But somewhere in the second hour of our trip, Etan cleared his throat.

“What were your parents’ names again?”

“What?”

“Well, you are supposedly part of the family now. Oughtn’t I know? Besides, I’m sure at least one person will need proof you are in fact a lady.”

I shook my head. “My mother was Lady Claudia Cart Brite, and my father was Lord Noor Brite. They were both descendants of long lines in Coroan aristocracy, and had they had sons, the line would be . . . going still.”

“What’s wrong?” he asked, bending to look me in the eye.

“Nothing. It’s . . . I only just realized the Brite line is dead. My parents are gone, and I’m an Eastoffe. When I was going to marry Jameson, I didn’t think about it so much. What son could give them such a gift? What son could have made them royalty? But there are no sons, and I am not queen, and it’s ended . . . because of me.”

It was one of the many deaths I couldn’t reconcile myself to. I now understood that the Darkest Knights were going to come for the Eastoffes one day whether I was with them or not. That was not the case for the rest of our company.

My parents, for instance, had been adamantly against my marrying Silas. It seemed to go even deeper than the fact he was both common and foreign, though I could never quite understand their reasoning. Whatever it was, it was enough to keep them from wanting to come to the ceremony, and had I not pleaded with them to, they might have been spared.

I felt such guilt over their deaths, guilt I couldn’t quite express because all my grief got tied up in Silas. But it was there, sharp and deep, and I had no way to make it right.

“How did all your plans to be queen come undone? It looked so painfully tied up when we came to visit,” Etan commented offhandedly.

“It did, didn’t it?” I replied in wonder. The crown had been so close. “It seems a pair of blue eyes knocked me off course.” I smiled, lost in my memories. “Jameson . . . he was an adventure. It was like a game to master or a challenge to be met. But Silas felt like destiny. He felt like the world properly centering itself. I don’t know if I have the right words for it.”

Etan shook his head. “And now that he’s gone? Would you call that destiny still?”

His tone wasn’t teasing or even unkind, but genuinely curious: What did I make of a love story that barely had a first page?

“I would. Maybe our story is bigger than us.”

He considered this. “Maybe it is.”

My voice dropped. “It doesn’t mean I don’t ache for him, though. I keep fearing I’ll forget what his eyes looked like. Or the sound of his laugh. I worry that everything will go away . . . and then I wonder whether something is wrong with me if I force myself to hold on.”