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‘You are most welcome, Warsword,’ one guard said, making the three-fingered gesture to his left shoulder.

‘Thank you,’ Hawthorne replied, dismounting but still towering over the guards. ‘My charge wishes to attend the open court. We have a letter from the Guild Master of Thezmarr.’ Hawthorne produced a piece of folded parchment and handed it over.

The man scanned its contents, surveying Thea with an air of disbelief. Nevertheless, he gave the letter back to Hawthorne, addressing him, not Thea. ‘The open court is taking place now. I believe it’s nearly at an end.’

‘At an end?’ Thea started, jumping down from her mare.‘Now?I thought we had until —’

‘The royals and nobles are eager to start the feast and festivities,’ the guard told her. ‘If you wish this matter to be heard by the rulers, you must go now. Even then, you may be too late.’

Blood roared in Thea’s ears, panic seizing her limbs. ‘But —’

Hawthorne faced her, nodding towards the grand palace entrance and pushing the Guild Master’s letter into her hands. ‘I suggest you hurry.’

‘You’re not coming?’

‘I have other matters to attend to.’

Thea gaped at him.

‘What are you waiting for?’ he prompted.

With her heart hammering and despair lurching in her gut, Thea turned on her heel, bracing to race for the stairs.

‘Don’t run,’ Hawthorne added casually. ‘They’ll put an arrow through your throat.’

Cursing the Warsword, Thea walked as quickly as she could towards the entrance, taking two steps at a time. No one stopped her, no one shot an arrow through her throat. The palace was the most glorious place she had ever seen, but she couldn't stop to admire its opulent details. Instead, she asked the nearest guard where the court was being held and darted off, repeating his directions in her head.

Thea forgot about her dirty, dishevelled state. She forgot about the surly Warsword. She thought of only one thing: becoming a shieldbearer, and then, a legend of Thezmarr. This was the moment she had dreamed of her whole life. This was the opportunity that would make all her training, all her spying, and the many other risks she’d taken worth it.

When she reached the ornate pair of gold filigree doors, a herald greeted her.

‘I’m afraid court is just finishing,’ he said, eyeing her travel worn clothes with distaste.

Still clutching the now crumpled Guild Master’s letter, Thea’s heart plummeted to her stomach. ‘Please, I’ve come a long way.’

The herald studied her for a moment longer, before spotting the Guild Master’s wax seal on the parchment in her hands. ‘One moment,’ he said eventually, before ducking inside the room beyond.

Thea’s heart was about to burst, and there was a real possibility that she might throw up all over the pristine marble floor.

A minute later, the herald reappeared. ‘You were just in time,’ he said. His earlier expression of distaste was gone, in its place was one of pity. ‘They’ll see you now.’

There was no time for shock, no time for panic. Thea straightened and brushed off her clothes as best she could before nodding to the herald.

He opened the doors.

The sight within took Thea’s breath away.

The throne room.

Arched vaulted ceilings soared above her, punctuated with crystal chandeliers that sent light dancing around the room and the crowd of nobles that filled it. All eyes went to Thea, but she kept her gaze ahead. The marble floor continued beneath her muddy boots leading to the apex of the chamber, where three gilded thrones sat on a wide, carpeted dais, a ruler seated in each.

Thea had never felt so exposed in all her life. But if this was the path she had to walk, then she would walk it with her head held high. Reaching the foot of the dais, she stopped before the royals and bowed low.

The hair on the back of her neck stood up as something strange reached out to her, wrapping around her senses, toying with the warring feelings in her chest.

Magic, she realised. She was in the presence of magic, and not the forged power of a Warsword, but magic born of the rulers of the midrealms –royalmagic.

Here it was, almost visible as a spectrum of colours before her.