Page 5 of Once the Skies Fade

Pulling my blade away from his neck, I quickly sheathed it at my belt. With a quick nod to the door, I gestured for Tanner to prepare to leave, but I didn’t turn away from Mr. Marstens yet. Instead, I reached across the bar and retrieved a second glass, pouring a bit of the liquor into each as I asked, “Did Raven happen to say where she was going?”

Reluctantly Mr. Marstens took the drink I nudged in his direction and nodded. “Believe I saw her jot some mention of Holsham down in her note, but I doubt she’d still be there now.”

“Convenient,” I muttered to myself, before downing the barely adequate drink and setting the glass back down. With a final rap of my fingers atop the blood-splattered bar, I said, “Thank you for your honesty. And for the note. I’ll see that Her Highness receives it.”

Chapter 3

Calla

The clock still ticked by the loathsome hours of my tormented life. By the second day, my tears no longer spilled. Dried up and gone, just like my husband. And my parents.

Around and around my thoughts swirled in a perpetual tempest of misery and grief.

What had I done to deserve such anguish?

Was I being punished for having darkness in my veins?

Had I somehow angered the stars? Had they cursed me, stolen away everyone I loved?

Not that it mattered why my family had died. These answers—even if I could find them—could never fill the emptiness their deaths had left behind.

Empty.

Broken.

Alone, though not truly.

Isa and Graham tried to console me, as if that was possible. They encouraged me to eat, though my stomach insisted on remaining as empty as my heart. They urged me to describe what had happened, but I couldn’t bring myself to say the words—or any others. By the fourth day, they ceased all attempts to coax me into speaking.

For six days I didn’t speak at all, because drowning myself in silence seemed fitting after Brennan had drowned in his own blood.

Stars, his blood.

It was all I saw when I closed my eyes. I couldn’t picture his smile or the mischievous glint in his hazel eyes. His final ragged breaths were all I heard. I couldn’t recall his hearty laugh or his tender voice. Nor could I remember the loving touch of his hands. Mere days had passed, and I was already forgetting him. But maybe that was the one blessing in all of this. Perhaps my mourning wouldn’t be so hard or last so long if I forgot the little pieces of him that made him mine.

Isa burst into my room without a word and without a glance toward where I sat on the floor against the wall, my legs stretched out in front of me. I winced with each hammering step of her riding boots against the wooden floors as she made her way to the windows. Brazenly, she yanked open the curtains, and I slammed my eyes closed. Had I the strength, I would have summoned my shadows to block the harsh sunlight that poured in, but the self-imposed lack of movement and sustenance had left me weak.

My general stalked back over to me and nudged my foot with the toe of her boot. Tilting my chin up, I slitted my eyes against the light to look at her as best I could. She wasn’t wearing her normal attire, instead having donned her leather armor and traveling cloak.

“You don’t have to speak, Calla, but I do expect you to bathe,” she said, and as if on cue, two handmaids entered. They didn’t meet my gaze as they approached me on either side, knelt down, and hooked their arms around mine. I had no energy to resist them as they gently hoisted me up and guided me to the bathingchamber where they lowered me into a chair before bustling about to prepare the bath.

Isa posted herself at the doorway, and though I didn’t look at her—my vision instead remaining unfocused on the floor in front of me—I could sense her studying me. My lips twitched as I tried to force myself to care enough to speak to her, to ask her what was happening, but death had robbed me of all feeling.

I simply didn’t care.Couldn’tcare.

“I know you don’t want to do this,” Isa said, pausing as if waiting to see if I would look at her. I didn’t. “But unfortunately, we need you to at least attend. There are already rumors swirling about—rumors that must be put to rest before they get out of hand—and if you are not there, it will only make things worse. It will be hard, I know, but I will be with you every step of the way.”

Confusion tightened my chapped lips and drew my brows together as I finally turned to face my friend. Kneeling beside me, she gently gripped my hand in hers and spoke patiently.

“King Durand requested his son be buried on his family’s property, so we will ride for Emeryn this morning for the burial in two days.”

Burial. Buried. Emeryn. Two days. So soon.

My whole body tensed, and panicked sobs began to build in my chest.

No.

I shoved them back, suffocating them beneath a mask of numb resilience and bitter determination. Breaking down would do no one any good. It was better to seem the cold, distant widow in mourning than appear weak and incapable of ruling my kingdom.

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