Book 5: Funeral

Ingrid

I sway to an unfamiliar song as King Iraj, Prince Cirocco, and Prince Esen carry Amval’s coffin into the temple. All of them cry openly, the coffin rocking on their shoulders. Queen Zephira insisted I stand at the front, with the family, and I wish I’d disagreed harder. The whole temple is packed with people who actually knew him, nobles and staff alike, and this is just the procession. After this, there’s a meal, all the outsiders will arrive, and then it’s time for the funeral.

Joli suggested I wear a dress that showed my mark. I told her I didn’t have anything appropriate, but honestly, every time I looked at myself in the mirror, it felt like cheating. The throbbing red lightning bolt isn’t enough to put me here. I spent one night with him, and I didn’t even like him for most of it.

My eyes burn as they set him down at the front. Fuck, I didn’t even like him. He was boring, unfunny, one of a hundred stuffed shirts at a dull political eve