It should have rained. The sky had no right to shine out without a cloud to be spotted. The birds had no right to chirp their happy melodies. 'It should have rained…' was all Laurel could think as she looked around.
Memorials weren't meant to happen with the sun shining. The palace staff and royals dressed were in dark blacks, clothing reflecting the gloom within, even if the skies would not. It felt wrong. It felt wrong that he was gone. Wrong that she hadn't even gotten to tell him goodbye. It was wrong that her last words to the man who'd raised her was, " We'll talk about this when I get back." The only solace being that she'd told him she loved him not long before that. Laurel wanted to scream. She wanted to throw something. To be able to cry, but she knew such things weren't for her. Not now. Not under the watchful eyes of her people, of her family.
Selah was being strong enough for them both, strong enough to keep the princess from sobbing and making a fool of her self. The frost colored woman stood tall, shoulders back, looking as regal and powerful as Laurel's mother ever had. Selah held Fitz's urn in her arms as she led the procession, only faint tear trails giving insight to her stormy eyes.
The warm, humid air was suffocating and the sun made Laurel's heavy silk robes burning and constricting, sticking to her skin like a thickly wrapped spider's web. Part of her wondered if that was supposed to be some sort of cruel joke by some wrathful being, making her as physically uncomfortable as she was emotionally distraught. Either way she wouldn't, couldn't, express either of these things.