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Erida fought the urge to roll her eyes.

“I trust Holg’s ability to defend Byllskos in my absence. Especially against coward princes who flee at the first sign of danger.”

“We lost nine ships to the pirates on the Empress Coast.” Thornwall’s face darkened.

Erida shrugged. “Pirates scatter at the first sign of danger. They are scavengers at best.”

“Scavengers,” he agreed, nodding. “But smart, organized somehow. They’re infiltrating harbors under true flags and good papers of passage. Sweeping past patrols only to rob treasuries and set fire to ports. I see no end to it, not unless we shut down passage entirely.”

He drew a deep breath. “I believe they have allied with the Tyri princes.”

Erida all but laughed outright.

“I’ve never heard of such a preposterous thing,” she said. “The princes hunt pirates for sport. Theirs is a long history of bloodshed.”

Next to her, Lady Harrsing sighed. “A common enemy makes strange allies.”

“I care little for the errant princes, and even less for ramshackle pirates,” Erida snapped, feeling her patience run thin.

“You gained three crowns of the Ward in as many months, Your Majesty,” Thornwall said, swiftly changing the subject. He eyed her brow, where Erida would soon wear a crown fit for an empress. “It is no small thing, what you have done.”

Since her coronation, Erida knew Thornwall’s great value. He was intelligent, strategic, brave, loyal, and, strangest of all, honest. Erida saw it in him now, tentative as he was.

“Thank you,” she said, and genuinely meant it.

Lord Thornwall was not Erida’s father, but she valued his praise just the same. And as commander of Galland’s armies, Lord Thornwall knew more of war than almost anyone else. A corner of his mouth twitched, betraying a frown.

“Kneel or fall,” he murmured, echoing the words now rippling across the realm. “The threat worked on Siscaria and half of Tyriot.”

Thornwall looked down at his hands. They were callused by the hilt of a sword, his fingers ink-stained by maps and paperwork.

“Larsia will follow, still weary of war.” He ticked off a finger, counting. “Perhaps the border kingdoms will as well. Trec, Uscora, Dahland, Ledor. Gods know they hate the Temur more than they hate you, andwould rather be your ally than be caught between a Temurijon cavalry and a Gallish legion.”

Erida watched his face intently, as she would any courtier. She saw weariness in him, and conflict.Torn between his loyalty to me, and his own weakness, Erida thought, clenching her teeth.

“But Ibal, Kasa, the Emperor of the Temurijon.” Thornwall met her gaze sharply.

Erida kept her face still, even as frustration rose up inside her.There is fear in him too.

“Those are wars, the likes of which this realm has never seen,” Thornwall said, his words like a plea. “Even with the continent beneath you. Even with Taristan beside you.”

She heard what he would not say.

You will not win.

His faithlessness was like a slap across the face.

“We are Old Cor reborn, Taristan and I.” Her voice went hard and unyielding as steel. “The empire is ours to reclaim and rebuild. It is the will of the gods as much as my own. Or have you lost your faith in the gods, in holy Syrek, who drives us to victory?”

Her usual tactic worked almost too well.

Her commander flushed and blustered, set off balance by an invocation of his god.

“Of course I have faith,” he sputtered, collecting himself.

Lady Harrsing gave a cluck of her tongue. “It is the will of the gods, Lord Thornwall.”

The will ofagod, at least, Erida mused to herself. At the thought of Taristan’s master, Erida’s stomach twisted, and warmth bloomed in her chest. She dropped her furs entirely to keep from sweating.