Hollis
Outside the tent, Candace's sobs sound as loud as Raven's screams did not too long ago, but nothing changes in the flow of frantic traffic between the other tents. Almost everyone heads for the largest one, half of them clutching gifts, to pay fealty to the new baby prince.
Something in my chest crumples.
If I was a good person-the man she seems to think I am, if she made the mistake of counting on me-I would walk back into that tent and hold her. Fuck Father, fuck whatever other consequences might follow. The mark on my shoulder certainly agrees, screaming almost louder than her in waves of pulsating pain. But what she and the mark don't understand is that being a good person comes second to being a good prince, and I was only raised to do one of them well. The heart whining in my chest is almost a waste of an organ at this point. I've let it shrink and wither for so long that sometimes I'm surprised it still beats. So Candace's sobs don't inspire anything in me that my mother's didn't one of the last times I talked to her.
My memories of Mother are few and far between. More of them have faded in the almost twelve years since her death. When I picture her now, she looks more like the portrait hanging in the gallery hall than a living, breathing woman. But there's one memory that always stays crystal clear. Sharp enough to cut, if I remember it too often.
A couple days before she died, she called me into her room. Just me. I pushed open the door, my then nine-year-old hand barely large enough to wrap around the handle of the royal bedchamber Father had abandoned to be Mother's sickroom. I don't think I'll ever forget the smell of that room. Mother had been sick for a while, not that Father was telling anybody, and the astringent stink of the royal healer's poultices hung heavy in the air. None of them had helped.
She laid in the massive bed, smaller than I'd ever seen her. Her dark hair hung limply against her cheeks where it didn't stick to patches of sweat. The only blotches of color on her pale face were raised red spots on her cheeks one of my tutors had explained meant her fever was high again.
"Open the curtains." Her voice rasped weakly. "Then come sit next to me."
I obeyed as quickly as I could. Father and I had a talk the day before. He didn't think she had long left, and I didn't want to waste a second. Perched on the mattress next to her, I waited while she coughed. As always, she tried to hide the splatter of blood on the sleeve of her nightgown. As usual, it didn't work.
Mother wrapped her twig-like fingers around mine and looked at me, tears shining in her warm eyes. "I love you. You know that, don't you, my little holly berry?"
The old nickname just stung. I squeezed her hand and didn't say anything.
"And I always will." She looked away from me, at the night sky shining through the curtains I'd opened. "When...when I'm gone, you can look up at the stars and know I'm watching over you. Wherever you are, that's where I'll be." A tear streaked down her cheek.
A sadness too deep to understand roared in my chest.
Father had made sure to mention another thing during my talk with him the day before. Snowcrest Canyon would mourn the loss of their queen, so they needed to know their king and crown prince remained strong. They could only grieve Mother fully, as they needed to, if they knew they could rely on us. It was my responsibility as their prince to keep a stiff upper lip.
So when I looked at the silvery tear track on Mother's sunken cheek, when everything in me screamed to throw myself on her and sob and beg the Goddess to change Her mind, I held onto Father's words. Our people needed us. I sniffed once and trained my gaze on the window. Just like the smell of that room, her broken little inhale when I looked away is unforgettable, still ringing in my ears. Echoing in Candace's barely hidden sobs in the tent in front of me.
I swallow, sniffle once, and walk away. It's better that she learns now. I can't be relied on.
The next two days pass in a blur. Luna Estrella alone carries out the revitalization rituals, and since Rowena isn't allowed back, she keeps opening up the blessing for any who will give it. Something about the first one being a total disaster seems to have broken the ice. At least no one can give the worst blessing of the event. Rumors about Candace swirl, spurred on by the fact that nobody sees her. She's not at the rituals, not getting food at communal mealtimes, nothing.
Not that I'm keeping track. I, in fact, am doing the exact opposite. I've been so caught up in her that I've been neglecting my responsibilities. Even if she's not the person I'm going to spend my life with, I still believe in her dream. There's just no reason for her to lie, or to seem so scared if she is. So I throw myself into making alliances. Since training in archery was pissing me off more than helping, Zain and I set up some hand-to-hand sparring. Sometimes in wolf form, sometimes with weapons. It lets me keep an eye on Ty, who does show up with those same blue eyes the very next morning, though they're gone by lunch. His eye color is yet another topic of the endless conversation that seems to be the lifeblood of this fucking place. Popular theories include the Lilywind delegation testing drugs in the drinks at their bar, which doesn't make anyone stop going, and fringe side effects of the revitalization. No one connects it with what happened to Candace. No one seems like they're going to start a war to end all wars.
Between the twice-daily sparring sessions and the drinking that follows, I spend time with Eva. More time. Intentional time. If whatever Candace and I had is doomed, there's only one option. I need to figure out how to convince Eva either that we're mated-virtually impossible, with the sun-shaped mark on my shoulder-or to tell everyone that we're mated and hope whoever her true mate is never appears. I'm not stupid enough to think it's going to be an easy sell. But we've been raised our whole lives as each other's mates. Spending forever together, even if it's under slightly false pretenses, can't be that hard to wrap her mind around. Someday. Once we're back where we were before we arrived here.
In the late afternoon on the second day after Rowena made her announcement, Eva and I lie in the grass near the edge of camp, blowing bubbles out of a soap liquid someone named Nikos from Thunderpeak traded her. They dance through the sky overhead, tiny pockets of rainbow light.
"No." Eva shakes her head, smiling just a little. "You're making that up."
"I'm not!" I lean up on one elbow to look at her. "I really heard someone in the bar claim rainbows are evil because they're the opposite of the moon."
"I just refuse to believe anyone can be so stupid." She exhales a gentle half-laugh, the most I've gotten out of her in two days. I don't have to ask to know the Candace situation is bothering her. Not least because I saw her outside the circle of Solberg tents yesterday, fighting with Princess Ingrid about whether or not she could visit.
Silence falls. I focus on blowing the biggest bubble I can through the contraption of sticks and string Nikos gave Eva with the liquid. Slowly but surely, the curve expands. Bigger, bigger-
"Have you seen her?" Eva asks.
The bubble pops. Bitter soap rains down on my face.
"No." I scrub a hand over my skin to remove the worst of it. "Why would they let me in?"
"I don't know." She shakes her head. "Maybe because you helped get rid of her monster of a mother?"
I shrug. This is a dangerous path to walk down. My brain starts wondering-is Eva banned because of me? Does Ingrid or any of them know about us? Am I so much of an ass that I've damaged our alliance with Dun's Crossing?
"If only I knew what was going on." Eva sounds wistful. "If I could just tell her this doesn't change anything for me."
"She'd probably really appreciate that." Candace's words about relying on Eva echo through my mind, and my mouth burns.
"If only." Eva sighs. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to bring the mood down. You've been so strong about this for me."
That's what I'm good at. Swallowing whatever I have to for my people.
Eva shifts slightly, twisting her hand to lay palm-up in the grass. Perfect to hold. My mark screams as I take it. We've held hands a million times, but it didn't mean anything before we came of age. Now, every touch feels important. Judging by the flutter of a smile on her lips, she feels the same.
I suck in a deep breath then brush a gentle kiss over her lips. We've kissed before, secret experiments in hidden corners of the castle. I still remember the clench in my gut, the craving for more. Now, I feel sick.
Eva lights up when I pull back, and I crush the sick feeling into nothingness. This is my promised, my wife, and I'm going to love her as well as I can. It's what a prince should do.