Of Whispers and Daggers ✓ [TLRQ #2]

Chapter 64 - Leavi

Shava returns to her place in front of me, and Riszev's Aunt Varziy leans over to murmur something soft and sincere in Retran. Shava presses two fingers to her lips, like half of their salute, and just holds them there for a moment. Varziy's eyes drift closed as she repeats the gesture, and I pull my shawl tighter. My heart trembles watching the two strangers mourn. Even so, I'm grateful Shava asked me to stand with their party.

Queen Selenia takes the center of the courtyard. Her clear tone rings over the crowd, but all I hear is the shuffling of feet, the muffled cries of mourners, the voice of a child. The lively wind whispers through us all, and I drink in every bit of it I can. For what time I've been awake these last twenty-four hours, my mind has been stuck on what-ifs. What if I hadn't come, or Riszev hadn't come, or if Vihnzeirre hadn't come and then left me? Would we still have broken the siege? Would we both be alive? Would she stand here in my place?

But this isn't about me or my imagination or what could have been. Today is about what is. We mourn the price, but we do not reject the gift. They bought us life and freedom and hope.

I drink in the wind.

They light a fire for the soldiers and wizards. Not to burn them on, but to remember them by. Here in the courtyard of the Queen's pyre, with the whole castle present, these men and women receive the respect of royals.

Across the flames, Aster shifts, head down. The wind tossels his hair, and he sways gently with it, almost like he can't find an equilibrium. But who could expect him to? Who could fault him for standing ragged and worn after the storm of the last month? After losing so many people, after seeing his hometown made a battle ground, after injury and treachery and slander, he stands. No matter the condition, no matter the scars, the prince still stands among his people.

Selenia has the musicians play for the dead soldiers and wizards just like they did for Riszev and the Queen. Aster's eyes flick toward the music, and I see his face in full for the first time since we entered the tunnel. His cheeks are thin, eyes hollowed out, but grief softens the edges of his features. He may stand, but I wonder how often he stands alone.

The music ends, and everyone's heads drop in respectful silence. After a moment, Queen Selenia comes forward again and starts talking about compensation for the families of all those lost. She calls Varziy forward and presents her with a gleaming sword. Her voice rings too smoothly amidst the broken crowd. "For the family of Princesse Consort Riszev, this gift will be the first recompense of many in Morineaux, the beginning—"

Varziy pushes the sword back. Selenia jerks as if burnt by the metal.

Words thick, Varziy says, "We do not want. She was not hired soldier, not slave. She was daughter and hero. We take no money for her."

She turns and walks through our party as the Queen stares at her slack-jawed. The four guards fall in behind her, and Shava folds the hands of her robe as she leaves as well. I glance, flustered, at Aster, but he's not watching.