Page 191 of A Bond in Blood

But I told her no more of Ulrich. Not of his smile or his laugh. Not of his secluded beach or the maps I had drawn for him.

I did not tell her how he had brought his library back to life at my request, even if he had not admitted it. Even if he had only allowed me to silently notice the changes in the room I worked in each day.

No, I kept him locked inside of me while I attempted to wash those soft feelings I had with the hate still in my heart. I tried to re-write my memories of the man, reminding myself of the pain he inflicted for his own pleasure and gain.

When my voice had grown raw, and I was unable to speak any longer, we both fell asleep. With my head on her shoulder and her hand in mine.

The only mother I knew, repairing my broken heart with her touch. When I woke, hours later, her grip was no longer tight. Her hand, while cold when I’d fallen asleep, was now a temperature I could not describe.

A new kind of cold.

A lifeless one.

My wail echoed throughout my home. Adding to the cracks of the walls. Shattering through the air like the pain shattered through my heart.

She was gone, and I was left alone. With only memories, a candle, and an odd gold coin to accompany me.

Chapter 37

Iwalked through the halls of my home like a Ghost. Ulrich’sWraithsurrounded by a sea of people who did not understand what that title meant.

Gliding through life while the preparations for my grandmother’s final departure commenced. Busy work. Things to keep us all occupied while we mourned the loss of a great woman.

I entered my father’s great hall, finding the tables and chairs set with her favorite colors. Crimson red, her reminder of the daughter she’d lost and the daughter she’d gained. And white, the color of the white bears she adored.

I saw only blood.

“How many guests?” I asked, turning to the handmaid beside me.

She startled, then cleared her throat. “For the final journey or the dinner after?”

“The dinner,” I replied.

“Your father, your mother’s parents, the king.”

I whipped around. “What?”

She stepped back. “Theking, princess, and his wives.”

My heart dropped. “Oh.”

She eyed me nervously, continuing to list other names I did not take the energy to recognize. I waved my hand in approval of their decorations then turned away to ready myself for the farewell.

It was melancholy and surprisingly cold, while we watched the burning boat head across the Fjord. Grandmother’s trip to the Gods. A wishful hope the wind would pick up her ashes, taking her to their island in the sky. Where they would joyously return her to her younger body, and she would live out her afterlife in peace.

The village had gathered for her, to no surprise, and distant relatives arrived. I’d greeted no one, keeping myself tucked away with my black veil covering my face.

The people of the village dispersed, and the familial group returned to our palace where our meal awaited.

When I entered the great-hall, I found the seat furthest away from it all, tucked in the shadows. Refusing to sit beside my father or the family members pretending to mourn.

They had not known her. They had not understood who the woman was. The hold she had on us all. The impact she’d had onme.

I thrummed my fingers against the table when footsteps approached. Rolling my eyes, I glanced up, pausing when I found a queen before me.

I jumped to my feet. “Titania,” I whispered, bowing to her.

Oberon’s quietest wife nodded at me. I stared at her, realizing I had forgotten she would attend this meal. Her dark golden hairwas tied up into loose curls with the ends falling against the high neck of her black gown. Her still youthful brown eyes burned with golden embers.

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