Falling Kingdoms

“I wish both of us could have survived.” Cleo’s voice broke. For all King Corvin’s riches, his beloved queen had still died in childbirth, and there had been nothing he could do to prevent it.

“Well, I do too, but I’m so glad that you are here.”

“You know I’d do anything for you, right?” Cleo’s voice caught on the words. “I love you more than anything else in the world.”

“I know. And I love you too.” More blood trickled from Emilia’s nose before she wiped it away.

“What can I do to help you?”

“Nothing.” Emilia blinked, her expression bleak. “I’m dying, Cleo.”

“Emilia! Don’t say that.” A sob welled in Cleo’s chest. This was her greatest fear spoken aloud for the first time.

Emilia squeezed her hand. “It’s true. You need to prepare yourself for what’s to come. You must weather the storm and come out the other side stronger than before.”

“Stop it.” Cleo’s voice quavered. “Don’t say these things. You’re not dying.”

“I am. I know I am. When the man I love died two months ago, I prayed to Cleiona to take me as well so I could be with him again. My prayers are being answered.”

Emilia’s face crumpled with grief and tears streamed down her cheeks. The tears were tinged with red. More blood.

Cleo gasped. Her sister had been in love with a guard who’d died two months ago. “It was Theon’s father, wasn’t it?”

Emilia’s breath caught and she stared at Cleo with surprise before she began to sob harder.

Cleo had guessed correctly. Her sister had been in love with the king’s bodyguard who’d been thrown from his horse to his death. A tragedy. Cleo’s heart had bled for Theon’s loss. She’d had no idea that it was a loss also felt by her sister.

“I’m so, so sorry.” She hugged Emilia as her sister’s blood-tinged tears soaked into the shoulder of her gown. It was unusual for her sister to be so emotional. She normally hid her tears, even from Cleo. Emilia had always been poised and perfect, smart and sophisticated, while Cleo struggled with being on her best behavior. Emilia was always the rock—comforting Cleo when she was upset over some idle gossip or a petty argument with a friend. Or the loss of her innocence to Aron.

“You’re the same as you were yesterday and the day before,” she’d soothed. “Nothing has changed. Not really. Forget what troubles you. Regret nothing, but learn from any mistakes you make. Tomorrow will be a brighter day, I promise.”

“I’m so sorry he’s gone,” Cleo murmured into her sister’s hair. “I wish it could be different. But please don’t say you prayed to die. You can’t ever say something like that.”

“I thought I would die from the pain when I first learned of his death. It was as if I’d lost my husband, not only my lover.” Emilia drew in a shaky breath. “While Simon and I could never dream of being married in reality, two weeks before he died, he rode with me out to the Lesturne Valley, a few hours past town. We spent the day together, pledging our love and devotion with the beauty of nature as our witness. I committed myself to him forever and he to me. It was perfect, Cleo. For just a few hours, everything was so perfect. We watched the sunset together and counted the stars as they appeared. He said we’d become stars when we died, watching over the ones we love. Now I watch the sky every night hoping to find him there—hoping to see him again. I miss him so much I know it’s the cause of this illness. My grief has burrowed into me like a dark thing that eats away at my life.”

“You mustn’t allow it to.” Cleo’s throat was so tight, but her words held anger. “You can’t. You’re to be the queen one day. If you die, that means it’ll be me. Trust me, Emilia, that would be a very bad thing. I would make a terrible queen. As horrible as all of this has been for you and as much as my heart breaks for this secret you’ve kept locked tight inside you, I refuse to accept that you’re dying from grief. You’re sick, that’s all. And sick people get well again.”

“The healers I’ve seen don’t understand what’s wrong with me. They have no answers or medicine other than the ones that make me want to sleep all day.” Emilia snorted softly. “Although, one suggested I seek help in Paelsia. That it was my only hope for survival.”

“From whom in Paelsia?” Cleo asked immediately.

Emilia waved a hand. “It’s a legend, that’s all.”

“What legend?”

Emilia’s smile widened. “Suddenly, my sister who only believes in things she can see is interested in stories and legends.”

“If you don’t tell me, I swear I’ll scream.”

“Goodness, wouldn’t want that.” Emilia’s pale face looked tired and she leaned her head back on her pillow. “The healer told me of a woman in Paelsia who acts as guardian to the original grape seeds that were infused with earth magic. They’re the ones that helped the vineyards to begin to produce such incredible wine. She tends to these vineyards with her own earth magic that she shields from the rest of the world.”

“Magic,” Cleo said skeptically.

“I know you don’t believe, which is why I didn’t want to tell you.”

“So this woman has magic seeds and is responsible for the vineyards growing so wonderfully in Paelsia. Why doesn’t she use this magic to help Paelsia out of its poverty?”