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“I hope you sit it beside him,” she said, truthful. “And not beneath.”
Beneath a king of ashes.
The truth burned, hotter than the fire still too close in her memory. More painful even than the scratching at the edges of her mind. Erida of Galland was not a foolish child, not anymore. She knew war, she knew politics. She knew how to balance lords and foreign kings, winter famine and summer bounty.
She knew what Taristan was, as much as she loved him.
He is a sword, not a shovel. He can only destroy, and never create.
Tears stung but would not fall.
Another voice answered her thoughts. Not Bella, but the hissing shadow of What Waits.
My price is named, he said.
The ice in her heart shattered, tearing her with it.
At her side, Erida’s good hand clenched, forming a fist. Her nails bit into her palm. She let the sting ground her and forced a false smile.
“There are few people I care for in this world, Bella,” she said. “You have been a mother to me, as much as anyone could.”
Harrsing loosed a sigh of relief, some tightness dropping in her shoulders.
“It is only what your own mother wished for, before the end,” she muttered, lowering her eyes. But not before Erida caught the gleam of unshed tears. “Someone to watch over you, and make sure you are walking the right path.”
“Am I?” Erida bit out.
“I think you still can,” the old woman answered. When she raised her gaze again, the tears were gone, replaced by steel determination. “And I can help you do it. I can free you of your burdens.”
Erida knew Lady Harrsing well enough to hear the words she would not speak aloud.I will have Taristan removed for you, if only you ask it.
A low, sucking breath whistled through Erida’s teeth. She tasted ash and blood again, as if the palace still burned around her. Whatever doubt she felt, small as it was, evaporated in an instant. Only cruel resolve remained.
“How will you be remembered, I wonder?” Erida said.
Lady Harrsing wasted no time in her response.
“Loyal. Willing to carry any burden you ask of me.”
Her pale eyes narrowed as she reached out for Erida’s hand again. The Queen did not move, letting Harrsing take her by the wrist and pull her close.
“Yes, I think so,” Erida said. The old woman’s body felt frail against her, bones poking out beneath paper-thin skin. “Loyal Bella Harrsing.”
Erida ignored the throbbing pain in her wounded hand, her arm reaching behind Lady Harrsing’s head. Her fingers closed on the pillow, wrenching it out.
The old woman’s eyes widened, her mouth dropping open to scream.
Erida was too quick.
“I relieve you of your burdens.”
She held the pillow for a long time, for many minutes after Harrsing stopped thrashing. The pressure made her hand sting and when she finally relented, pulling back, there was fresh blood on her bandages. And on the pillow too.
Erida considered the smear of scarlet for a moment before tossing the pillow aside, letting it land stain up on the ground. She cared little for evidence. It was a maid’s word against a queen’s.
On the bed, Bella lay still, her eyes closed, her mouth agape. As if only asleep.
Erida left her there. She left part of herself too.
