I opened my senses to them and almost wished I hadn’t. All I tasted was a nearly overwhelming mixture of thick concern and fear-coated dread. Their drawn features mirrored what they felt—twisting faces of those most likely only in their second or third decades of life. Mortals who had lived so many years under the Ascended’s rule.
They slowed and then stopped, staring in silence as we rode past. Their gazes pressed upon me, and a few in the crowd were so worried that they projected their emotions, thickening the air around us. I managed to close down my senses.
After spending so many years forbidden to be looked upon and veiled, I still wasn’t used to this. To being seen. Every muscle in my body felt as if it would start twitching under so many open stares, and it took all my effort not to start squirming.
I didn’t smile as I looked down at them. Not because I worried that I looked foolish—which would’ve concerned me in any other situation—but because it didn’t seem right when none looked me directly in the eye, either out of fear or uncertainty.
None except a small child toward the edge of the group.
The young girl’s gaze met mine, her cheek resting on what I assumed was her father’s shoulder. I wondered what she saw. A stranger? A scarred Queen? A face that would haunt her sleep? Or did she see a liberator? A possible friend? Hope? I watched the mother, who walked close to the two, place her hand on the little girl’s back, and then I wondered if that was why they’d taken this risk. Because they wanted a different future for their daughter.
“Poppy,” Emil warned quietly, drawing my attention. I slowed Setti.
Farther down, a man had stepped away from a pale-faced woman who held a boy barely reaching the waist of her cream, woolen coat.
“Please. I mean no harm,” the man spoke thickly, words spilling from his trembling lips in a rush. “M-my name is Ramon. We just had a Rite. Less than a week ago,” he said. My stomach clenched as he glanced at Kieran and then Emil. “They took our second son. His name is Abel.”
My stomach tightened even further. Rites were held at the same time throughout Solis—when they actually took place. Sometimes years and even decades passed between them. That was why second sons and daughters were given to the Court at varying ages. The same as the third-born, who were given to the Priests and Priestesses. I had never known two Rites to be held within the same year.
“Abel…he would be with the others. In the Temple of Theon,” the man continued. “We couldn’t get to them before we left.”
Understanding dawned. Knowing what he feared, what many others in this group likely feared, as well, I found my voice. “We will not besiege the Temples.”
The man’s relief was so potent, it broke through my shields, tasting of spring rain. A shudder rocked the man and echoed in my heart. “If…if you see him— He’s only a babe, but he has hair like mine, and brown eyes just like his momma.” His gaze darted between the three of us as he shrugged off the strap of a sack and tore it open.
I lifted a hand, stilling Emil as he went to withdraw his sword. Unaware, Ramon dug around in the sack. “M-my name is Ramon,” he repeated. “His momma’s name is Nelly. He knows our names. I know that sounds silly, but I swear to the gods he does. Can you give him this?” He pulled out a fluff of stuffed, brown fur. A small, floppy teddy bear. Leaving the sack on the ground, he approached, nervously glancing at Kieran and Emil, who tracked his every movement. “Can you give this to him? So he can have it until we can come back for him? Then he’ll know we haven’t left him.”
His request burned my eyes and stole my breath as I took the floppy bear. “Of course,” I whispered.
“T-thank you.” He clasped his hands together and bowed, backing up. “Thank you, Your Highness.”
Your Highness…
It sounded different coming from the mortal. Almost like a benediction. I looked down at the bear, its fur patchy but soft. The black button eyes were stitched tightly. It smelled of lavender.
I wasn’t their Queen.
I wasn’t an answer to their prayers because those prayers should’ve been answered a long time before me.
“Diana,” someone yelled from behind Ramon, and my head jerked up. “Our second daughter. Diana. They took her during the Rite, months ago. She’s ten years old. Can you tell her we haven’t left her? That we’ll be waiting for her?”
“Murphy and Peter,” another shouted. “Our sons. They took them both in the last two Rites.”