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‘All is not what it seems,’ Thea said, her spine tingling with the realisation that once it had been Wilder trying to convince her of such things, and that she’d been determined not to believe him. ‘Artos is behind all of this. We have proof.’ She stood, motioning for Wren to come forward with the vial of empath magic.

Wren held out the tiny glass bottle. ‘Do you know what this is?’

‘The poison Harenth gifts to Warswords upon their completion of the Great Rite,’ Queen Reyna replied. She glanced at Thea and added coldly, ‘I haven’t yet decided if I should award you your Aveum springwater.’

‘I passed the Great Rite. I am a Warsword of the midrealms,’ Thea replied bluntly. ‘You forsake your own duties by refusing to do so.’

‘Don’t speak to me of duty.’

‘I’ll speak of whatever is necessary —’

‘I’m glad you mentioned the springwater,’ Wren cut in. ‘It was at King Artos’ command that your Pools of Purity were contaminated with shadow magic. It was King Artos who allowed that arachne to breach your domes on the night of the eclipse. The night your husband died, Your Majesty.’

‘Surely you know by now that he marches on Aveum with Tver’s forces?’ Anya said. ‘Your watchmen in the foothills must have reported this.’

Queen Reyna simply stared at them.

Desperation clawed at Thea’s chest. The others were counting on them to secure this alliance, to rally the winter kingdom’s numbers to their cause. Without Aveum, they wouldn’t stand a chance. ‘Artos killed King Elkan. He’s the reason your husband is dead. He’s the reason you sit before us wearing widow black right now!’

An exhale shuddered out of the queen, and when she looked up, her eyes were lined with tears.

‘Your Majesty,’ Thea implored again. ‘You have a choice… Bend the knee to the man responsible for your husband’s death, or fight.’

‘Do I look like a fighter to you?’ The queen’s words were bitter.

‘All women are fighters,’ Anya said, small wisps of shadow appearing at her fingertips. ‘Artos made me what I am. When I was just a child, he framed me for the attack on Thezmarr, the one that stoked the flames of the supposed prophecy – a daughter of darkness, a dawn of fire and blood… But it was him. He threw me to the wraiths, and this is what I became.’

Wings materialised at her back, and Queen Reyna’s face paled.

‘But I am no monster,’ Anya continued. ‘I fight against the evil that is knocking on your door. And you need to take a stand with us, with the rest of the midrealms. Without you, we are lost to the darkness.’

‘Artos has already taken Tver,’ Thea added. ‘King Leiko is under his spell. Their forces march on you as we speak.’

‘These matters are for warriors and Guardians of the midrealms.’ A tremor laced the words as they left the queen’s lips. ‘Is the state of our world not proof enough that the prophecy was right about women wielding blades? You are making it worse.’

‘That’s not true,’ Thea argued, something coming back to her from long ago. ‘In a book called The Constitution of the Founding Furies, there is a passage that reads: In times of dire need, as declared by the Guild Master, all those capable may take up arms in the name of Thezmarr, as protectors of the midrealms… Are these times not dire? Do the midrealms not need protecting?’

The queen’s throat bobbed as she studied them, their desperation clearly etched on their faces. Her own expression grew suddenly distant as she reached into the folds of her robe. Meeting Thea’s gaze, Queen Reyna offered her a vial.

‘One of the last to be bottled before the Pools of Purity were contaminated,’ the queen told her. ‘I will not fail in my duties, nor break the vows I swore to the guild. There are too many oathbreakers in these realms.’

Thea blinked as the queen pressed the small glass ampoule into her hands.

Aveum springwater.

‘I knew long before now that you would come for it.’

‘You saw that I would become a Warsword?’ Thea managed, carefully taking the vial and turning it over, watching the liquid swirl within.

‘I saw many things. Sweeping darkness. An army of monsters. Pain and suffering.’ The queen glanced at the scar on Thea’s wrist before continuing. ‘But that was not all I have seen.’

‘What else?’ Anya pressed. ‘What else have your visions shown you?’

Reyna’s eyes flicked to her. ‘Shadow and storms. A reckoning. I have seen that gold will turn to silver in a blaze of iron and embers, giving rise to ancient power long forgotten. And I have seen your fates,’ she told them. ‘They are tangled. I cannot discern one from the next, only that they meet in a dawn of fire and blood.’

A shiver raked down Thea’s spine. She could almost picture the carnage. She felt it in the marrow of her bones – a reckoning was coming, for all of them.

Silently, she pocketed her springwater, her chest tight. The fate of the midrealms did not rest on a single glass vial.