Midnight Moon

Epilogue - A Crown Restored

The crown was heavy on her head, cold against her brow. It was large and bejewelled, and it was not hers. Likewise, her eyes knew the room around her as the palace she had spent her whole life in, but it was jarring and alien and not hers.

"It's weird to see you in a dress."

Veanna turned as Neyerith approached, wiping away her black expression and rolling her eyes. "Thanks," she said dryly, though her voice was quiet. She smoothed out the flowing green skirts of her gown, the golden embellishments catching the light and making the embroidered flowers appear to be growing towards her hips.

"To be fair, I have seen you in a dress before, but you were a child then." A gentle smile replaced his usual broad grin, and his velvet clothes did not hide the limp that tugged at his step, but he somehow turned it into a swagger. "You looked like a cute little doll." He pinched her cheek and she allowed herself a small smile as she pushed his hand away.

"Again, thanks," she muttered. Her smile lingered, and it did not feel like a chore or a crime as it had often become - of anyone, Neyerith understood her grief. In the few hollow weeks since they had been in the crypts, he battled to keep her spirits up, and she was immeasurably grateful for the reprieve from guilt he brought her.

They may have averted disaster, but her world had not been saved.

"That's big on you, too," he said, nodding to the crown.

One of her hands fluttered up to brush its jewels and spires. "It does feel quite over the top." In the days to come, she would be able to wear something smaller and lighter, but not today. Her coronation was a day for ceremony and embellishment.

"Still looks fabulous on you, though, Pri-" Neyerith's face fell. "I can't call you Princess anymore."

"What are you going to do?" a sarcastic voice called from the doorway. Tia had swapped her usual leather clothes for a smart tunic and breeches, the same as Calu who trotted behind her. Like all the palace staff and many beyond the palace's walls, they dressed in grey to share Veanna's and her mother's grief.

"How about Queenie?" Neyerith suggested.

Veanna grimaced. "Please, no."

"Aren't you supposed to say, 'Your Majesty'?" Calu pointed out.

Neyerith raised his eyebrows. "Aren't you supposed to say, 'My Lord'?"

"Not yet." Tia strode over, resting a hand on Veanna's arm and looking warmly into her eyes. The only evidence of the Outlander's tattoos were the tips of vines curling up her neck, yet Veanna knew that those on her torso had spread since the night of the solstice, now intertwined with faint lightning scars. "We should be going; we just wanted to wish you luck."

Veanna gave another smile that was tight but real. "Thank you. I'll see you all later."

Tia nodded and gripped Neyerith's arm, pulling him back towards the door with Calu in their wake. "Come on, my Lord."

"Say it again; you'll make me shiver," Neyerith replied mischievously, and as the three of them disappeared from view, Veanna heard a yelp of pain.

It was quiet in their absence, though servants bustled around her. Veanna rubbed her forehead, already exhausted, but aware she had to get through this day with a brave face. She wondered briefly whether it felt strange to the servants to be wearing their mourning clothes again so soon after the Day of Ashes.

The thought sent her mind tumbling back in grief, the pain slamming into her like a punch to the gut. She closed her eyes, but only saw her father's face sinking as his life drained away. She could hear his last whisper of, "I'm sorry," and feel the arm that had held her shoulders go limp as he slumped against the coffin.