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My stomach tightened even further. Rites were held at the same time throughout Solis—when they actually took place. Sometimes years and even decades passed between them. That was why second sons and daughters were given to the Court at varying ages. The same as the third-born, who were given to the Priests and Priestesses. I had never known two Rites to be held within the same year.

“Abel…he would be with the others. In the Temple of Theon,” the man continued. “We couldn’t get to them before we left.”

Understanding dawned. Knowing what he feared, what many others in this group likely feared, as well, I found my voice. “We will not besiege the Temples.”

The man’s relief was so potent, it broke through my shields, tasting of spring rain. A shudder rocked the man and echoed in my heart. “If…if you see him— He’s only a babe, but he has hair like mine, and brown eyes just like his momma.” His gaze darted between the three of us as he shrugged off the strap of a sack and tore it open.

I lifted a hand, stilling Emil as he went to withdraw his sword. Unaware, Ramon dug around in the sack. “M-my name is Ramon,” he repeated. “His momma’s name is Nelly. He knows our names. I know that sounds silly, but I swear to the gods he does. Can you give him this?” He pulled out a fluff of stuffed, brown fur. A small, floppy teddy bear. Leaving the sack on the ground, he approached, nervously glancing at Kieran and Emil, who tracked his every movement. “Can you give this to him? So he can have it until we can come back for him? Then he’ll know we haven’t left him.”

His request burned my eyes and stole my breath as I took the floppy bear. “Of course,” I whispered.

“T-thank you.” He clasped his hands together and bowed, backing up. “Thank you, Your Highness.”

Your Highness…

It sounded different coming from the mortal. Almost like a benediction. I looked down at the bear, its fur patchy but soft. The black button eyes were stitched tightly. It smelled of lavender.

I wasn’t their Queen.

I wasn’t an answer to their prayers because those prayers should’ve been answered a long time before me.

“Diana,” someone yelled from behind Ramon, and my head jerked up. “Our second daughter. Diana. They took her during the Rite, months ago. She’s ten years old. Can you tell her we haven’t left her? That we’ll be waiting for her?”

“Murphy and Peter,” another shouted. “Our sons. They took them both in the last two Rites.”

Another name was yelled. A third daughter. A second son. Siblings. Names were shouted to the needled branches, echoing around us as Emil’s and Kieran’s expressions hardened with each name yelled. There were so many names that they became a chorus of heartbreak and hope, and when the last one was cried out, my heart had withered.

“We will find them,” I said. And then louder, as a part of me deep inside, next to that cold, hollow place shriveled, I repeated, “We will find them.”

I gripped the bear as shouts of gratitude replaced the names—names I suddenly saw carved into a dimly lit, cold stone wall.

“There are others,” a woman toward the back said as we passed her. “There are others at the gates trying to leave.”

All those names overshadowed what relief that brought. My shoulders tensed. A knot lodged in my throat as I nudged Setti forward. I didn’t want to consider what drove the Blood Crown to hold two Rites so close together.

What that meant.

We traveled several yards before Emil spoke. “I don’t know what to say about that.” His amber eyes were glassy. He cleared his throat. “Two Rites back-to-back? That’s not normal, right?”

“It’s not,” I confirmed, placing the bear in a satchel strapped to Setti.

“That can’t be good.” His jaw worked.

No, it couldn’t be.

“Nothing should’ve been promised to them,” Kieran stated quietly.

“I promised that we would find them.” My voice was thick as I reached for the pouch at my hip and squeezed until I felt the toy horse inside. “That is all I promised.”

Kieran looked over at me, catching my gaze. “We will save as many people as we can, but we cannot and will not save everyone.”

I nodded. But if they’d held a Rite just a week ago, there was hope. A chance that the children were still alive.

That was what I kept telling myself.

Through the thinning trees, small farms and cottages stood eerily silent, doors and windows boarded up. There were no animals in sight. No signs of life at all. Did the owners remain inside? Or had they already been taken in a Craven attack as they lived outside the Rise, risking their lives every night to provide necessities to those inside the city?

After a few more moments, I saw the Rise. Constructed from limestone and iron mined from the Elysium Peaks, the massive wall encircled the entire port city. The portion I’d destroyed before the Handmaiden stopped me became visible. Relief filled me when I saw that it wasn’t a complete loss. About ten feet of it stood, and scaffolding already lined the upper destroyed portion. Still, guilt scalded my insides once more. I forced it aside. Wallowing in my remorse would have to come later.