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The window was shuttered, the night beyond pitch-black. But in her mind she could still see the river valley, the sentinel line of castles, the forest hiding the Madrentine army.The way forward.

“Strong as Galland may be,” she breathed, “I am not stupid enough to fight a war on two fronts.”

Taristan opened his mouth to reply, but Ronin cut him off with a wave.

“Nezri is beyond reach now,” the wizard said. “On this we agree.”

“She’s still there,” Taristan snarled. The ragged scars beneath his eye stood out furiously.

Before she knew what she was doing, Erida felt his body beneath her fingers, her palms pressed against his shoulders. She blinked fiercely.

“You won’t catch her, if she’s even still alive.”

He did not push her away, but he dropped her gaze.

“Perhaps the Spindle took her with it. Perhaps the danger of Corayne an-Amarat has passed,” she added, sounding desperate even to her own ears.Wishful thinking. The girl is Corblood, with an immortal at her side and perhaps a witch too. Gods only know who else.

“We both know that isn’t true.” Every word from Taristan’s lips cut like a knife, slicing her foolish hope down to size.

But Erida did not shrink with it. She straightened up instead, her hands still curled on his shoulders, against solid muscle and bone.

“And we both know the way forward,” she hissed.

After a long moment, Taristan nodded, setting his mouth into a grim line.

“Wizard, find me a Spindle,” he said, the full force of command in his voice.

He sounds like a king,Erida thought.

“Find me another place to destroy.” He stepped from her grasp, all movement. “I’ll lead the charge tomorrow, Erida. And lay victory at your feet.”

Air whistled past her teeth as she drew in a sharp breath.Will it be enough?she wondered.Will we succeed before Konegin ruins all we’ve worked for, all we’ve done? All I have already sacrificed—my independence, perhaps my throne.

The red sheen was unmistakable, a crescent in Taristan’s eyes.

And maybe my soul too.

The prince cocked his head. “Do you doubt me?”

“No,” Erida shot back, almost too quickly. Heat bloomed in her cheeks and she turned, trying to hide her rising flush. If Ronin and Taristan noticed, they said nothing.

She fussed with her skirts, smoothing them down. “At worst, if we cannot inspire loyalty, cannot win the hearts and minds of my court—we will buy them.”

Taristan’s dry manner returned. It was like pouring a bucket of ice water over the Queen’s head. “Even you aren’t rich enough for that.”

She went to the door, putting a hand to the iron pull. On the other side, the Lionguard lay in wait, eager to protect their young queen.

“You opened a portal to the Dazzling Realm, Prince Taristan,” she said, wrenching the door ajar. Cold air flowed in from the rest of the dreary castle. “I have all the wealth we will ever need.”

And something else, too.

She remembered the diamonds in his fist, big as eggs, thencrushed to fine, starry powder. She remembered the Spindle and the glimpse of beyond, into Irridas. It was like a realm frozen, not with ice, but with jewels and precious stones.

And she remembered what moved within it: a glittering storm, now loose upon the Ward.

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In the Shadow of the Falcon