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“And the Glacians? What of them?”

“I’ve met a few on my journey. Most are not a threat to us.”

“And those that are?”

Ruby laughs again. “You fucking coward.”

Cressida shows no outward reaction to her mockery. “So you’d start a war with them, Ruby? A brave soldier and her guards against the wings and talons of a Glacian horde. How many of ours would die, do you suppose?”

Ruby’s head falls back as she sighs. Weariness suddenly overwhelms her. She is so tired of speaking in circles with those who don’t want to listen. “Admit your truest concern, Cressida. We both know you care very little for the lives lost in war. There are plenty of boys and girls who will sleep tonight and wake up as men and women in the morning, as so deemed by your wife. A guard’s role is easily replenished, but… so is aQueen’s.” Here, Ruby stops. Watches. “That’s the true fear within you, isn’t it? How long have you carried it around? Quite a burden that crown must be, knowing it might be snatched away just as easily as it was won. I didn’t always see that. I didn’t always see the fear you guard. It must make one considerably bitter.”

Cressida’s eyes flash. “Quite,” she says. Her mouth is so taut Ruby wonders how the word finds its way out.

A stretch of silence follows, and Ruby is determined not to fill it. She wants to hear Cressida speak the words, admit her purest intentions.

Instead, the Queen turns away, eyes suddenly distant. The volume of her skirts whispers against the grate. “I didn’t seek it, Captain.”

Ruby frowns, stares at Cressida’s back. “Seek what?”

“Power,” she returns, not bothering to face her. “I had very little interest in it when I was young.”

Ruby hesitates, guessing that Her Majesty must be lying, though something about her posture, the deadened quality of her voice, seems… genuine. “Then what–”

“I worshippedher,” Cressida says, her breath suddenly, unexpectedly uneven. “I would have followed Alvira anywhere. But there’s a strange curse that comes with power.” She sighs. “The one who has it becomes nothing without it.” Slowly, the woman turns just enough to glance back over her shoulder, meeting Ruby’s glare.

An old woman who’d never sought power and won it.

A young woman who’d earnt hers and thrown it away.

“Her Majesty is determined to find Dawsyn Sabar and her gang of sycophants. If you were practical, you’d part with names and whereabouts swiftly.”

“If I werepractical, I would have made myself deaf and dumb a long time ago,” Ruby mutters.

Cressida’s eyes become piercing. “Two guards were killed yesterday, on a wagon trail to the North. I’d imagine your new friends aren’t far away.”

Ruby freezes in the act of turning, but her pulse races on.

“Young Leeson. Such a pity to lose him. And I believe you knew the other boy quite well also…”

Ruby swallows.

“Brockner was his name. Will Brockner.”

For a moment, Ruby remains rigid, the name sliding through her like frigid water. It puts a tremor in her hands, shrivels her lungs, makes it difficult to draw breath.

“I’m told you were quite fond of him.”

“Fuck you,” Ruby spits, but the words are breathy, weak.

The Queen sighs again. World-weary. Tired. “She’ll kill you, Captain,” she says, and her tone is neither bitter nor glad.

Of course, she will. Ruby is no fool. “I am sure she’ll do quite a bit more besides.”

CHAPTERFORTY-NINE

“Where are you going?” Ryon says suddenly.

Dawsyn turns. She was making her way back into the forest. She cannot leave Gerrot on the road. She wants to go back for the body herself. She expects Ryon’s eyes to be bearing down on her, but he isn’t addressing her at all. He looks instead to Baltisse, her body turned in the opposite direction.