Page 7

The guards escorted her along the edge of the Plaza to an area barricaded at the back. As she stepped into the small, empty area, Thicket felt like she could finally breathe again.

That was until she turned to see the giant wooden obelisk. It sat on top of a raised platform positioned amidst a bed of flowers. Thicket’s heart twisted at the sight of the small etchings running the length of the obelisk’s face, marking the names of all those who had fallen during Lavender’s last attack.

A hand fell on her shoulder, forcing her eyes away from the obelisk. “I will make the introductions,” Caspian said. “When I announce you, you will approach and light the obelisk. That is it. Marcellus will escort you back here while everyone lays their torches at the base. You are welcome to stay if you like, or return home. It is entirely up to you.”

Thicket nodded, wringing her hands to dispel as much of the electricity sparking inside her as she could. Past the platform, hundreds of people were crammed together, waiting for the ceremony to start. The cacophony of their voices and the knowledge that very soon she would stand before hundreds of eyes made her head swim.

Caspian lay a hand on her shoulder. “Breathe, Miss Vogeli. You will do just fine.” With one last reassuring pat, he ducked back into the crowd, leaving Thicket alone with Marcellus—and the memory of all those she had failed.

Her legs were thin, shaky twigs ready to give out at any second. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t even move, let alone face the crowd. What expressions would they be wearing when she stepped out onto that platform? Would they be devastated, like the day she had returned from Spindlewood Forest to see an alley full of bodies? Would they be angry, like the aftermath of Lavender’s last attack? Or would it be a mixture of both, only this time, directed at her?

The corset pressed against her ribcage. She couldn’t breathe. Her lungs were already too full, too tight. The corners around her eyes blurred.

A light flashed in the corner of her vision.

She spun, breath catching on a gasp. A single torchlight waved from the crowd. The middle was a deep red, while the edges flickered orange. Fire.

One by one, more torches were lit, orange and red and a sprinkle of yellow, until the entire crowd was a sea of light. She had never seen so many combinations of fire colors. People pointed up at the sky where small flecks of ash had taken flight, mingling with one another and making the dim, twilight lit Plaza look enchanted. They smiled and laughed and pressed close to one another. It wasn’t an exuberant joy, and while it may have been tinged with sorrow, it was not extinguished by it.

Thicket’s chest slowly loosened. Tonight wasn’t about her. It wasn’t about her lack of memories or the ways in which she had failed. It was about coming together to commemorate those who had given their life to protect Vindrya and remember why they kept fighting.

“Princess?”

Thicket glanced over to find Marcellus staring at her, forehead creased ever so slightly.

She blinked. Was that… concern she heard in his voice? She tried to decipher it, but the longer she looked at him, the more it ebbed into the familiar lines of frustration. “I’m fine! Just… Got lost in thought.”

“Well, you’d better make yourself unlost,” he said, casting his gaze out into the crowd. Nearly everyone had a lit torch now. The flickering lights wound along the bend in the streets fanning out from the Plaza until she could no longer see around the buildings.

It was then Caspian’s voice sounded from somewhere on the platform. Thicket knotted her fingers together, squeezing until they turned white.

“Nervous?” Marcellus asked.

Thicket tucked her hands behind her back in an effort to still them. “Is it that obvious?”

“Yes,” Marcellus replied without hesitation.

She scowled, leaning forward to put her face in his. “You’re supposed to do the kind thing and lie to make me feel better.”

Marcellus huffed. “I don’t believe in kind lies. Besides,” he said, lightly shoving her head away. “I won’t let you fall.”

She batted his hand and smoothed the frizzy strands. “And if I set the whole place on fire?”

The corner of his lips ticked upward. “Then you’re on your own.”

Thicket rolled her eyes. But the tension that had been eating away at her dissipated.

“I will now ask Princess Thicket Rose Vogeli to come forth and begin the lighting of the Pyre.” The sound of her name rang in Thicket’s ears.

Her time had come.

She swallowed. The apple Marcellus had given her churned in her gut, yet she had to admit it steadied her just the slightest as she stepped onto the platform. The crowd instantly hushed. All eyes were trained on her, watchful and expectant and dare she even say a bit reverent.

This was the power of royalty. She wanted to be deserving of it. Wanted to be the kind of ruler that people could put their hopes and faith in.

She wanted to be the opposite of Lavender.

Sucking in a deep breath, Thicket placed her hand against the obelisk. The flesh of her palm sunk into the grooves. She closed her eyes, letting the names of the fallen carve their memory onto her skin—and in her heart.