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Konegin was undeterred. He glanced at Derrick and Thornwall, looking for support. “I’d like to summon the squire and hear his story for myself.”

After four years of rule, Queen Erida was as skilled an actress as any of the pantomime players on the stages of the Ascal streets. Her strength flagged as she bowed inward, her shoulders drooping as she shut her eyes. She passed a hand over her face.

“Trelland’s agony is my burden to bear, Lord Konegin. Mine alone,” she said wearily. “That is the cost of the crown.”

A crown you will never claim.

It was enough to placate even Konegin, who retreated like a shattered army.

Erida dropped her hand, and her mask of sympathy. Her face turned cold as she stood from the table, dismissing them with her action.

“Konegin still has not presented his son as a suitor.”

Only Harrsing stayed behind. Even Erida’s Lionguard had retreated to the hallway, giving their queen a private audience with the old woman. The two stood by the largest window, watching the river as it carried on to Mirror Bay. Green freshwater swirled with darker salt. On the far bank, the famed Garden of Ascal stretched along its island, its trees and flowers manicured to perfection. Despite the heat, nobles and the wealthy merchants of the capital strolled the lawns and paths of the Garden, their shrieking children in tow.

Erida contemplated the greenery across the water. She’d played there as a child, surrounded by a circle of knights. As the only heir of the king, her life was more precious than any treasure.I never even skinned my knees. There was always someone to catch me.

With a sigh, she turned to face her advisor. The usual headache thrummed at her temples.

“Because Konegin wants to take my country by force instead of marriage. He’d rather sit the throne himself than put a grandchild upon it peacefully,” she said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “He’ll only push Herry at me when he has no other choice.”

Heralt Konegin, the Prince of Toads.An apt nickname for Erida’s mean, squat, and croaking cousin, who did little but drink and stare, fog-eyed. Her stomach twisted at the thought of having such a person foisted upon her.

“There are still suitable partners,” Harrsing said, gently guiding Erida away from the window. The Queen allowed herself to be led. “Easy to control, rich in land, gold, armies. Good men who will protect you and your throne.”

Protect me.Erida wanted to retch.There is no man upon the Ward who would not take my crown if he could, nor one who is worth the risk of losing it.

“I decide who is suitable, Bella. And so far, I have seen none,” she said. Though the old woman returned her to the table, it was Harrsing who leaned heavily on the Queen’s arm. While her health was certainly better than Ardath’s, there was no denying the age that weighed on Bella. Erida winced at the thought of losing her, and she forced a smile instead. “No, not even your Ibalet princeling,” she said, winking at the old woman. “Who you so often forget to mention is yourgrandson.”

Harrsing shrugged with a wry smile. “I just assume it’s common knowledge.”

“Indeed,” Erida mused.

The map wall of the council chamber flashed with light rippling off the river. It seemed to dance, the lines of rivers and coasts and kingdoms bending and changing. Erida watched and, for a moment, saw no kingdoms at all. None but her own, in every corner of the Ward. She stopped before the painting, her face raised.

“Before his death, my father made his wishes known,” she said. “They are easy to remember. There were only two.”

Harrsing bowed her head. “Erida of Galland chooses her own husband. None shall be forced upon her.”

Again Erida ached in her chest, and wished her father were still alive. His decrees held weight, even in death, but they would not protect her forever. And while Erida was queen, she was a woman first, in the eyes of most.Untrustworthy, unfit, too weak to rule. History gorges itself on women raised high and then brought low by men grasping for their power. I will not be one of them. I will not lose what my father gave me.

I will make it greater.

On the map, the golden city of Ascal gleamed.

“My father also said Galland is the glory of the Ward, Old Cor reborn, an empire to be remade.” The old Cor roads, straight and true, were stark against the map, inlaid with precious stones. They bound the great cities of the Ward, spreading over the old borders. “I do not intend to disappoint him.”

Harrsing grinned in approval. “The Crown Council is with you.”

Until they aren’t,Erida knew.Until they find someone else they’d rather stand behind.Even Bella Harrsing, who had known her since birth, who had served her father before her—even she would abandon Erida if the need came. If a better opportunity presented itself.

“That poor squire,” Harrsing carried on, pulling them away from the map and the council table. “I can’t get him out of my mind. Having to watch his lords be slaughtered by those northern animals.”

A sour taste filled Erida’s mouth. Usually Harrsing was far less obvious in her needling.Who has the boy been speaking to?

“A tragedy, to be sure,” Erida said demurely, her eyes downcast.

Heroes murdered, Spindles torn, a madman with an army. The entire realm in danger.Erida mulled over his harried ranting again.Truth or madness?Still she could not say.