The Raven Queen by Lindsey Sparks & Lindsey Sparks

Author:Lindsey Sparks & Lindsey Sparks [Pogue, Lindsey]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: L2 Books

20

Del

“We’ll start the day in the throne room for the funeral,” Marta, the castle’s event coordinator, said from beside me, launching into her review of the schedule for Friday. Was the equinox really only two days away?

With one hand, I gripped Mother’s silver raven pendant, which I now wore around my neck, while the fingers of the other were curled around the bronze railing of the viewing balcony overlooking the throne room.

The vernal equinox, as one of the Temple’s four major holidays, along with the autumnal equinox and the two solstices, was always a big deal throughout the Seven Kingdoms. But this year, it was tenfold the production with the weekly sabbath, Mother’s funeral, and the coronation all happening on the same day.

I watched the servants rushing around on the polished black granite floor below to place tables, chairs, and other decor. The floral arrangements—all living plants to symbolize rebirth, renewal, and the promise of Spring—would be added the morning of the celebration, but at least the furniture helped me to picture how the room would look for Mother’s funeral.

“Then,” Marta continued, “we will move everyone out to the gardens for brunch and the regular equinox celebration—the egg painting and egg hunts, the seed planting and seedling exchanges, the group devotional . . . ” In my periphery, I saw her peer down at the schedule on her clipboard. “We’ll bring out a late lunch around 4 p.m.”

“Without spirits, correct?” I clarified, glancing at the tall, lithe woman sidelong.

She gave a brusque nod. “No alcohol will be served until after the coronation.”

“Good,” I said, relieved.

We wanted everything to go as smoothly as possible, and while it was tradition for the castle to provide libations as well as food during the quarterly holiday celebrations, Garath and Hills agreed it was best to hold off until after the coronation. Especially with the cryptic line in Becca’s prophecy about the last raven falling. Garath and Hills considered me the last raven, even though both were now aware of Mother’s terrible secret—that I wasn’t a true, biological heir—and were doubly cautious of anything that could cause that prophesied fall.

But I wasn’t so sure it was talking about me.

What if the last raven was actually Mother? Technically, she was the last of the Corvo bloodline, and she had fallen. If I was right, then the two qualifying pieces of the prophecy were in place. Purity was killing—Class purity exponentially increased a person’s chances of developing the wasting sickness—and the last raven had fallen when Mother died. The time was right for the prophecy to be fulfilled. I just needed to find the dreamwalker, whoever that was, and the rest of the prophecy, and so much of this suffering could come to an end.

Ever since I touched the pendant and discovered Mother’s secret, the impending war with the Sierra Kingdom had felt remote, like it wasn’t truly my problem. Logically, I knew it should have been my top priority, but the prophecies were all I could think about.

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