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Erida

“We were lucky, Your Majesty.”

Wounded hand or not, Erida wanted to rip Lord Thornwall’s head from his bowed shoulders.

As Taristan stood at her side, the commander of her armies knelt before her seat. Thornwall still wore his armor, hastily donned the night before, when ratty pirates decided to burn down half of Ascal. He was red-faced, flushed with shame, embarrassment, and fear above all things. Erida could smell it on him.

She ached for her throne, for a crown, for any trapping of the mighty queen she’d made herself into. But Erida was just herself, small in a wrinkled dress, with no gold, no jewels, no furs, seated on an ordinary chair in the cathedral.

She only had her spine. That, at least, was made of steel.

“Four ships of the fleet at the bottom of the canals,” she said through clenched teeth. Fire burned through her body as it had burned through her city. “Ten more incapacitated for gods know how long. Fleethaven half in ruins. My palace is in ashes and those rioting fools out in the streetswill burn the rest of the city down if given the chance. Pirates infiltrated my ownnavy yard, Lord Thornwall. Sea rats bestedyoursoldiers!”

Behind Lord Thornwall, his many attendants and lieutenants shuddered. They were smart enough to keep their eyes on the floor, still kneeling like Thornwall. Her own courtiers, including her ladies and even Lady Harrsing, knew to make themselves scarce. They would spare themselves the Queen’s anger.

“And you say we werelucky, Lord Thornwall?”

Her voice echoed off the marble, the only sound in the world besides Erida’s own ramming heartbeat.

“Most of the fleet is still intact, albeit scattered.” Thornwall’s leg quivered beneath him. He was not accustomed to kneeling for so long. His old body could not stand it.

Still, Erida did not gesture for him to rise.He does not deserve to stand.

“The galleys lost were not our heavy warships,” he added hastily, as if it meant something.

Erida curled her lip.

“No, Lord Thornwall,” she replied icily. “Our warships are merely trapped in their own docks at Fleethaven, until the city engineers can be bothered to dig out the wreckage.”

The commander gave another twitch.

“Precedence should be given to the civilian ships still waiting at anchor,” he said, half a whisper.

“Of course it will be,” Erida snapped, disgusted.Would that those ships burned instead of my own, and shut up every yowling sailor in Wayfarer’s Port.“The ships are not trapped here by my hand,” she seethed. “Anymore.”

After hunting through the locked-down streets of Ascal, Erida hadhad no choice but to open the city gates and harbors. Lest the entire city rise in revolt against her and tear down her walls with their own two hands. Crowds had broken through the gates like waves, streaming out in every direction.

Within the walls of the Konrada, she could not see the sky, but enough red light seeped through the stained-glass windows. It unsettled her here as it did in Partepalas, when the strange scarlet haze spread across the horizon. Enough of her knew to blame herself. And Taristan. And What Waits.

His influence was seeping into the world, bit by bit.

She could feel it in her own fingertips, a soft buzz like the hum of bees in a grove.

Thornwall took her silence for fury. He stammered, watery eyes crinkled above his beard.

“I have already sent word through the kingdom, to every castle, fort, outpost, and broken old watchtower,” he said, half-pleading. “They will be found, Your Majesty. The Elder and the Amhara.”

She twisted on her chair. The very mention of Domacridhan and his Amhara whore made her skin crawl. She saw them both out of the corner of her eye, ghosts lingering just beyond her grasp. The Elder in his stolen armor, the golden steel streaked with blood. The Amhara with her empty expression, dull but for gleaming copper eyes. She was a snake in human skin.

Beside her, Taristan loosed a hissing breath. Like the Queen, he had since procured some more suitable clothing. He looked like his old roguish self, dressed simply, a new sword belted at his waist.

“Just as Corayne an-Amarat was found, Lord Thornwall?” he said, as if scolding a child. “And Konegin too?”

Konegin.

His name ripped down her spine and Erida stood, all but lunging onto her feet. Beneath her, Thornwall flinched.

“I am Queen of Four Kingdoms, the Empress Rising,” she said, half snarling. “And I cannot even hunt an old man properly, let alone a teenage girl. What hope do we have for a trained Amhara and an immortal Elder?”