The cold creeped up her stockings, nipping at her. She shivered as the cold surrounded her. Inside her chest, Riona trembled as she crushed herbs, scattering them around a grave. Her lungs breathed hot air into cupped hands before she scattered the last crumbs. She recited complicated words, her body experiencing energy drain through her feet into the earth. She stood back, slightly swaying from dizziness. It soon disappeared when luminous mist pushed through the gravel, floating to form no other than the infamous Prince Drystan Crius Deveraux himself.
His ghost stood tall as he did in his lively year's. His arms were folded over his chest while his ethereal eyes roamed his surroundings. Riona let out an anticipated breath...
"It has been year's, yet you choose to summon me only now? What danger have you gotten yourself wormed in, moth?"
Her lashes dampened, her lips quivering. "No matter what you did, Drystan, you'll always be my brother," she sniffed with sudden emotion, "Do not be so cruel after death."
"State your intent," he ordered blandly, averting his face to some other corner of the graveyard. His eyes softened ever so slightly. "You buried me next to my parents."
"They are your parents," said the woman, "It is your right to lay beside them."
His lip pulled up in disgust. "My right was the throne, now you have it. So why still bother me after death with lended witchcraft?"
"I wanted to share the good news: I will be wed in Spring."
"Is that it?"
"What else did you expect?"
"Perhaps my permission to dig up my grave and revive me to attend the wedding in person?" he suggested with a mocking shrug. Riona felt insult grab her.
"You are too much of a threat to invite in real form," she gritted, "But do feel free to attend as a mere vapor."
Drystan seemed unhappy, snapping, "Who is this man even?"
"Valleric Haven Faxon," she replied, raising her chin. Drystan was silent, his jaw tight. He raised a brow, dwelling, "Haven? As in my friend, Spunky Haven?"
The world ceased to turn, the river stopped flowing and the wind halted. Riona crumbled, her knees spiking into the hard ground, most likely scraping her delicate skin. The impact stung, though not nearly as much as her heart. "I beg your pardon?" she mustered, face blank.
Drystan frowned. "It appears you are to marry my best friend," he rephrased stiffly. An uncomfortable atmosphere settled upon the two. The late prince spat, "So you were bored? Is that why you come stir my grave awake, only to deliver me such unrest?"
"No..." she whispered, still submerged in her own thoughts. "I... I didn't know..."
Drystan scoffed, "You couldn't find peace, now you seek bitter glories and this is one of them. I assume we will see each other once more, may it be like this or in the world of the dead." The faint mist disappeared, sucked up by the earth, settled back into the warm nest of the burial.
Riona sat hunched over, her palms pressed to the ground, her shoulders crunched up with tight realization. "That is how you learn about me... You were always there," she said. The faint smell of iron snagged her attention. Blood. Her wings fluttered as she stood, her heart hammering. She could sense distress from the castle, yet where in the castle?
Her hairs prickled: Danger. Someone was endangered in the castle. Only a crowned queen could be so well connected with her home. Soon she darted through the air up towards her chamber balcony. With a thud, she landed, her legs prepared to sprint, her hands jamming into walls to save her from any impact. Her nose followed an invisible trail of blood scent until she turned a corner, ramming into a solid entity. Hands wrapped around her as she attempted to push away.
"Where are you hurrying off to at this hour, love?"
She slacked, glancing up with distress evident in her appearance. "Are you hurt?" she shot out. Valleric shook his head, confused he pulled her further to inspect. "Why would I be? I was on my way to bed. Caspian is as drunk as a pirate so I swiftly led him to bed. That leads me to ask, where were you?"
His hands traced her silhouette, pausing when he asked, "Why are you this cold?"
"I was outside," she admitted, "It is cold outside."
He let out an awkward chuckle, draping a palm over her forehead, "Well yes, it is winter but what led you out at this time?"
She swallowed a knot in her throat. Her mouth felt dry. She licked her lips. "Did you..." she trailed off, fighting against her tongue. Valleric queried, "Did I?"
Riona forced herself so not break eye contact. "Did you kill Drystan?"
Valleric was transfixed. His own eyes not daring to move from her face. They glazed over, his hands losing their grip, arms dropping to his sides. "How did you come up with that?"
"You were his friend, weren't you?"
"Riona, where did you hear this?"
"I talked to him. I told him about my upcoming wedding. He asked me who the man is, so I told him your make belief names. He told me your other illegitimate name, Spunky."
"You talked to him? How?"
"I summoned him. Dark Magic."
Valleric leaned against the wall, his legs betraying him as he prayed that his ears might deceive him. Or even his mind playing games.
"Was he livid?" asked the man, his voice sounding uncertain — pushing back chained sobs.
"His ghost was disappointed."
"Riona," he said softly, reaching for her hand, which she allowed him. Valleric held her hand tenderly. His eyes glistened with hidden heartbreak. "We do terrible things," he started quietly, "for the people we love... Even if it means, killing a monarch."
Her teeth clenched onto the inside of her cheek. Her lip trembled. The man feared that the woman might yell, perhaps lift an unstable hand to express her sorrow. He braced himself for any form of outburst, his eyes pinched shut. Yet, all he could feel was an embrace filled with equal heartbreak and mourning.
Both their bodies collapsed to the floor, holding dearly to each other for comfort. Tears wet his shoulder. Riona whimpered, "That is all I needed to know. That he was killed out of love and not hate." She sobbed. "We both loved him, that it all I need to release this intense stab in my chest. Drystan died because of love, not simply by duty."