, and I think of his final request. Not telling her what he said is eating at me. Divine Asher does not smile on those who ignore final wishes, but there’s no way for me to tell her what he said without implicating myself.
“We had a complicated relationship, but he did the best he could,” she says softly. “It wasn’t enough, but it wasn’t nothing.”
The guilt churns in my stomach. “He said something in passing the other night. I asked him about why he puts up with your attitude, and he said because he was sorry about something that happened six months ago.”
She goes still. “Six months ago?”
“Yes.”
She makes a soft hum of consideration. “No idea what he means.”
I press on. “I got the impression he regretted not standing up for you in a more general sense.”
Harlow is quiet for a long moment before she turns to face me. “And here I thought the two of you were forever at odds.”
“I sparred with him yesterday afternoon. It’s probably the most he’s spoken to me,” I say.
She rolls her eyes. “I’ve never met someone who talks so much during a fight. Honestly, he was never working hard enough.” Sheswallows hard and looks away. “We should light a pyre at dawn. Do you think your father would start it with holy fire? Gaven was particularly devout when it came to Vardek.”
“I’m sure he would.”
“I’d prefer for it to be private if that’s okay,” she says.
“Whatever you want.” In my own ears, I sound too agreeable—too guilty, but Harlow doesn’t notice, and that makes it worse.
52
HARLOW
We burn our dead at dawn to honor Divine Asher. The end of the night is just the start of a new day, and the funeral services are meant as a reminder that life and death are a divine circle, each ending forever giving way to a new start.
Many people find that thought comforting, but to me, death has always felt final. Or it did, until I met Henry.
He shifts beside me, his aura curling around me like a protective cloak. I didn’t ask for that, and I don’t need it, but I’m pretty sure he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. It’s been that way since the claiming. I’m not sure if it’s more a measure of his possessiveness or his guilt.
He’s expecting me to melt down, but I don’t cry. I get even.
It might take some time, but Stefan Laurence is going to die a spectacularly slow and painful death.
Philip and Evangeline stand off to one side of the pyre. Bryce and Carter stand on the other. The weight of their collective gazes presses in on me.
This is what I have always hated about funerals and what I’m dreading about Dark Star Festival. It’s hard to perform my grief when I feel nothing but the chill of a cold winter morning. I pull my cloak around me tighter.
Of course, I’m sad that Gaven is gone. He has been the steadiestpresence in my life. But the sadness is more like the ache of an old injury, a thing that flares to life on cold or rainy days. I’m sure I will feel it when the reminders come, but it’s so fresh, it doesn’t fully feel real even as I’m watching his shrouded body burn.
The blue fire is ravenous, catching instantly and roaring to such a blaze that I resist the urge to take a step back. The one good thing about using holy fire for these ceremonies is that it burns hot and fast, and the whole thing is over in moments instead of an hour.
As the holy fire burns, I think of what Henry told me about Vardek’s blessings.
My father would see anyone with similar magic as a threat to his rule of the city. He’s a man who needs control at any cost. It makes sense that he would not abide teenagers with holy fire showing him up.
I know him enough to be certain of the validity of what Henry shared, the same way I know that my father would never willingly allow the Drained to come into Lunameade. For all his many flaws, my father has a code, and that code begins and ends with him looking good publicly to the people of the city. Sacrificing the fort to protect the city is a clear example of that.
