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The small victory was bittersweet. Erida grit her teeth, loath to say what she must. “Can I not dangle myself a bit longer? I’d like to give our soldiers enough time to rally along the Madrentine border. As soon as the pretense of marriage is gone, we begin our push to the ocean. And I’d rather not fight both Madrence and Siscaria if I don’t have to.”

“I can try.” Harrsing bowed her head. “I’ll send word of your... renewed interest to the court at Partepalas.”

Thornwall scratched his beard. “I’ll do the same and alert our encampments near Rouleine.”

“Good,” Erida said. The Third Legion was already nearby, stationed among the forts and castles of the tumultuous border.Twenty thousand men will be ready to fight before the autumn sets in.“How long will they need?”

“The First Legion dispatched from the capital forts two weeks ago.” The old soldier leaned back in his chair and blew out a breath, counting out the days on his fingers. “Riding hard, on the Cor roads, without incident, I’d say the knights and cavalry would arrive in less than four weeks’ time. The infantry—swords, pikes, archers, and whatever peasant we press into picking up an ax—another two months.”

The Queen nodded. “Then buy us three, Bella.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“I’d rather be bait than a prize,” Erida said.If I am to be dangled on a hook, I’d like to do so under my own terms, for my own ends.“Well, if there are no more suitors to discuss...”

“There are plenty,” Konegin ground out.

Talk of war always emboldened her, and Erida put a hand down on the table. She leaned toward her older cousin, careful to keep her temper in check.Though women have more right to anger than men.

“And none who tempt me, or Galland,” she told him. To her delight, he drew back in his seat. “If I am to marry, I will do it for the good of my crown. To strengthen my throne instead of selling it. We are the successors to Old Cor, the rightful empire, the glory of the Ward. Find me a husband worthy of that destiny, of my father’s and grandfather’s dream. Find me a champion.”

A high bar to clear. Impossible, perhaps.And that was her aim. Set a target so small none could hit it. If the Crown Council guessed as to Erida’s true intentions, they did not say so or show it. They would not call their queen a liar, young as she was.Nor am I lying,she thought.If such a man exists, I will marry him, and wield him like the sword I cannot carry. To carve out an empire like the days of old, from one edge of the map to the other, uniting all beneath the Lion. Beneath me.

“There are the funerals to see to,” Ardath said softly, drawing Erida back from her musings. “Though we’ve had no word yet. It’s possible they never find the bodies.”

Erida nodded. She’d selected the riders herself, from the ranks of the Lionguard. To look for the corpses of Tyr and the Norths.And the army of ruin, should it exist at all.

“Body or not, they shall be buried in honor, with all the glory they earned in life. Sir Grandel, Sir Raymon, and Sir Edgar will long be in our memories,” she said, and it was the truth. The knights had guarded her since the coronation, and her father before. While she would not weep over their loss, she was upset to lose them still.

Konegin nodded in agreement, but his eyes were sharp. “What of the squire?”

The mention of Andry Trelland sent lightning through the Queen, down her spine and into her fingers.If what he said comes to pass, if what he saw in the hills was real, if a Spindle is torn, if the stories and fairy tales are true...

But Erida forced an uninterested shrug. “I’m sure another knight will take him on. He’s a fine young man; it should be no trouble to find a place for him.”

“He said nothing of his plans when he returned? Bloody and alone in the middle of the night?” Konegin pressed. Now it was his turn to lean over the table. “Again, I ask, what did he tell you?”

Though every instinct of etiquette told her to sit back, to make herself small, to smile demurely and placate her cousin with her feminine gentility, Erida did not. Her hand curled into a fist, the grand ring of state difficult to ignore. The rough-cut emerald gleamed sharply.

“Andry Trelland’s words were for my ears and mine alone,” she said. After weeks of questioning, she could recite it in her sleep. “Rambling, mostly. The boy was traumatized by the slaughter of his lord and the others. But the specifics are known. I’ve told you as much.”

“Killed by a horde of Jydi raiders, yes. All butchered but for the squire.” The lie had been an easy one to reach for, and an easy one to believe. “Seeking what we do not know, accompanied by a band of warriors without name, for a purpose we cannot fathom,” Konegin barked, slapping down a hand.

Harrsing jumped in her seat.

“Some decrepit Elder, some Spindlerotten witch calls and you send three knights without question, without even consulting us, without even telling us why. And now we must fill their empty graves!” The lord ran a hand through his hair, setting the golden strands on end.

Erida watched him collect himself with a shrewd eye.

“Your Majesty,” he added softly, an afterthought as much as a warning.

The Queen held her tongue. She felt fire in her throat, and it would not do to loose it here, kindling that could turn into a blaze.

Lady Harrsing was good enough to speak in her queen’s stead. “We have not heard nor seen the Elders in a generation,” she said primly. “Tell me, my lord, would you not have done the same? Would you not have sent men to answer a monarch’s summons?”

Erida narrowed her eyes, knowing her cousin well enough to guess.

He would have gone himself. Taken a retinue of knights and his own men-at-arms, a wagon of gifts, a parade of servants, and a pair of heralds to shout his titles and his bloodline.Make way for Lord Rian Konegin, grandson of Konrad the Great, King of Galland.He would have been a spectacle for commons and immortals alike, as close to an emperor of Old Cor as he could make himself,Erida thought. Her jaw clenched.And if I were not chained to this throne, I would have done it too.