Garrett stands and motions for us to sit beside him. I want to ask if he’s sure that we’re allowed at the front, but Forelle lowers herself into the seat.
He leans forward and meets my eyes with a frown. “Zea, I heard about what happened. Are you alright?”
I’m too nervous to do anything but nod. Garrett’s gaze flicks somewhere over my shoulder, and I turn around to see who will occupy the seat next to mine.
Two figures stand in the gap between the nearest column. An usher, and Prince Kevon, who wears a white naval jacket with silver buttons and trim that contrast with his dark skin and hair. My breath catches as he walks toward me, but when he lowers himself in the seat next to mine, the tight bands of tension around my chest loosen.
I clutch his hand and resist the urge to kiss him.
“Thank you for coming.” His eyes soften, and a wistful smile curls his lips that melts away all my doubts. “It means so much to me, considering everything my mother has done to sabotage us.”
I want to tell him that I would stay at his side forever, when a chorus of male voices echoes through the chamber. The sounds are so deep and resonant that my bones vibrate. I glance around to find figures in white standing in the spaces between the pillars.
Prince Kevon explains that the Devotees of Gaia are also direct descendants of Gabriel Phan, the man who founded Phangloria. He gestures at an older man at the top of the stairs wearing a silver robe that shimmers in the moonlight and says he is the Hierophant, who will preside over the funeral.
When the voices fade into whispered echoes, the Hierophant tells us not to weep for King Arias because Gaia will welcome him into her celestial garden and reward him for restoring the earth.
A lump forms in the back of my throat. Even though I don’t believe in an earth goddess, these words are more comforting than the urn of ashes bereaved Harvesters receive on their doorsteps.
Next, the Hierophant invites those in the front row to climb the steps and pay their last respects to the king. He walks through what appears to be a passageway that extends to the left beyond the stone stairs, and everybody, including Forelle, rises.
Prince Kevon takes my hand. “I want my father to meet you.”
My insides twist into knots. Garrett brought Forelle to the front row because he’s going to marry her. There’s no doubt how everyone in the temple will interpret my presence.
“Alright.” I rise to my feet, and whispers spread across the seats behind us.
Queen Damascena pauses at the foot of the stairs and stares straight into my eyes with a gaze that burns with determination. She nods as though to say I might have won her son today, but she will never allow me to become the queen.
Clenching my jaw, I match her stare with equal heat. Once the Hierophant lays King Arias to rest, the power she holds over Phangloria will wane.
Prince Kevon’s hand slides down my back. “Are you alright?”
I turn to him with a tiny smile. “Let’s meet your father.”
The queen ascends the stairs and glances at something with pitiless eyes before turning to the Hierophant. Whatever he says to her makes her lips tighten, and she walks past him and down another set of back stairs. Next is Lady Circi, who says a few words to King Arias before speaking to the Hierophant, and after that is the man I assume is Garrett’s father, who steps up with the Noble girl.
“Doesn’t Garrett have a mother?” I whisper.
Prince Kevon’s features still. “It’s complicated.”
I nod as we ascend the steps. It’s common for women to die in childbirth, although I thought medical technology would help Noble women to survive. My chest tightens as I think about Vitelotte and her family. I’ve also been so busy with recent events that I haven’t even asked anyone what happened to the Wintergreens.
Garrett and Forelle speak to King Arias next. His arm is firmly around her waist, and Forelle’s eyes unfocus as though she’s about to faint. She bobs into a curtsey, and Garrett steers her toward the Hierophant.
My pulse pounds a rapid beat in my ears, and the sensation of crawling centipedes seizes my stomach. This is worse than standing between two gliders above an unfathomable drop. I glance over my shoulder at hundreds of people whose gazes fix on my back.
At any moment, one of the spectators could aim a weapon at me and shoot. I’ve amassed more enemies than I can count, and those who might have once supported me now think I’ve convinced Prince Kevon to imprison families for the merest infraction.
Clenching my stomach muscles, I inhale the chamber’s resin-scented air and try not to think that they’re using it to mask the smell of a corpse. Garrett and Forelle finish with the Hierophant, and it’s our turn.
I lace my fingers with Prince Kevon’s and force myself to stand strong at his side as an equal, someone who will support him through the difficult times ahead, and not a weak farm girl who constantly needs rescuing.
“Are you ready?” I murmur.
He turns to me with a tight smile and nods.
“Let’s go.” I take the next step up the stairs.
At the top, we turn left and continue down a short walkway toward the Hierophant, a short man in his sixties, who smiles at us with compassionate eyes. He might have descended from Gabriel Phan, but the deep lines around his eyes remind me of old, retired Harvester men.
The Hierophant steps aside, giving us space to approach the body, which lies in an alcove.
King Arias looks nothing like the dying man I saw in the hidden room. Whoever prepared him has removed the dark capillaries, evened out his sunken cheeks, and added back the beard. White disks, painted
