I watched Lissa get ready, seeing no ostensible sign of anything unusual. The dress she'd ended up selecting had cap sleeves and
went to the knee. Black, of course. It was hardly a clubbing dress, but she knew it would raise some eyebrows. Under different
circumstances, this would have delighted me. She chose to wear her hair down and unbound, its pale blond color showing brightly
against the dress's black when she surveyed herself in a mirror.
Christian met Lissa outside. He cleaned up well, I had to admit, uncharacteristically wearing a dress shirt and tie. He'd drawn the
line at a jacket, and his expression was an odd mix of nervousness, secrecy, and typical snark. When he saw Lissa, though, his face
momentarily transformed, turning radiant and awestruck as he gazed at her. He gave her a small smile and took her into his arms for a
brief embrace. His touch brought her contentment and comfort, easing her anxiety. They'd gotten back together recently after a
breakup, and that time apart had been agonizing for both of them.
"It's going to be okay," he murmured, his look of worry returning. "This'll work. We can do this."
She said nothing but tightened her hold on him before stepping back. Neither of them spoke as they walked to the beginning of the
funeral procession. I decided this was suspicious. She caught hold of his hand and felt strengthened by it.
The funeral procedures for Moroi monarchs had been the same for centuries, no matter if the Court was in Romania or its new
home in Pennsylvania. That was the Moroi way. They mixed the traditional with the modern, magic with technology.
The queen's coffin would be carried by pallbearers out of the palace and taken with great ceremony all through the Court's grounds,
until it reached the Court's imposing cathedral. There, a select group would enter for mass. After the service, Tatiana would be buried
in the church's graveyard, taking her place beside other monarchs and important royals.
The coffin's route was easy to spot. Poles strung with red and black silk banners marked each side. Rose petals had been strewn
on the ground the coffin would pass over. Along the sides, people crammed together, hoping to catch a glimpse of their former queen.
Many Moroi had come from far off places, some to see the funeral and some to see the monarch elections that would soon follow over
the next couple of weeks.
The royal family escort—most of whom wore saleswoman-approved black velvet—were already heading into the palace building.
Lissa stopped outside to part ways with Christian since he certainly had never been in the running to represent his family for such an
honored event. She gave him another fierce hug and a light kiss. As they stepped away, there was a knowing glint in his blue eyes
—that secret that was hidden from me.
Lissa pushed through the gathering crowds, trying to get to the entrance and find the procession's starting point. The building didn't
look like the palaces or castles of ancient Europe. Its grand stone façade and tall windows matched the Court's other structures, but a
few features—its height, wide marble steps—subtly distinguished it from other buildings. A tug at Lissa's arm stopped her progress,
