Five

A funeral was organized within a week. During that time, Aristea lay in state within the Royal Temple on the palace grounds. Visitors streamed in from all over Malvan to pay their respects to her, as well as to try and catch a glimpse of the other Royals. Devyn especially, as she was now the new heir to her grandmother’s throne.

Throughout all the preparations, no one had been able to spot the girl due in part to how privately she and her mother had lived for most of her life. Mostly though, Devyn hadn’t been seen because she had barely left her bed.

Once Sir Hayes officially declared that Aristea was gone after checking her neck and both wrists for a pulse, Devyn started screaming, the aching, cracked thing in her chest shattering completely. She didn’t stop until Queen Valda ordered the man to cast a sedative charm on her. She awoke in her bed hours later, the lack of light coming through the gaps in the thick curtains telling her it was night. She rolled over and pulled her quilts over her head, shutting her eyes tight against the threat of more tears.

It was fine with her if she never left the room again. It was fine if she went back to sleep and never woke from it. She had said that she’d be okay, but how could she ever be okay again when the one person who had always been in her corner was gone? More than just her mother, Aristea was Devyn’s best friend. She was her confidante, her role model, the one person who knew Devyn better than anyone else. She was everything to her. Devyn doubted that anything would ever be okay again.

Sleep came again to claim her, heavy and dreamless. Over the next few days, she hardly remained awake long enough to do much more than eat the food that Katrin had to practically force down her throat and visit the bathing room. She couldn’t even be persuaded to change out of the dress that she’d been wearing the day Aristea died no matter how much the cheery yellow color of the garment now disgusted her.

Valda came a few times to check up on the girl, attempting to lure her out of bed first with enticements, then with threats. It would not do for the new Crown Princess of Malvan to waste away in her bed while half of the kingdom was flocking to the palace to take part in mourning. Devyn had to be seen by the people. She had to show that she was able to stand tall in the face of adversity.

Devyn ignored the bribes and threats until the day before the funeral was scheduled to commence. She lay awake in her bed, staring at the ceiling that was completely covered with painted murals depicting past monarchs and Heroes of the kingdom, watching the rising sun creep across. She knew the story behind every scene, but none seemed to matter to her anymore like they once did.

Slowly, she rose and made her way to the bathing room. She called for a maid to fill her tub with water, “As hot as you can make it.” Devyn instructed the girl who answered her summons.

Every muscle in her body ached. She supposed it served her right for barely moving for nearly a week. Once the bath was ready, she sat in the steaming water, letting the heat work some of the tightness out of her underused muscles. She relished the pain of the water on her skin, relieved to feel something other than pure despair. Devyn sank into the water until she was submerged up to her chin and let her mind go blank. It wasn’t until Katrin knocked on the door to the bathing room two hours later that Devyn realized the water had gone cold.

“Your Highness,” Katrin curtsied, “I’m very glad to see you out of bed. Shall I get you your robe?”

Devyn noticed the air of formality and a sharp pain lanced her heart. Of course, Katrin would have to speak more formally to her now that she was next in line for the throne. She hated even the thought.

“Please Katrin, treat me like you normally do. At least when it’s just us.” Devyn implored the woman.

A gentleness washed over Katrin’s face, “Of course.”

She helped Devyn out of the tub and into a robe made of soft cotton that she carried over her arm. Together, they moved to the vanity in Devyn’s bedroom and Katrin began to comb out the tangles that were beginning to turn into mats in her hair. Devyn stared at her reflection in the mirror, barely recognizing herself. Where her cheeks were usually full and rosy, now they were pale and verging on gaunt. The sharp angles of her cheekbones stood out making her eyes look sunken, and dark circles only enhanced the effect. Her lips were chapped and dry. She ran a finger over her bottom lip and frowned. She looked half dead herself.

“I look as terrible as I feel,” she muttered.

“Losing a parent is no small thing. No one can blame you for falling into your grief.” Katrin replied.

“Grandmother does.” Devyn said stiffly, “As a Royal, I ought to hold myself to a higher standard. Or whatever she has been saying during her visits these last few days.”

Katrin sighed, “I’m sure Her Majesty does not intend to be callous.”

“No, probably not.”

The two continued in silence, Katrin gently working the snarls out of Devyn’s hair before working it into a braid that wrapped around her head like a crown. She left out a few locks here and there, allowing the curls to frame her face and camouflage the sharpness of her features. Once she was finished, she brought in a simple black dress for the Princess to put on. Black was only to be worn while in mourning for the royal family, so Devyn guessed this particular dress had just been purchased from somewhere in town.

She pulled the frock on and looked at herself in the mirror once more. The black color suited her well, setting off the richness of her red hair and deepening the flecks of green in her ocean eyes. She looked presentable enough, the Queen would be pleased.

“Thank you, Katrin,” Devyn said.

The maid inclined her head toward her lady, “It’s my pleasure.”

Devyn approached her grandmother who was sitting at the head of a long table stationed in the middle of the small dining room reading something official-looking, her half eaten breakfast growing cold in front of her.

“Good morning, Grandma.” Devyn curtsied as she spoke.

“Good morning dear,” Valda said, her eyes still on the paperwork before her. “It’s good to see you out of your bed. There is much going on that you need to be informed of.”

Devyn sat in the chair to Valda’s left, murmuring her thanks to the footman who instantly appeared with a cup of tea and a plate of eggs with toast for her. She looked at Valda’s face and noted that her eyes were looking dull, and the lines around her mouth appeared more severe.

“I’m listening,” she replied.

Valda began to fill Devyn in on the plans for the funeral. She told her the schedule for the day, where she would need to be and when, and which guests to make a point to greet. What she would wear, how her hair would be styled, how much makeup to wear on her face; everything had already been decided for her. The thought crossed Devyn’s mind that if this kind of micromanagement was going to be the norm, she understood why her mother had preferred to live in the woods.

The service would commence at noon, followed by a military procession into the castle town and ending at the Royal Mausoleum within the cemetery. There, Aristea would be interred in a private ceremony, attended only by the queen and Devyn and select members of their household staff. Once the ceremony was over, they would return to the palace for a dinner hosted in Aristea’s honor.

It would be a long day from the sound of it. Long and draining. Devyn nodded along as Valda rattled on about who would be in attendance and the proper etiquette to follow. Finally, the queen paused and leveled her gaze on Devyn.

“I don’t have to tell you that tomorrow will be difficult. A funeral is typically a time to mourn the loss of your loved one with others who loved them too. However, we are not typical people. We cannot fall apart. We cannot scream or cry. We must present a somber, but stoic, front. The people of this kingdom do not wish to see us as vulnerable in any capacity. Can I rely on you to keep yourself in check tomorrow?”

Devyn stared back at her grandmother, “I know the part I have to play, and I will play it to your satisfaction.”

Valda nodded and turned her attention back to the paperwork before her. Devyn glanced down at her untouched breakfast and felt her stomach churn. She got up and left the room, without so much as a farewell.

The setting sun bathed the Temple in a golden light, accentuating the intricate details of the stone surface. Trailing vines carved into the granite reached toward the sky as if reaching for the gods themselves. Among the leaves, symbols were hidden that told the story of the creation of the world. The language the symbols belonged to had long since died, but the stories remained.

Devyn stood before the building, staring at the large iron doors that separated her from her mother. She wanted to see her one more time before the funeral but couldn’t quite make her legs move to step inside. It felt like there were lead weights strapped to her feet that she couldn’t shake off.

It would be better to get inside the temple…Safer. Somehow Devyn had managed to get all the way there without being seen by any of the court guards or one of the guests who were there for the funeral. Customarily, no one was supposed to enter the sacred space the night before a funeral, but Devyn couldn’t avoid the pull she felt to be at Aristea’s side one last time. She knew that if she’d told Lothar or even Katrin, they would keep her inside the palace. Devyn took a breath, filling her lungs with as much air as she could, and forced herself to take a step. Then she took another, and another, until she was pushing her way through the heavy metal doors and into the sanctuary of the temple.

The room that sprawled out before her was cavernous in design, to allow for the magnitude of the gods’ beings to dwell there. The ceiling was painted with murals and depictions of each deity, and the glossy mirror finish of the marble floor reflected the paintings perfectly. Marble pillars spanned the gap between floor and ceiling, each etched with a different scene from the story of the world’s creation, symbolizing the connection of the people to their creators.

In the center of the room laid a wide platform made of crystal so clear it could have been glass. On top of the platform sat the casket that held Aristea’s body. The lid was closed. Devyn walked across the room and mounted the platform, placing her hands gingerly on the wooden surface.

The casket itself was also beautiful. Made of the finest wood of the native evergreen trees and inlaid with gold scrollwork, the vessel that held Aristea befit her status as Crown Princess. No doubt it was enchanted to preserve her mother’s body, even after her entombment. Devyn could practically feel her grandmother’s magic crackling over the surface.

Applying pressure, Devyn pushed up the lid of the casket, the well oiled hinges making no noise as she did so. Her breath caught in her throat as she peered down and observed her mother, laying there with her eyes closed, for all the world looking like she was only asleep. She was dressed in a simple frock made of deep green linen. It was customary to be dressed in full regalia, but she had elected in her will not to have an open casket so there was not much point in dressing her so elaborately.

Devyn reached down and gently touched her mother’s face. It was cool, the skin feeling more like a doll’s than a person’s.

“Oh Mama,” she breathed, “What am I supposed to do?”

Devyn stayed with her mother for a while longer, not having the energy to speak anything more. A noise came from behind a door that led to an anti-chamber, signaling that one of the sages was walking by and would come through the door any minute. She pressed one final kiss to Aristea’s brow and hastily shut the lid to the casket.

Hurrying across the room to the door as quietly as she could, Devyn let a few hot tears slide down her cheeks. She reached the door and slipped through it into the dark. Night had fallen while she had been saying goodbye. It was just as well; sneaking around the castle grounds was much easier in the dark.

She took her time getting back to the palace, taking the longer path around the perimeter of the grounds. She was closer to the dangers of the forest there, but she didn’t care if something came after her or not. She was struggling to care about anything at all. Even still, something inside her told her no harm would come to her that night.

Devyn made it back to the palace gate unseen. She crossed the bridge, but the moment she stepped off of it, she felt someone else’s eyes on her. She looked around and noticed a figure standing in the shadows of the palace wall. The figure pushed off the stone they were leaning on, and strode forward, the torchlight revealing their face. It was Lothar, and he looked furious.

“Good evening, Lothar,” Devyn said, attempting to sound pleasant.

“Good evening for whom?” the guard spat as he came to a stop in front of the princess, nodding his head in a poor excuse for a bow.

Devyn blinked, taken aback by the young man’s tone, “What’s the matter with you?”

Lothar ignored her question, “Where did you get off to alone tonight?”

“I took a walk,” she said.

“If you wanted to take a walk, you should have called for me, Your Highness. Going off alone is reckless.”

“I needed some air.” Devyn replied, feeling her temper spark, “Is that a crime?”

Lothar gave the princess a long look, “Maybe not for you, but it gets us lowly guards flogged. So perhaps, next time you could consider informing me before you disappear?”

Devyn’s cheeks burned, her temper fizzling out like it’d been doused with water. “What do you mean, flogged?”

Lothar shifted, looking suddenly uncomfortable. Devyn noticed then that he wasn’t wearing his usual full military dress. The crimson coat that he normally wore was slung over his arm, and his white dress shirt looked unkempt.

“You were punished because of me?”

“Ten strikes across the back with a leather strap. It could have been worse.” Some of the man’s ire ebbed away at the look of horror on Devyn’s face.

“It could have, sure, but it could also have been so much less severe! How did anyone even realize I was out alone?”

“One of the guards stationed near the stables saw you pass by alone at some point and mentioned it to the captain. I was ordered to retrieve you but not before receiving my punishment.”

Devyn gaped at him, “I’m so sorry. I had no idea that you’d be punished because I snuck away.”

Lothar waved the apology away, “It’s okay. Just take me with you next time. I swear I’m not here to hinder your comings and goings.”

“Can I do anything?” Devyn asked.

“These are orders from the top. I’ll be fine as long as you don’t run off without me again,” Lothar chuckled.

“Of course. I still don’t understand why they would punish you for something that was out of your control. I’m the one who snuck away,” she said.

“It wasn’t totally out of my control though; I should have been more aware of your location so that it would not have been possible for you to go off alone.”

Devyn huffed a sigh, “Again, I’m sorry. I guess I’m just not used to needing a chaperone. I could go anywhere I wished alone at home.”

“You say that like you grew up in another world instead of on the other end of the forest,” Lothar noted, causing a rueful smile to spread across Devyn’s lips.

“In a way, I did. I’m a princess of this country, but I don’t feel at home here at all. Being waited on hand and foot, having an escort everywhere I go, it’s foreign to me. Mama raised me to be self-sufficient, not a monarch.”

Lothar nodded in understanding, “Then Her Highness acted wisely. You’ll be much more in touch with the subjects of this kingdom because of that.”

“I hope so,” she replied quietly.

A beat of silence passed between the two before Lothar adjusted his posture and held his arm out to the young royal. “Let’s get inside. You ought to rest before tomorrow. I’ll call on your maid to see to your needs, alright?”

Devyn flashed a weak smile and slid her arm into his. “Thank you, Lothar.”

Once inside, Lothar sent a pageboy to summon Katrin to meet Devyn in her quarters. She arrived just as they did, holding a tray of steaming broth and a large chunk of bread. The maid followed Devyn into her small study on the other side of the sitting room which housed a delicate looking desk and chair on one side, and a dinette set on the other where she often took breakfast.

Katrin set the tray on the table and pulled out a chair for Devyn, “I’ll turn down your bed and leave you to rest for the night.”

“Thank you,” Devyn said as she sat down.

“I’ll be back early tomorrow morning to help you get ready unless you need me sooner. Just ring for me and I’ll be here right away.” Katrin added.

Devyn nodded. She had a feeling that Katrin was as anxious as she was about Aristea’s funeral the following day.

Katrin left the room and Devyn listened to her work in her bedroom as she stared down at the bowl of amber liquid before her, not really seeing it. She could feel the dread for the next day building within her. Her stomach felt like it had been twisted into knots, and she wasn’t sure if she’d be able to get even a spoonful of broth down, let alone the bread that came with it. Still, she knew she needed to try if nothing else than for Katrin, who’d been thoughtful enough to bring it to her.

The woman popped her head into the study a few moments later as Devyn was kneading a scrap of the bread into a ball. “Everything is ready, Your Highness. Try to rest tonight. Don’t worry about the tray, someone will come for it in the morning.”

She vanished out of the doorway and left the suite quietly, leaving Devyn to her dinner. She sat for a while longer, picking at her meal, before abandoning it entirely. She changed into a long night dress and climbed into bed, staring out her window at the deep blue of the night sky. There were no clouds in sight, and the half-moon glowed bright, casting a silvery light into the room. Devyn stared, unblinking, at the orb until her eyes became blurry with tears. Finally, she closed her eyes, letting warm drops fall down her cheeks, and fell into a sleep full of dreams of the clearing in the woods she called home and her mother’s smiling face.

The next day went by in a blur. Devyn greeted those she was told to and accepted the condolences of so many people that she lost count. She quickly grew tired of hearing herself say the same words of thanks over and over.

The ceremony within the temple was a chance for Devyn to catch her breath a bit. She sat next to her grandmother in the front row of pews that had been brought in just after sunrise that morning, fixing her gaze on her mother’s closed coffin. She only half heard the words of the Master Sage who performed the ceremony. He dedicated Aristea’s soul to the gods, praying that she would find peace in their presence. After that, Queen Valda got up and spoke a bit about her daughter, recalling her spirited nature and her gentle heart.

At the end of her speech, six guards came up to the casket and Devyn noticed that they were the same men who had escorted them to the palace the day Aristea fell ill, Lothar included. They picked it up and solemnly carried it outside; Devyn had to blink back the tears that threatened to fall.

Devyn had assumed that watching the internment that followed would be the hardest part of the day, but she was wrong. The hardest part was leaving the cemetery without her mother. She clenched her fists until she felt her nails pierce her skin to keep from sobbing as she and Valda climbed inside their carriage to return to the palace.

The queen looked at her granddaughter as the carriage pulled away and inhaled a trembling breath. “You’ve done very well my dear, it’s almost over now.” Devyn nodded, not trusting herself to be able to speak without crying.

She went through the motions at dinner, the great hall filled with nobles and dignitaries from the surrounding kingdoms watching her closely. She felt like a fish in a bowl. Finally, finally, the dessert was served. With it, Queen Valda delivered her thanks to all who had attended, ending the formal portion of the gathering.

Thus, allowed to move freely, Devyn stood to flee back to her quarters. She didn’t get more than a step in when a man came up to the head table where she was seated with the queen and bowed deeply. Her fingers curled into fists, and she remained still.

“Your Majesty, my most heartfelt condolences,” he said, his voice smooth.

Valda nodded, “Thank you Lord Torende. Your sympathy is appreciated.”

The man turned toward Devyn and inclined his head to her, “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance Your Highness. I only wish it were under less solemn circumstances.”

Devyn gave a stiff smile in response, “Likewise, sir.”

Valda turned and cut in, “Devyn dear, this is Gunther Dietrich, Duke of Torende. He is one of my vassals here. Although he has been away for some time tending to the affairs of his territory.”

“I see. I trust all is well within your lands now, Your Grace?” Devyn asked.

“Indeed. My son Rainart is old enough now to lend a hand in the running of Torende, and he is doing very well. He will make an excellent vassal to this Court one day,” the duke said.

Devyn nodded along, hoping she looked agreeable enough while the man and her grandmother continued their small talk. She felt so very tired. All she wanted to do was sleep.

The Duke of Torende at last said his goodbyes, allowing Devyn the chance to escape from the great hall. She all but ran the entire way to her suite and didn’t even bother to change her clothes before collapsing into her bed. Her last thought before giving herself over to sleep was how she hoped that she would sleep for a long, long time. It seemed the only way to escape the yawning pit inside her where her heart used to be.