Clarion had her head in the washroom sink so many times while Mary helped her get dressed for the funeral that Spruce was summoned again.

There was a knock at the washroom door, and he slipped in when she was in the middle of dry heaving.

He didn't say a word but set a cold hand on the back of her neck to calm her down, and his other hand held her upper arm to support her. When she started to collapse from being so weak, he swung her up in his arms and carried her to the bed.

"Do you want a bit of a sedative to calm your nerves?" he asked as he dug in his bag beside the bed.

"No," she replied weakly and held a hand to her pounding head, closing her eyes.

"You must eat and drink, Queen Clarion, or I promise you will grow ill in a matter of days. I'll give you different sleeping pills to try," he said patiently. "He wouldn't want you to abandon Pixie Hollow," he said softly, knowing exactly where to strike.

Her face crumpled and she looked at him. "I can't do this," she whimpered.

He swallowed hard and held her eyes. "You can and you will." Setting a cold hand on her arm he said, "He did something like this too the days after he left you."

She blinked in surprise.

"He said what got him through each day was talking to you in his head. Whether it's insanity or not, I don't care at this point because you aren't thriving this way."

After giving her some medicine to calm her stomach, he packed up his bag and left her to rest for a bit.

Exhaustion claimed her and she fell into a troubled sleep.

She startled awake when a guard was shaking her shoulder.

"Your Highness, it's just a dream," he said with wide eyes.

She sat up and rubbed her bleary eyes.

"You were screaming," he said. "Are you alright?"

She looked up to see several guards in the doorway.

Her new Captain, Rufus, was shooing everyone out and walked over. "She's alright," he said protectively and guided the last of them out. Then he turned to her, his eyes concerned. "Perhaps it's not my place, but have you talked with a healer about these night terrors?" He stood beside her bed, obviously worried but unsure how much familiarity to show being they were somewhat newly acquainted.

"Yes. What time is it?" She slid down off the bed, her head throbbing, and tried to shove out of her head her nightmare about Milori being tortured.

"We must leave in a half hour for the..." He let his voice trail off, unsure if he should say the word.

"Thank you. I'll finish getting ready."

He bowed and shut the door.

She looked at her reflection. Deep shadows were under her eyes and her hair somehow seemed as dull as her eyes. Her dresses no longer shimmered but had the illusion of drips that Spruce suspected were 'tears,' mirroring the extreme emotion that had come to consume her. Her eyes were slightly puffy from unending crying, and her cheeks were a bit sunken from weight she was beginning to lose. "You refused to mate to save me, but it looks like it made no difference in the end," she said softly, knowing her light wouldn't last much longer at this rate. She slowly set her tiara on her head, despising the thing now that had cost her so much. She turned her back on her reflection.

Clarion walked down the hall slowly as if in a dream, feeling so disconnected from everything. Her guards followed silently, not questioning why the Queen was arriving before anyone else. She went into the empty throne room that held flowers and photos of the Lost Heroes. She couldn't bear to look at any of them, so she left her guards at the door and slowly walked to her throne. But she couldn't bring herself to stand in the spot where she had sent Milori off to war. Instead, she went to the window and stared out at the beautiful day outside. She could see a soft snow fall in winter. A tearful smile overcame her. It was fitting that it was snowing on his funeral day with the way he loved snowflakes. Touching the window pane, she felt a coolness wash over her hands and let her fingers frost the pane. She created an intricate snowflake design, her hand taking a mind of its own and developing such detail that he would have been in awe. It was several minutes before she noticed fairies were filing in. Instead of taking her seat at the throne, she sat in one of the chairs at the end of the front row, giving honor instead to the ones who had sacrificed themselves. The burials for the dead whose bodies had been found had occurred a couple days ago. Fairies who were closest to the deceased would say a few words of respect.

Everyone gave their eulogies, Milori's being saved as the last being he held the highest rank as a general and a lord. She couldn't listen to anything they said. She couldn't think about what she would say. It was too much. Inside she was screaming and shaking with uncontrollable tears. On the outside, she sat calm and regal. And expressionless. After a torturous hour, it was her turn.

She slowly stood and walked to the front of the room, keeping her eyes away from the photos because she knew she would fall to her knees and sob otherwise. Turning around slowly to face the room, she dragged her eyes up to look at the crowd full of tearful faces. Closing her eyes, she whispered to him, "I need strength." Taking a deep breath, she opened her eyes and spoke. "To some he was a lord, to others a friend. But to all of us, he was a hero..." Her voice broke and tears blurred her vision. She tried to take a steadying breath, but it only escaped as a sob. She covered her mouth with her hand and blinked away tears, her vision clearing to see Spruce getting up to come help. But the doors of the hall opened and no one moved.

Her heart stopped, and she didn't believe her eyes. It couldn't be. The room was silent in astonishment as nine men limped into the room.