It was not as if the hall had not been cleaned. In fact, it looked much like it had before Ravena’s attack, minus the mirrors I had destroyed, but that was just it. I could not exist in this space and not think about the horror of what had happened—where I had landed after my father had pushed me down the stairs, where I had been when he had tried to convince me that dying would be worth the honor of having saved a world that cared nothing for me.

Then I felt Ana’s hand in mine, and when I looked at her, she seemed just as sad.

“It’s all right,” she said, her voice hushed, as if she did not wish to disturb the nightmares that lingered there. Perhaps she feared they might come alive too. “I am with you.”

I took a deep breath and walked with her down the hall, my hand tightening the farther we walked. I did not let go until we were in the council room, and even then, I think I would have held on had it not been for Adrian, who seemed to be trained to find me the moment I entered a room.

Ana released my hand just as Adrian extended his, an invitation to join him at the head of the oval table around which the men had gathered, among them his usual advisors, Daroc, Sorin, and Tanaka, and his remaining noblesse, Razan, Iosif, Vlad, and Iker. When they realized I was present, they rose, bowing, and despite our earlier argument, I went to Adrian.

When my fingers touched his palm, his closed around mine.

“My queen,” he said, pressing his lips to my skin.

His frustration had ebbed since we parted, and while mine had not, I could not deny the comfort his touch brought after walking through the hall and seeing the bodies in the sanctuary. There was a part of me that wanted to collapse in his arms and cry, but I couldn’t, not here in front of these men who likely would not listen to me without Adrian by my side. I hated the thought that these people might value me more for apathy, which would certainly be misinterpreted as strength, rather than my grief.

I felt Adrian’s fingers beneath my chin, and as he tilted my head back, he kissed the corner of my mouth.

“How are you feeling?” he breathed, a quiet question meant only for me to hear.

“Mournful,” I said, and once more I felt the emotion building in the back of my throat. I had not anticipated this—to feel so much so keenly in this moment.