The child's body rested on a grey slab of stone, wrapped tightly in black cloth. The green grass and blue summer sky seemed out of place amongst the sea of black and charcoal grey dresses and coats of funeral guests.
Niraya stood at the front of the crowd that was gathered on the palace lawn, along with her husband and two boys. She tore her eyes from the small bundle for a moment and shot a sideways glance at the family that stood next to them at the front of the crowd.
Tholan stood tall, his face like stone as he held on to a sniffling Gessane. Her chestnut hair was pulled into a tight knot behind her head, exposing her long neck, sharp angles, and bare shoulders. The black gown she wore made her willowy limbs stand out and, to Niraya, she looked just like one of the Folk. She was too beautiful to be human, even as she stood clutching her husband and crying, her usually fair skin blotchy and wet with tears. How no one could see what she really was made Niraya's anger spark.
She felt her anger falter when a small girl in a deep maroon gown stepped from between Gessane and Tholan, a small yellow flower that she no doubt stole from the palace garden clutched to her chest. Her golden hair was also pulled into a tight knot behind her head, but wisps of her curls had escaped and hung loosely around her round face.
A hard lump rose in Niraya's throat and hot tears pooled in her eyes as her anger resumed, flaring to a peak.
She watched silently as Elizabeth, Gessane and Tholan's only child, closed the distance between her and the stone slab and laid the yellow flower next to the child wrapped in black.
"What I have in this bag will solve your little pest problem," the faerie's voice rang loud in her ears. "But there is a price."
"I'm willing to pay it," she had said without a trace of doubt.
"Then that's all I need to know."
A sob fled Niraya's lips as she thought back to her conversation with the faerie. She had been so eager to get what she wanted, what she felt she needed, and she had said she was willing to pay any price that he asked.
But she had no idea the price for her hatred would be her own child's life.
She had been reckless with the Winter's Claw. She had left it where the girls played every day in a lavish bowl that she was sure Elizabeth wouldn't be able to resist sticking her fingers in.
She never once thought that Elizabeth wouldn't be the one to perish.
She had left the berries on Elizabeth's bedside table while she slept. There was only a few minutes in between guard rotation, but she had slipped in and out before anyone noticed. The girl hadn't even stirred.
The next morning, Niraya watched Justalyn play in the garden from a high window. She waited eagerly to hear the shots and screams that were sure to happen once Elizabeth's body was discovered. She waited and waited, but the screams never came.
Just as she was about to go look for herself, Niraya spotted a head of blonde hair enter the garden where Justalyn was playing.
It was Elizabeth, and she was carrying the bowl of berries in her small hands, holding them out to Justalyn to share.
Niraya's blood ran cold, and she watched as Justalyn reached out greedily and shoved a handful of the berries into her mouth.
The effects were almost instant, and Niraya's screams mixed with Elizabeth's as she watched her only daughter succumb to Winter's Claw.
Niraya longed for a strong arm to snake around her waist and to pull her close, but none came. When she looked up into her own husband's face, he wore no expression. He had carefully built a blank mask to wear to keep the turmoil under the surface, and when he looked down at her, there was no warmth.
When she turned her gaze back to Tholan, she saw that he was kneeling down to scoop up a sobbing Elizabeth. She buried her face into his shoulder as she wrapped her small arms around his neck. He hushed her gently, his blonde hair falling into hers.
Tholan hushed his daughter gently, his large hand stroking her back as she hiccuped. For only being four summers old, it was obvious to him that she understood and felt more deeply then other children would in their present situation.
He could feel Niraya's eyes on him, and when he brought his brown eyes to her green ones, he felt his gut twist. Her lower lip quivered as she tried to hold back another wave of tears and her green eyes, once so bright, now looked dull.
He couldn't stand to watch her cry. He had never been able to stand to see her sad, so he turned away, back to his crying wife and child with little more than a nod.
Niraya felt her heart shatter as he turned away. He had hardly looked at her. The only man who could possibly provide comfort had turned away, and she felt the sorrow and anger well up all at once.
The green grass rose up to meet her as she crumbled to the ground, sobs raking through her body as the funeral goers watched on in silence.
"My baby!" she wailed. "My baby!"
She continued to scream until the funeral ended, her guilt threatening to drown her as the priest said the words that were supposed to somehow bring a sense of peace, but his words brought not such comfort. Justalyn was dead, and it was all her fault.
~
As the priest made his closing statements, the funeral guests started to make their way towards the palace gates. The funeral was over, and there was no reason to linger.
Niraya still sat on the ground, her arms wrapped around her middle as she rocked herself forward and back. Her eyes stung, no longer able to produce tears.
There were whispers exchanged between Tholan and her husband, and soon Niraya could feel that they were alone. Even Tryg and Adrian, her two sons, were elsewhere.
"They did this!" she shouted, her voice strained as she balled her hands into fists in the fabric of her dress. "They killed my baby!"
"Now is not the time, Niraya," Celthric growled, his back to her. He stared at the small body that lay on the stone slab and tried to imagine his daughter wrapped underneath the black cloth, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. The child wrapped in the cloth wasn't his daughter. All that was wrapped in the cloth was an empty body.
"Then when will it be the time, Celthric?" she shrieked. "Those filthy creatures killed our daughter!"
"Enough!" he snapped, whirling on his crumpled wife. Anger boiled over in the pit of his stomach and rose into his mouth, and he bit his tongue before he could spit acid at her. He knew that she was mourning, they all were, but he wanted to mourn the death of his only daughter in peace. But it seemed that she wasn't going to have it.
"You know they—"
"I know nothing of what happened to her, Niraya!" Celthric bellowed, closing the distance between them and yanking her up by her upper arm. She tried to pull away, but his grip was firm. His eyes burned with anger.
"They poisoned her, Celthric," Niraya stated, trying to keep her voice from quivering. The lie burned on her lips, but she couldn't tell the truth. She would be put to death if they knew, and while Niraya knew she would never forgive herself for what she had caused, she wasn't ready to die. "They poisoned her with those berries and left her to die alone." She choked on a sob as she said it, and Celthric's grip loosened.
"How can we be sure the Folk did this?" he asked, studying her with a furrow of his brow.
"Because who else knows where to find those berries? There is nothing like them in the kingdoms!"
And there wasn't. When Justalyn had been brought back to her room, a healer had looked her over to determine the cause of death.
"I've only read about this sort of poisoning in stories," he had stated, his voice breathy with disbelief as he stared down at the child. She had seemed frozen, her skin blue and purple, coated in a thin layer of frost. Her limbs were contorted, screwed up as if she was in pain.
And she had frozen that way. Later, the healer would have to break her arms and legs in order to situate her to be wrapped for her funeral. Niraya had fled the room then, unable to take the snapping sound of her child's bones.
Celthric stared at her now, seeming to think over her answer, and Niraya fought the urge to shift.
A new plan was unfolding in her mind, a plan that could do so much more harm to Gessane and her people than her plan to poison Elizabeth. And this time, she would not fail.
She could not fail.
After several moments, Celthric dropped his grip and cupped Niraya's face in his hands. The gesture was so uncommon that she felt herself wanting to pull away when the only thing she had wanted only moments ago was to be held. But not by Celthric, no. She wanted to be held by Tholan.
"They will pay," he whispered as he brushed his lips against hers. He tasted faintly of spiced rum. "I promise you, they will all pay."
And when Niraya wept, she wept with joy.
~
"Do you think Mama will ever stop crying?" Adrian asked as he pulled his knees to his chest. When the funeral had come to a close and their mother made no attempt to get up and move, Celthric had ordered Tryg to take his brother inside, but instead, they had climbed a nearby hill that looked over the palace lawn and the far-off trees.
His brother didn't answer. "Tryg?" Still no answer. With a huff and a roll of his eyes, Adrian tore his gaze away from his mother and father and their embrace and looked at his older brother, only to find that Tryg's eyes were fixated on the distant tree line.
Adrian squinted, willing whatever Tryg was looking at to appear before his eyes, but to no avail. Annoyed, Adrian turned back to his brother and opened his mouth to say something.
"I heard you the first time," Tryg cut him off, his low voice vibrating in his chest. His silver eyes never left the trees as he imagined shadows moving between the rocks and trees. Most of them were small, some so small that he could barely see them while others were as tall as his father. Every so often, one of the imaginary shadows would stop and Tryg would feel the hair on his arms stand up. It was as though the faeries of the forest were looking right at him.
They're not there, Tryg reminded himself. Not today.
"Why didn't you answer then?" his younger brother whined. Adrian couldn't stand to be ignored, especially when he was bored.
"Because," Tryg drew out the word in the same whiney tone. "I was busy."
"Doing what?" Adrian scoffed. "Staring into the empty forest?"
A small smile spread across Tryg's lips. "It's not empty, Adrian. You know that." Tryg imagined another shadow, this one hanging upside-down from a branch and its hair hanging down to the ground below.
There were plenty of faeries that roamed the markets and the villages, but there never seemed to be any around the palace. The only time Tryg ever saw the Folk near the castle were when they were near the tree line, but even then, they seemed to stay out of sight.
But today, the trees had been eerily empty.
Adrian bristled in annoyance. Tryg was always ahead of him when it came to knowledge, but it was hardly fair when Tryg was eight years older. But Adrian pushed aside his annoyance. For once in his life, he knew something Tryg didn't.
"It will be," he stated smugly. "If mother has her way, it will be."