54 The Funeral XIV (2/2)

To her credit, Gisela was only terribly shocked by the Queen's words, not flustered by them. Smiling past her confusion, she asked, ”Have I been giving that impression, Queen? I mean no offense, I'm afraid that's not how it is at all.”

”Is it not?” Queen Heloise replied, echoing Gisela's tone. ”Next time you're in that boy's company, I'll be sure to lend you a mirror. Ah, I should gift it to you instead, shouldn't I?”

A heavy silence followed. ”Playing the game” or not, ”don't give them the reaction they want” or not, Hilde had been one breath away from blowing her top off when she found there was absolutely no need for her to step in.

”I would be happy to receive that, Queen Heloise,” said Gisela with a small, pleasant smile. ”I didn't think you knew we have almost no mirrors in Nelke – Mother really hates them, you see. Oh, but you must already know that too.”

Lady Ilse did not look at her daughter, but her approval radiated from her very pores.

”You seem tired, Queen,” she followed solicitously, a frown marring her still-youthful forehead. ”Do you need a nap? There's time yet, I think.”

It took all of Hilde's control not to explode in laughter. It would take a woman of Lady Ilse's caliber to suggest with a straight face that her monarch was acting like a toddler.

However, Hilde knew that deep down, these were sincere excuses both mother and daughter were giving themselves for their precious family member's behavior.

The Queen's past actions towards her younger sister aside, Hilde too was unsure whether this new attitude on display for everyone to see was a temporary ”acting out” due to grief or if it was the first signs of a dam of hatred collapsing. Hilde didn't know whether or not she should speak to them of her suspicions. She certainly didn't expect they'd simply believe her out of hand.

Once again, the Queen's smile that did not reach her eyes appeared. ”No need,” she said, getting to her feet with the suave assistance of two of her attendants. ”We should get on with the rites instead.” She heaved a short sigh. ”Then home, and true rest.”

At her signal, the closing part of the royal funeral commenced. It was not strictly necessary to wait for dusk on account of the changing daylight hours throughout the year, but the nights were becoming longer again, and everyone assumed they'd wait for twilight this time around.

Certainly, for the families of the other fallen now also gathering around their dead, if they could have waited even longer than that, they would have. What comes last was too final. All across the line, the fresh flow of tears and the broken cries of pure anguish started and intensified.

Rested yet wearier, the Prince's Guards who would be disbanded after this day took up their stations again. This time, it was only the coffins they lifted and brought into the white mausoleum, whose doors had finally been thrown wide open. First inside was Prince Dieter, the only royal among the five to be sealed inside the royal tombs.

As she followed, Hilde wept with the others, but silently, and – still – not for the blood brother she'd lost. The Prince, with the four soldiers that would join him, was brought to the wing that housed first-rank princes and princesses. On the way to the tombs of black marble prepared for him and his men, they passed the one that held the remains of Prince Johann. Lady Ilse looked towards it with sorrow and longing, but she did not stop.

There were no more words or other ceremonies, just the raw necessity of letting go. Prince Dieter was the first to be lowered into his tomb. His family stood to either side, looking at his face as long as they might before the heavy lid was pushed completely into place, leaving him to the dark and to his eternal rest.

At the final click, Hilde began to turn around. Lothar's tomb was just behind her; this was the chance she had been waiting for – the one window she'd been counting on. Her obligation to family was over, wasn't it? Surely no one could have begrudged her this last glimpse…

Before she could even complete a quarter turn, Hilde was engulfed within a hard embrace. She couldn't move, not because she couldn't have broken away if she tried, but because she'd trapped herself into not offering any resistance.

Would a ”proper” princess do anything except give comfort to a woman crying on her shoulder? When that woman also happened to be your sister and your monarch, there was no question, you're expected to set aside your personal concerns no matter how heart-wrenching and desperate they might also be.

Did the Queen know Hilde was purposely trying to build up her image? Well, she might not know that it's on purpose, but witnessing it happening anyway would hardly make her happy. For years, her sister had done her level best to suppress anything good Hilde might become. What neglect couldn't accomplish, sabotage had fixed, because if Hilde were not a self-absorbed oddball that no one would take seriously, then she was another threat.

It was truly a wonder her relationship with Lothar had continued as long as it had. She supposed that that was Lord Alfwin exerting his own influence and, perhaps, her brother as well, as the Lord General had claimed.

Hilde heard the second lid slide into place. So did the Queen. She promptly released her.

It was a good thing she'd already been shedding fake tears before then. Hilde completed her interrupted turn to find a solid slab sealing in her teacher.

Would these sacrifices ever prove to be worth it in the end? She smiled bitterly as she wept. Which particular ”end” was she even referring to? The dreams she had as Hilde? The objective, whose completion might simply spell her swift death in this life as well? The discovery of her true identity and of the reason she seemed destined to go through hell again and again?

Just who was the motherf*cker that signed her up for this?

The last slab slid into place. People began to stream out of the tombs soon after, but Hilde didn't move from where she was. It took her a long time to acknowledge the female presence that had been with her since earlier. It was neither Gisela nor her attendant, she found. Surprising her even in the state she was in, Hilde saw that it was Sieglind.

”Here,” she said, offering her something in her outstretched arm. In her wide palm, Hilde found a single flower, white petals looking impossibly perfect around its bright, golden center. ”It's Lothar's. I kept one for you.”

”You tried to tell me earlier,” said Hilde.

Eyes long since dry, she reached out and took the flower. Hilde got a good look at Sieglind's hand at the same time, and what she found there explained so much. Among these was the reason she'd been feeling an undercurrent of competition running between the two of them from the time they first met.

The older woman smiled. ”Here between our brothers, who were sworn to each other, allow me to say, Princess: someday, I hope we too might call each other Sister.”

”Not sister-in-law.”

”No. Not that.”

Their eyes met. And though there never was and probably never will be an instantaneous understanding between them, they too had an undeniable connection. Hilde held out her hand and soon, two rough yet gentle hands were gripping each other.

”Someday soon, I hope.”

The women, both tall and athletically built, with one dark in coloring and one light to the point of paleness, made a striking picture as they emerged together from the mausoleum. It was too bad that few eyes had noticed it because all around, there was a rising sense of pandemonium.

”Is it…”

”A riot downhill. Probably.”

”For the Lyseans?”

”My bet's for the Queen.”

”Could be both.”

”How soon were you hoping for, Princess?”

”Not 'two seconds from now,' Sieglind. Trust me, not this soon...”