Page 218 of The Throne Seeker
Forced to find strength in softness,
It finds itself blooming in disaster.
The cursed beauty will no longer be used,
the rose-colored glass shatters.
At last, summer is here to stay.
When summer comes, you’ll be
near the shores of high-rising tides,
feasting in grand halls under pale moonlight.
When summer comes, you’ll be
Dancing in a sea of orange hues
And playing in pearl granules.
When summer comes
When summer comes
When summer comes
Rose’s last note faded as the queen’s hand went limp in hers, and her aura faded until it was nonexistent.
Queen Lenna was gone.
The last thread that’d been holding everyone together broke—slicing their souls into a thousand pieces.
The king’s anguish was indescribable, suffocating Rose’s bleeding heart from every angle. His broad shoulders trembled uncontrollably as he sobbed. With his eyes squeezed shut, he grasped his beloved’s hand, kissing it before bringing it to his forehead.
It was what Rose imagined it would be like to lose Roman.
She shrunk from it, taking a step back. It was unbearable, as though a part of him was dying alongside her—she supposed it was. Tears of empathy streamed from her eyes, absorbing everyone’s grief; she had no idea how to turn it off.
She wanted to escape—flee from it. But she wouldn’t leave Roman, not now.
Roman’s face twisted in pain as silent tears ran down his cheeks, leaning his forehead into his palms. His aura hit her in a different way than the others. Magnified. Excruciating.
She couldn’t stand the distance any longer.
Rose knelt before him, wrapping her arms around his strong shoulders, trying to absorb his pain. He clung to her without a moment’s hesitation, his hands gripping her dress. He burrowed his face in the curve of her neck, his tears soaking her shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered so low only he could hear. “I’m so, so sorry.”
He gripped her tighter. “Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you for doing that for her.”
Rose didn’t look to see if Tristan was watching; right now, she really didn’t care.
Xavier helped serve as a distraction. “We should tell the servants,” he announced softly. “They’ll take her and prepare her for the ceremony.”
“Not yet,” the king said through tears. “I need one last moment with my wife—alone.”
His tortured tone was so piercing, they all respected his wishes.
