Sixteen
Nothing felt real. When I spoke, when I listened, it was like being in a bubble, without sound or color or smell. I was exhausted, and no amount of food or sleep helped. Varic was busy, called away constantly, and though logically I understood, I missed his warmth and touch and so closed myself off so he wouldn’t see that need in me. It wasn’t fair to make him feel guilty, it served no purpose, and so I lied and told him I was feeling better when he sat down beside me during the funeral rites, at the blessing, and at the viewing. I told him how much I appreciated him taking care of Nerilla. She was the only thing that was important. Not me. I was the one who was still alive.
Julia Maedoc, the king’s sister, arrived to take her son’s body home. Before she left, I sat with her and held her hand and told her how brave Marcellus had been in the end, and how sorry I was that Gideon had taken her mother from her. She stood for a long time in front of her mother’s portrait that had been liberated from Gideon’s villa. As promised, the king had an entire team of people there cataloging everything, unearthing every secret the rajan had as he sat in the dungeon awaiting execution. After Nerilla was put to rest, it would be his turn.
Julia wanted me to accompany her back home. She felt I should spend some time there as, to her mind, I needed mothering. She wasn’t wrong, but the queen was there, gliding between us, prying Julia’s hand from my arm and reminding everyone that the prince’s consort belonged to her. I loved it, having a mother again, and we talked for hours. And when I called Ode, they talked too, and that soothed something I wasn’t even aware that was broken until then. But Ode’s mother was amazing, and she’d shared her with me. Finally, I could share someone back.
The king’s brother, Gaius, insisted that his son Andreas bring me back with him so he could thank me in person for uncovering the truth about his mother’s death. I had also contributed to getting Andreas released by confirming all of Gideon’s nefarious plotting, which included dragging the king’s brother—and his whole line—through the mud. Andreas pressed me for several days until the queen overheard him.
“You and your father are always welcome at court,” she reminded him, “but the prince’s consort remains here, with him.”
There was no more insisting after that.
Nerilla’s family arrived at court, her mother, father, and two brothers, and I was disappointed that none of them seemed to want to know me. They were cold, and that made me sad, but it was perhaps the form their grief took, so I let them be.
I was walking in the roof gardens with Zev, not talking, just me in my head and him at my side, when Chione and Solveig appeared and asked to speak to me. Before she could speak, I offered her my regrets that Alrek had run from the palace. I said that I was sure he’d come back when he knew he was safe. It had been terrifying for all of us, and I would have taken Nerilla and fled if I could have.
Both women looked at me in almost startled wonder. Apparently, from what Zev explained afterward, they had been treated quite poorly since Alrek’s hasty exodus. The fact that the prince’s consort was being kind to them would help quite a bit with their standing at court. I was certain he was deluded, and he assured me that I was actually the clueless one. When the request came later that afternoon from both women, wanting to see me again, to visit, I was thankful that Zev answered their servant with an imperious shake of his head. I was, he explained, not ready to receive visitors. I would let them know when I was.
By law, Nerilla was to be placed in the crypt in the hypogeum next to Cassius. Varic announced that he had her heart removed before it was burned, to startled gasps from those in attendance. When he further explained that he was joining her ashes with those of his brother, as Nerilla had been in possession of the ashes of Cassius’ heart, the entire packed room fell into stunned, awed silence. When Varic concluded with the fact that Nerilla had made a special request of me in her final moments, directions for what she wanted done with her ashes and Cassius’ ashes, there wasn’t a dry eye to be found.
Carice and I had never spoken, but she caught me in the palace library later that evening when everyone else was paying their respects to Nerilla’s family, the king and queen, and of course, Varic. She was even more beautiful up close, and apologized for not making the time to meet me the first night.
“Things happened,” I assured her, trying to smile.
“I had no idea that Varic removed Cassius’ heart before he placed him on the funeral pyre,” she said, her voice low, husky, gentle as she gazed at me with hooded eyes. “And now I have to ask you, my consort, if you will please grant me, the love of his life, at least some of those ashes for when I myself return to the earth, as I have no place at his side in the crypt, and Nerilla will be there for eternity.”
I was quiet as I walked down the long rows of books, parchments, and treasures under glass. It was hard to know how to phrase my answer, because there was no need to hurt her feelings, but the request was impossible.
I took a breath. “I’m sorry that there’s no place for you in the Maedoc crypt,” I told her, “and it must be hard knowing that your son can’t be placed there either, but I was given a specific task to carry out, not just by Nerilla but by Cassius himself, through Varic.”
She appeared almost startled, and some of it, I knew, was because she never heard the word no, and probably because it seemed like a small thing she was asking me for rather than the absolute sacred trust that it actually was.
I decided on total honesty. “Nerilla told me that she shared a truth with you.”
Carice’s brows furrowed as she looked at me.
“She said that the two of you shared an understanding about Cassius, that once you were loved by him, being loved by another was not an option.”
Of all the things I could have said, I had to believe, from her reaction, that those words were the last she had expected. Instantly her eyes filled, and she grabbed hold of my forearm with both of her hands, clutching tightly. “She said that? About me? About us?”
I nodded. “She did. She said that you and she were of the same mind.”
“Yes,” she agreed, wiping at her eyes. “I had no idea that she—and now I wish. I wish.”
“Me too,” I told her, sighing deeply. “But think of it this way, if you will,” I began, smiling for real then. “He loved you in life, and showed you, and blessed you with your son, and Nerilla had to share him with you. Now, in death, don’t ask her to share anymore. Allow Nerilla to be home with him now.”
“You don’t understand,” she gasped, starting to cry. “Chryos is—the timing was…” She heaved out a breath. “The king—Chryos is the king’s son, though no one will ever know but myself, the king, and Gideon.”
“Cassius didn’t know?”
She shook her head. “I told him the baby was early.”
Cassius never knew his son wasn’t his. And Nerilla didn’t know that her prince never fathered a child. How monstrous to keep that from the two of them. It was a horrible betrayal.
“So you see, I need some of his ashes, as I truly have nothing from him.”
“You had his love; the memory will have to bring you comfort,” I said coolly, lifting my head, which was a signal to Zev, who was there before Carice could utter another word.