Page 113 of The Last Wish of Bristol Keats
Last, Bristol stepped forward with a pocketful of tiny stones, and pressed them into the dirt at their feet the way Cat would have done if she were there, creating their initials, LK, LK. Leanna Keats and Logan Keats. The people they tried to be.
Bristol’s throat closed as she set the last stone. She couldn’t deliver the final goodbye, so Julia stepped up for her. “Through the mists and over the golden waters to where the sun sets, the gods and Paradise await you. Go to your deserved rest, Logan and Leanna Keats.”
The winds blew in answer, a mournful whine, and Bristol wasn’t sure if it was the gods answering, or Willow, or maybe her own heart.
It was a small but fitting funeral. Bristol would remember the details, because her sisters would want to know. Cat would cry but soak in every word, especially the part about their initials, happy that they were honored, remembered, no matter where the stones were placed.
Tyghan hugged Bristol for a long while, not just for her sake but for his too. He had been to Madame Chastain’s funeral earlier, and his heart was already low. Tomorrow he had five more funerals to attend, among them Officer Perry’s and two cadets who had been minding a supply tent. They lost seventy in all and the battle was hailed as a resounding victory—except for the families who had lost loved ones, like him and Bristol. Because in the end, Madame Chastain was more than a mentor to him, and Kierus was still Tyghan’s brother. He had proven that in their last minutes together. It was going to be hard getting through these next days, but for Eris’s sake, and everyone else’s, he had to keep going. For now, he was still king, and Knight Commander.
Tyghan finally ordered the sealing stones set on the vault, and fell into step beside Bristol as they walked back down the hill.
Halfway down, she said, “I’m going home, Tyghan.”
This didn’t catch him by complete surprise. He knew she would want to break the news to her sisters. “I understand. For how long?” he asked.
“For a while.”
“What does that mean?”
“I don’t know.”
But she needed to know. A few days of mourning were expected, but everyone would be clamoring to know when she would set up court and be accepting petitioners and making the first tithe for the cauldron. It was her right and duty. “You’re the new queen of Elphame, Bristol. You can’t just leave without—”
“I’ll be gone indefinitely,” she said firmly. “My sisters need me. I’ve named Julia as my steward while I’m gone, and my squad as my officers.”
Tyghan was silent until they reached the bottom of the hill.Julia?No one in Elphame even knew who she was. Bristol was enough of an unknown—it would take days and weeks for Elphame to adjust to all the changes without adding to them. He could understand leaving for a few days, but . . . “You’ve only just become queen, Bristol. It’s an important—”
“My family is important too!” she snapped. “What’sleftof it.”
He heard the accusation in her words. That it was his fault. Maybe it was, her mother’s death at least. Tyghan had questioned the archers, just as he promised her. They confirmed there was one last Fomorian attack near the stones, and one of their own fell to an axe. Arrows flew fast, and it could have been a stray. But Bristol’s disbelief still rang in his ears.In the middle of her back?Unlikely, but Tyghan couldn’t prove it was intentional. At least not yet. Even Cully swore it was an accident, but Tyghan saw no remorse in his eyes either. Tyghan should have made his orders more clear, more imperative, not just rescinding the kill order but adding protection for Maire too.
But her father’s death, he had tried to protect Kierus, to keep him out of the council’s hands—and Kormick’s. He wouldn’t push the point now, though. Bristol was still raw, her parents freshly buried—and Maire’s death seemed like a betrayal from the world Bristol was trying to protect. “I’m sorry, Bri. I didn’t wish for your mother to die.”
“And yet she’s still dead. I need to go, Tyghan. I need time. I can’t just jump in to take care of your world when my own is shattered.”
“You’re not the only one who is hurting. I tried to keep your father safe. I—”
“You’re blaming me now? That I was the one—”
He grabbed her by the shoulders. “Hold on. Let’s both just take a breath here.” He put his arm around her, and they walked silently back to their horses. “I have to take care of a few things when we get back to the palace, but I’ll have a meal brought to your room for us, and we’ll talk more then.”
She only nodded.
Had she grasped the gravity of her new position yet? She wasn’t just under the scrutiny of many kingdoms who expected her to claim her throne now, but under the greedy eyes of many lords, like Csorba, who might seek to use her in other ways. She couldn’t leave indefinitely. She needed the protection a full court could offer.
Bristol thought about Tyghan as she walked back to her room.We’ll talk later. He couldn’t hide his disappointment at her decision, but she needed this. A touchstone to her old life. A reminder that she once existed elsewhere, as someone else. Not as a bloodmarked or a shapeshifter but as a sister. That was all. She needed Harper and Cat as much as they needed her. Their hearts all needed to heal, and she didn’t know how long it would take.
She pushed open her door, already planning her departure, but when she stepped inside, she froze. For a moment she thought she had stepped into the wrong room. It was a war zone. All of her bedding was stripped and tossed. Pillows slashed. Her wardrobe emptied out. Piles of clothes were strewn everywhere. Even her mattress lay askew, half off her bed.
Ransacked. Her room had been ransacked.
Like she was staying at a shoddy motel along a lonely highway, and someone came looking for quick cash. But she had no cash, or anything of value other than her fancy gowns, and those had been left behind, scattered everywhere.
She drew her knife and readied her other hand to summon fire. “Hello?” she called, aware that intruders could still be inside. The room remained silent. She carefully checked her bath chamber. It was ransacked too, towels, brushes, soaps scattered everywhere.
Bristol returned to her room and stared at the chaos. Complete and utter turmoil. And anger. This had been a vicious rampage. Slashed pillows? Someone had wished her head had been lying on those pillows. Why? But then she noticed one out-of-place detail that was neatly arranged. And then it was all she could see. Her heart hammered in one continuous beat as she walked toward it. Her sneakers sat alone on the middle of the breakfast table, perfectly aligned like shoes in a store window inviting you to notice them.
“No,” Bristol said, the word slipping off her tongue like a reflex. “No, no.”
