Page 17 of Crown of Betrayal and Blood (Dragons of Tirene #3)

Chapter Seventeen

A shiver slinks down my spine the following morning, not from the chill of the overcast day but from the weight of grief that presses upon my shoulders like an unrelenting storm.

Mother’s ceremony is small and private, no big fanfare or gathering for a noble from another kingdom.

The lush garden around us, bursting with vibrant blooms and verdant foliage, is a stark contrast to the somber mood that hangs like a suffocating shroud over the small private courtyard within the palace of Tirene.

In my stillness, my feet have become rooted to the ground. My shaking hands clench the fabric of my white dress. The delicate mourning veil flutters slightly with each gust of wind, along with the lock of hair at my temple not pulled back into a tight braid.

Beside me, Leesa’s adorned in a nearly identical style. Her presence is a warm and reassuring touch against my left side, while Sterling, always the pillar of strength, stands at attention by my right. His elbow grazing mine has been our only contact during the ceremony.

On the other side of my sister, Bastian offers quiet support, his eyes reflecting a shared sorrow.

As the ceremony goes on, I stare at the fire in front of me. My ally. My weapon. My second skin. Today it is removing the last lingering traces of the only mother I’ve ever known. My eyes burn with all the tears I’ve shed. And yet they’re not enough to stop the flames from consuming my world.

The pyre before us crackles and snaps with angry flames, as if protesting its duty in consuming the last physical remnants of a life so cruelly snatched away.

The clothes my mother wore when death claimed her are slowly shriveling into ash and smoke, like an offering to the skies above.

In Aclaris, bodies are buried within their lands. Nobles like my mother have a family crypt. Tirene burial practice is to cremate the body in public, with nobles’ pyres being an event for all to attend.

To honor both traditions, the priests reached a compromise. Lady Lynnea Axton’s body will be transported to her estate and laid to rest in her family crypt. And here we are burning her clothes, including the ones she wore when she died, all wrapped in a shroud with a priest overseeing the ritual.

As the billowing smoke rises toward the heavens, I am reminded of the fragility of life and the constant tug-of-war between tradition and progress that weighs on my heart.

If someone had told me when I was a child stuck in my mother’s castle day in and out that I’d one day realize I hadn’t spent enough time with her, I would have scoffed.

Leesa reaches over and intertwines her fingers with mine. “She will be laid to rest next to Father. They will be reunited in death.”

I tilt my head in a stiff nod, struggling to find the right words. “Together in the dark. Just as they wished.”

The thought should bring comfort.

Their spirits reunited in the next world while their bodies embraced in eternal slumber beneath the cold earth of our family crypt. But instead, it feels like a fleeting ghost, slipping through my grasp like the mists that often shroud the palace grounds in the early morning.

Sterling’s gaze meets mine, his dark brown eyes a tumultuous sea, reflecting storms yet to come. He doesn’t say a word, but his silence speaks volumes. In his stillness, there’s a promise. A quiet strength that tells me he will weather this tempest beside me, no matter the cost.

The priest of Pera, goddess of families, gives his final blessing into the somber air, leaving a heavy silence in its wake. Lifting bushy eyebrows, he regards Leesa and me expectantly.

Leesa unsheathes a dagger from her hip and steps forward.

My eyes widen, and I fight back the tears that threaten to fall. This is a custom both kingdoms share, and one which gives me great solace. As the eldest, Leesa is the first to make her sacrifice. She reaches up and cuts off the loose hair hanging by her temple.

Now it’s my turn. Pulling out my own short sword, I step toward the priest and my sister. With trembling fingers, I grasp the loose lock of my dark hair.

Mother taught me this ritual. Just like she taught me so many other things.

But not enough! I’m not ready to live a life without her. How will I get married, have children, raise them, without her to help me? To guide me?

What do I do now?

The sharp snip is barely audible over the crackling of the funeral pyre, but the sound echoes within me.

Leesa and I hand over the sacrifices of our own bodies.

Just the way Mother taught us.

The priest takes them and adds them to the fire, stepping so close I almost expect his long beard to sizzle in the heat. Yet he doesn’t seem to notice as he speaks to the goddess on our behalf.

Which is good. Because my throat is so tight I’m not sure I can talk without crying. Again. Gods, will these tears ever end?

A tactile memory of burying my face in Mother’s collar rises to the surface of my mind. I can feel the soft suede against my forehead. The ache in the back of my skull from crying so hard. The sticky snot running down my face and getting smeared on her clothes. Now I’m not even certain what childhood trauma caused me to cry like that. A fight with Leesa? Getting scared by the alicorn courier? Accidentally setting the stable ablaze and hurting the stable boy?

It could be all of them. Because, as a child, the answer to my pain and grief was always the same.

I would run to my mother.

She would hold me. Even when a nurse, our nanny, or a maid tried to take me, Mother would embrace me until my tears were spent.

And I never once said “thank you.” I said I hated her for keeping me locked up. I said how she treated me wasn’t fair. I said she had no idea how hard she was making my life. Because I was a stupid, prideful, ignorant child.

“May this bind our spirits to yours, so we may all be reunited in the next world.” Leesa whispers beside me, her own sheared tresses fluttering down to join mine. Though she manages to keep her voice steady, her eyes betray the tempest raging beneath her composed facade.

“Thank you, Mother.” My voice cracks, and tears well up again. “Thank you for raising me and never once making me feel as if I wasn’t your beloved daughter. I’ll never know how much you sacrificed for me. But I will forever be grateful. Find your peace with Father now. Until we meet again.”

Somehow, I manage to get the words out without having a complete breakdown.

Watching our mingled hair wither and burn, I can’t help but feel lost as I whisper a final prayer. It occurs to me that I never got the chance to do this for my biological father. Even though I saw him die, I didn’t know who he was when he stole me away from the Axtons and attempted to return me to our family home in Tirene on the back of an alicorn.

I don’t even know what happened to his body. With Mother gone, I’ll likely never know. How will I find my birth mother and father in the next world without making a sacrifice to Pera at their funerals?

We stand there as the ashes of our sacrifice blend with Mother’s clothes while the others stay at a respectful distance. Ceremony concluded, the palace servants, clad in their muted uniforms, step forward one by one. Their condolences, mere whispers meant to comfort, are reminders of the void that now lies at the heart of our family.

Through my veil and slowly falling tears, I can barely make out their faces as I incline my head in thanks.

Queen Alannah, a frail figure amidst the sea of white, offers a nod so slight I almost miss it. These past days have taken their toll. What little resurgence of spirit we saw in her when tragedy struck has dissipated, leaving her adrift once more. As maids guide her away, her steps falter, and guilt gnaws at me.

In our grief, we’ve leaned too heavily on her fragile shoulders.

“Leesa?” Bastian’s concerned voice pulls me back.

My sister clutches her head, a grimace marring her usually bright features. “My head. It hurts again. But I’ll be fine.” She fails in her attempt to offer a reassuring smile.

Beneath my veil, I wipe the tears away. “You should rest.”

I reach for Leesa’s arm, but she stumbles.

Bastian catches her, circling his arm around her waist. “I’ll get her back to her room and will ask the healer to visit her.” His arm remains wrapped protectively around her as they depart, while I’m left standing with Sterling.

“I need to go to Nyc’s temple.” The words spill out without thought.

I have no idea how close a temple to the goddess of night might be, but I cannot rest until I get some answers. How am I to find my lost family in the next world? I’ve always heard that the dead must travel through Nyc’s darkness before reaching the next world so hopefully one of her priests or priestesses will know.

“Today, my duties can wait. I’ll come with you.” There’s no question in Sterling’s tone, no room for argument.

“How far away?—”

“Just beyond the palace grounds, we have temples honoring all the major gods and goddesses. According to reports, ever since the drachen attack, all the temples have been receiving more visitors.”

“I get it. During uncertain times, when inexplicably terrible things happen, it makes sense for people to turn to the divine for answers and comfort.” His statement tracks with what I’ve personally witnessed too. In the palace training fields, I’ve overheard a lot more prayers and entreaties to the gods than I ever did before the attack. “So Nyc’s temple is nearby?”

He waves an arm, signaling for me to join him as he leads the way. “Nyc’s temple is this way, into the forest.”

The journey to the temple is silent, our footsteps in perfect sync as the courtyard path leads to the trees. My mind is in turmoil, thoughts colliding and crashing against each other like waves against a rocky shore. The branches overhead block the sun as we head deeper into the wild growth. Being by Sterling’s side brings both comfort and a reminder of the tangled paths we’ve chosen to walk together.

If Sterling hadn’t taken me from Aclaris, would my mother still be alive? Would Leesa be plagued with headaches?

Maybe.

But I wouldn’t have uncovered more about my dragoncaller heritage or strengthened my bond with dragons. Nor would I have learned that royal blood flows in my veins. I probably never would have experienced the beauty of my homeland.

I want to be angry at Sterling. To yell and demand what’s mine by right of blood. But none of this is his fault any more than it’s mine. I’m not even sure I can blame Jasper any longer. These events were set in motion long before any of us had control over the situation. All of this was dropped in our laps, and we have to figure out the best path forward.

Everything is just so complicated.

Here’s to hoping the gods will help me.