Page 9 of Once the Skies Fade (Immortal Reveries #2)
Chapter 9
Calla
T he Olanders killed Brennan. Which, I couldn’t be sure, but one of the Wrenwick royals had stolen my husband from me. Why? Were they angry that I’d allied with Emeryn? No doubt, but why wait two years to strike? Why now? Why him?
Perhaps I was crazy to not want the details of Minerva’s curse, but with my battered mess of a heart drowning in a sea of brutal sorrow and bitter spite, I couldn’t bring myself to care how they suffered just as long as I knew they did suffer.
I should have known the human kingdoms couldn’t be trusted. Lief Olander was little more than a scorned lover turned warmonger, and now his cousin, Nils, seemed bent on following in his footsteps.
Blinded by anger, I saw none of my surroundings the entire ride home despite the full moon shining overhead as I raced toward home, taking few breaks to rest. The sun—and Isa, along with two of our guards—greeted me as I approached the massive stone and iron gates.
No one smiled.
No one spoke.
I simply stared at my general, ignoring the screaming ache in my backside, as I brought my horse to a halt and dismounted. She gestured to one of the guards to take the reins from me and ushered them toward the stables. As the guard led the horse away, I waited for Isa’s chiding words, but when she opened her mouth, no reprimand came. Only concern.
“Where have you been, Your Majesty?”
I should have been thankful for her worrying, but it grated on me like a rough stone dragged across my nerves. I had wallowed long enough, and as grateful as I was to her and Graham for caring so much, I had a kingdom to rule. I couldn’t hide in my grief forever. I couldn’t leave my kingdom to falter from my weakness.
Rubbing my weary hands along the sides of my neck, I strode past her without a word. She murmured something to the remaining guard before coming alongside me and matching my pace.
“Back to not talking, then?” she asked, sounding far more understanding than I honestly deserved.
My chest caved inward, as if my grief and my rage together wielded a massive vise around my heart. It pressed in from all sides as I walked up the cobbled stones that led to my home.
Our home.
Except there was no our anything any longer.
Only mine.
Tighter, my sorrow squeezed. How could I face the room I’d shared with him, and the balcony where I’d found his body? My shadows prickled in my palms as my mind flooded with the horrible memories—his hand reaching limply for me; the light fading from his hazel eyes; my name choked out on his last blood-soaked breath; my worthless screams that could not save him. My knees buckled, and my shadows slipped out of my palms to help me, but I recovered before I could collapse completely, pulling my magic back and waving aside Isa’s outstretched arms as I kept walking.
“I’m fine,” I whispered hoarsely, thankful she didn’t make some snide remark about my broken silence.
“Louisa should have a hot bath ready for you in the guest room, and I’ll let Chef know to send up a breakfast tray,” she said, but I shook my head.
“I’ll be moving back to our… my room,” I said, silently telling myself this was what I needed to do. “Arenysen has waited long enough for me, and I can’t move on if I keep running from the pain.”
“It hasn’t even been a month—stars— half a month,” Isa said, patiently. “You don’t have to move on so quickly, Calla.”
I halted at the castle entrance and rounded on my friend, my jaw clenched so hard my temples ached. Balling the fabric of my skirt in my fists, I tried to calm my anger, but it continued its rampage through my veins. “And if I don’t, who else is going to run this kingdom? You?”
Isa started to reach for my shoulder, but I angled away from her. She dropped her hand back to the pommel of her sword. “Grieving your husband doesn’t prevent you from ruling. You learn to keep living even as you heal, because life continues on––whether you’re ready or not. That doesn’t mean you have to rush to feel better or to ignore your loss.”
Her words should have soothed the burned edges of my heart, but something within me recoiled at the comfort, like I deserved to wallow in this pain and misery. Drawing in a deep breath, I lifted my chin and repeated, “I’ll stay in my own room.”
I pivoted away from her and stepped toward the castle door. It opened before I could even lift my hand, and my heart jolted at the sight of Graham. While he was a fae around my age—born just before the war—he looked a bit older than me. His dark hair was graying slightly at his temples, matching the flecks of light gray that dotted his dark-brown eyes.
We had known each other since we were quite young, when he and his mother lived near my family during the war. Unfortunately Graham’s mother had died shortly after the treaty was signed and the nations split, and my father insisted on taking him in as one of our royal staff. Over the years his great prowess in politics and history earned him a place as one of my father’s trusted advisors, and now mine.
Graham eyed me with the same warm and worried gaze he’d worn since my parents hadn’t returned from Dolobare. His sympathy had only grown more tiresome with Brennan’s death, but I tried to be grateful for his compassion and help. His and Isa’s.
Isa now spoke from behind me. “She’ll be sleeping in her own room after all.”
“And a bath please,” I requested flatly. Graham’s eyes widened slightly, flicking to Isa briefly. “Yes, Graham, I’ve found my voice.”
“Thank the stars for that,” he said, but the lightness in his tone didn’t ease his intense stare. “I hate to drop this on you right now, but in addition to the latest shipment orders needing your signature, the Assembly has been eagerly awaiting your return, and there are a number of citizens needing to speak to you today as well. I’ve already delayed both groups for as long as I’m comfortable doing.”
A sigh fell to my feet, pulling my shoulders down with it. As much as I needed to get back to work, it could at least wait until I had washed off the road’s grime and soothed my poor muscles. Silently, I pushed past Graham and made my way for the grand staircase. He and Isa followed close behind. Though I couldn’t escape them or the demands of my station, I needed a moment to think, to soak my weary bones and decide on a path forward––especially with regard to the information Minerva had divulged. Refusing to focus on the portrait of Brennan and me from our wedding that hung at the top of the stairs, I flicked my hand toward it as I walked past. “Have this taken down, please.”
At the door to my room, I paused and quickly spun to face my two friends, lifting my palms toward them as if placating obnoxiously needy children. “It’s been a long, difficult few days?—”
“We could send for Hilde?” Graham recommended, but I shook my head.
“No, thank you. I don’t need anyone to fix my emotions,” I insisted. “I’m going to sleep, take a bath, and maybe eat some breakfast before I speak to anyone else. Understood?”
They each nodded as I turned away and retreated inside.
Slumping back against the door, I closed my eyes and pulled my hands into fists. The silence in the room seemed to smother me with the reminder that, even though I still had Isa and Graham, I was alone—no husband, no family. Uncurling my aching fingers, I summoned my shadows and recalled the words of Minerva. My power itself wasn’t evil; it couldn’t darken my heart unless I allowed it to. There was no shame in using it, if I needed––and I needed it now.
Everything in this room held hints of Brennan. Some of his clothes still hung in the wardrobe. A pair of his boots still sat by the sofa. His scent—like smooth leather basking in the sun as it dried up the last of a spring rain—still filled the room. So often I had nuzzled against his neck, wishing I could stay wrapped in his comforting scent forever, and now I couldn’t escape it as it enveloped me, threatening to pull me back under the waves of grief.
At least my shadows could help hide the physical signs that he’d lived here with me—just until I could have my handmaid, Louisa, clear them away. My shadows spiraled from my palms and swirled through the air, covering the pieces of Brennan that remained behind. Slowly I closed my fingers once more, testing to make sure the shadows held fast and exhaling quickly when they did. After scrawling a note for the handmaid and leaving it on the entry table, I kicked my shoes off and glided to our bedroom.
I could have slept on the sofa, but my sore body urged me toward the more comfortable bed. Tears pricked my eyes as I pulled back the blankets and climbed in, not bothering to undress.