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“You’ve gotten better at this,” Mother says.

“Jamys tried to teach me.”

“Apparently it went well.”

A lump forms in my chest. We did make a decent team. If all we were ever expected to be was friends, we’d have been excellent at that. My chain of stones grows as I try to surround Mother’s pieces, and my mind flitters to the trial. I couldn’t contain Nina’s fire. I had it surrounded, but it broke through.

“How did Nina break my shield?”

Mother sighs. “I can’t pretend to understand what it feels like to have the elements set against each other. They are all interconnected, so I imagine it’s complicated.”

Tap. Tap. Tap.

“I felt that—their connection.”

“Good. You should explore every facet of your element.” Our hands keep moving in an unbroken rhythm. “I wasn’t sure how the lines between them would blur when they were separated.”

“How did you decide which element we’d each get?” My entire life, I never gave it any thought. Our magic seems like anything else in our blood. I’d never ask why Nina is slightly shorter than me, or why Rylan’s eyes are darker. But this is something she chose.

A few taps of stones pass before she answers. “It didn’t feel like much of a choice, really. Rylan made me a mother. My whole world shifted, and it seemed as if he’d continue shifting earth. You… well, you know air was never my strong suit.”

“Could you tell so early I’d be the troublesome one? Figured you’d dump your least favorite power with me?”

Her lips tip up at the corners. “You were a bit troublesome. It was a more difficult pregnancy, but I didn’t give you air because I didn’t like it or you. I thought we’d be different, that you’d have different strengths. I knew you could be things I couldn’t.”

Different indeed. She’s calm logic while I’m impulsive spirit. Mother is grace and poise to my flighty eccentricity. She does things her own way—splitting the magic, having multiple children, forming the ministry—but she knows how to make people come around to her ideas. As opposed to me, running off to Ceraun on a whim without seeking out approval.

Our differences have always appeared to me as ways I’m worse, but she makes it sound as if I could be better. If only that were true.

***

Though the hours drag, the days pass quickly, and before I know it, we are back on land for the final leg of our trip. The Queen and Princess keep to themselves, which I am infinitely grateful for. I can’t expect to understand their devastation, but they think I share it. The family takes time to reunite and grieve alone, delaying my reunion with Urian.

Mother, Father, and I are given rooms and dine alone the first night. In the morning, we ready for the funeral. Cerauno fashion seems to have been designed for funerals. Today, I don’t mind the dark, heavy fabric, or being so concealed. It feels like a continuation of being in a blanket. It’s almost enough to soothe my nerves over my place in the procession.

The ominous stone cathedral looms ahead as Jamys’ coffin is brought forth, followed by the King and Queen, Princess Lillian, then me. Before other family members. Before the lords and ladies of Ceraun. Keeping up this charade is a punishment I probably deserve. Though I may not be grieving properly, my discomfort with my position manifests in a bowed head and meek gait. Perhaps all negative feelings result in the same appearance.

The road is lined with a dark sea of people paying their respects to the fallen prince. Sniffles and sobs resound. At least he was well-loved by others, even if I couldn’t offer that.

I don’t know if Cerauno funerals are all so dreary, or if it’s worse because it’s a young prince, but it is truly the most depressing thing I’ve ever seen. There is no room for happy memories, or appreciation of the time he had. It’s all grief for the loss, how terribly unfair and untimely it was, all he could have done and been if only given the years he should have had.

Father grips my hand. I pull a bubble around us and do my best to speak without moving my lips. “I suppose the purpose is for everyone to feel worse about the situation.” He only squeezes my hand in response.

For people who believe death was not the end of the gods, they certainly catastrophize human expiration. Perhaps knowing the gods went willingly into death soothes our feelings about our inevitable endings. It can’t be so bad if they chose it. It’s worse for those left behind, particularly when funerals are like this.

We suffer through the remainder of the service, and Jamys is put into the royal mausoleum. After another morose parade back to the castle, the extended family and high-ranking aristocrats come together for a reception. It’s more tears and quiet, and I no longer feel guilty for not grieving properly. If this is the appropriate way to grieve, no one should be doing it.

When Lillian is alone, I go to her with a glass of wine and a small plate of finger sandwiches. “Have you had anything at all?”

“Only a little.” She takes one of the sandwiches. “Thank you.”

“Would you like to go for a walk? Get some fresh air?”

“I shouldn’t.” Her gaze drops to the floor.

“Why not?”

She looks around. “I don’t know.” She eats a little more before I take it upon myself to remove her from this.