The Reign of Trees by Lori Folkman Page B

chest. Lavish gowns were carefully folded and placed on top. Underneath those were books, candlesticks, and a large circular loom with loose threads hanging from the fabric. “My mother started this after Katherine died. Katherine was the third child my mother lost, and we believe it is what contributed to my mother’s ill health. Her heart had been broken one too many times. The border,” he said, grabbing the edge of the fabric, “is our family crest, woven into a chain that is to be unbroken by death. And each of these,” he pointed to the flowers inside the border, “represents the members of our family. My father, at the center, is the orchid.” Underneath the orchid, a tiny script was legible. “Henrick Da Via.”
    “I am next, the eldest son—the elderberry—signifying that through me, the fruit of Da Via will blossom.” Underneath the elderberry, was the script “Donovan.”
    “Donovan?” she asked.
    “My mother called me by my Christian name. She said that I was too unique—too special—to have the name of another.”
    “Donovan,” Illianah repeated. She liked how it sounded on her tongue: like a river rolling down a hillside brimming with large rocks. “It is fitting,” she said. Henrick always seemed so bold a name for someone as gentle as the prince. Even though she had known him as Prince Henrick her entire life, her heart changed his name to Donovan the second it rolled off her tongue.
    He continued to show her the needlework. Two flowers represented his younger brothers who had both died in their infancy, and delicate yellow roses represented his sister Katherine. In the upper right corner was a pink flower—a weeping cherry blossom to represent his mother. Only it was not finished. There were just three small blossoms; many more were needed to cover a space of over a foot. “Perhaps you would like to finish it for her,” Prince Donovan Henrick Da Via said.
    “Your family tapestry? I cannot.”
    “I know I am most certainly not going to try my hand at it. And the king is too … well, perhaps you have noticed how his hands shake? We are the only two Da Vias left. It may never get finished.”
    She wanted to suggest that someday he would have a bride and finishing the tapestry should fall upon her, but Illianah could not bear to speak those words.
    “You are in want of something to keep your hands from being idle, and this would fill my mother’s dying request. She was very fond of you, Illianah.”
    “She had not seen me since I was a child, not even thirteen.”
    “Which would explain the fondness,” he teased.
    Illianah carefully studied the complex needlepoint. In addition to feeling certain she should not be the person to finish the tapestry, she did not know her skill matched his mother’s. “I really do not feel qualified to complete this task,” she said, hoping he would hear the desperate uncertainty in her voice and reconsider his offer.
    “Nonsense. It would make my mother very happy to have you do this for her.”
    As Illianah continued to carefully study the needlepoint, Donovan left her side. She noticed one section, just below the cherry blossoms, where it was obvious that threads had been clipped and removed. Only a few white threads remained. “My Lord?” she asked, “what was here?”
    He looked on her with eyes deeply pained and seemed to hesitate before answering. His mouth moved once without producing words, and then the second time he opened his mouth, his voice was not soft as she had expected. It was hard and edged with bitterness. “A lily,” he said.
    A lily. Her flower. She was meant to be on that tapestry.

Chapter Five
    It took Illianah two days before she gathered enough courage to work on the tapestry. But before she could begin her stitches, she had to make certain the remnants of the lily were removed. At first, she was angry about the flower. Queen Sofia should never have been so presumptuous to assume that Illianah would become a part of