Thirty

                                    

                                          
The carriage rocks back and forth and its wheels crunch over the cobblestone roadway leading to the Stigian sanctuary. The plush benches and soft decorative pillows do nothing to bring me any comfort. I've sat ramrod straight with my hands folded in my lap for hours. My black mourning dress is stifling. The high neckline squeezes my throat, and the full skirt is hot and irritating against my skin. But it is the crown perched upon my head that weighs on me the most. The delicate woven iron and rubies crush me.
Borin sits across from me with his chin resting in his palm, staring out the window at the city where his husband grew up. This place is so different from the kingdom they built together. The grandeur of Stigian is a far cry from the simple beauty of Lucent. It doesn't matter how high the building or how spectacular the lights, this place will never compare to our home. With a long exhale, he shifts, and I lift my gaze from my hand. We lock eyes, neither of us saying a word. 
I have never had a reason to question his loyalty, never worried he would abandon me to find my way alone as queen. But I wonder if the horrific death of his husband will be his breaking point. It's because of me his parah lays in the horse-drawn hearse as we follow in the funeral procession. I should have never pulled Micah from the battle. I should have paid more attention. How could I miss the hawk swooping in? How could I let Micah push me out of the way? 
"It is all right to grieve, Raelle," Borin says, worry resonating in his brown eyes.
I nod and run the back of my hand over my face. "You lost your parah. I should be caring for you. I feel so helpless." A tear streaks down my cheeks. "So fucking helpless." 
Borin leans forward and pinches my chin between his thumb and index finger, forcing me to look at him. "You did not lead the Allaji into Lucent. You did not send Micah out into the battle. That was his choice. You were not the one who pierced his body. You did not kill Micah. Do you hear me? You did not kill him."
I don't know what to say to that. I didn't do those things, but it doesn't change the guilt festering inside me. The repercussions of my actions affect more than just Micah and Borin. I've upended my family. My mother and siblings ride in the carriage behind us, unable to remain in their home for fear my enemy will return to Lucent and harm them to get to me. I've left my people with the rubble after the battle and to bury our dead. But that didn't stop them from lining the roads from the Lucent palace to the Stigian border to pay their respects to the king who liberated them. They tossed flowers in the path of his carriage and fell to their knees and sobbed. They deserved a chance for a proper goodbye and to celebrate Micah's life, but this was all I could give them. I've abandoned them in their greif while I act out my duties in another kingdom.
The past two days was not enough time to mourn the loss of my godfather. But the demands of a ruler doesn't wait for greif to subside. I must bury the king and discuss with our ally the next step to ending this war. And I've never felt so torn, so incapable.
"Micah loved you, Raelle," Borin says. "I know my parah, and dying in place of you was worth it to him."
His words are true. Micah willingly gave his life to save me, and I believe he would do it again and again if he could. But the king isn't the one who is here. He isn't the one living with the pain caused by a separation from the one he was made for.
"How can you not resent me?" As I say the words, my heart cracks. 
I can't stomach the notion of him looking at me with disdain for the rest of his life. He is my mentor, the man who readied me to take the crown. I wouldn't blame him for turning away, unable to face the pain of knowing I lived when his husband didn't. But I can't do this without his counsel, support, and love.