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The legions will swallow this place whole, she thought, staring down at Iona.
Her eyes stung, her gaze fixed so intently Erida forgot to blink.
Behind her veils and beneath her armor, her skin prickled. She felt as if a thousand hooks had embedded themselves in her flesh. Each one stung only a little, dragging her down and down over the rocky terrain. The more ground she covered, the more insistently they pulled. Erida twitched her heels, urging her horse to quicken her pace.
The mare was skittish beneath her, oddly on edge. Erida wondered if the horse could sense the demon in her, or if she simply smelled the dragon wheeling higher up in the mountains.
Taristan had left her alone among her commanders. He set out withRonin and the Ashlanders under the cover of darkness, his own plans keenly drawn. Once, she might have feared for him or mistrusted his path. But What Waits did not fear, His presence calming and sure. And so Erida would not either.
Besides, they would be reunited in victory soon enough.
Lord Thornwall did not speak to her, to Erida’s delight. Her lords gave her a wide berth, letting the Lionguard surround their queen, leaving her in a pleasant cocoon of silence. She preferred it to coddling her weak nobles, some of them already pissing themselves with fear.
Erida despaired of them.We command the largest army upon the Ward. We should never fear anything, ever again.
They whispered of Ascal but she did not listen. Her mind was forward, not behind.
Earlier that morning, the scouts had reported on the Ionian defenses. As they reached the lower foothills, the distance closing, Erida could see them with her own two eyes. She almost laughed at the meager ditches around the city gates. They would barely slow her legions, let alone turn the course of the future.
Despite the war with Madrence and her conquest of the southern kingdoms, Erida had never seen a battlefield quite like this. Two armies laid out, facing each other across the barren plain. While the legions marched onward, following their captains and field officers, a guard led Erida’s horse to a rise above the chosen ground.
The flags of Galland tossed high overhead. Beneath them, her commanders assembled, Lord Thornwall chief among them. He looked small compared to his burly lieutenants or noble lords in overwrought armor. But Erida knew better than to underestimate her general.
All remained in the saddle and so did Erida, easing her horse in alongside Thornwall. Her own cloak trailed down her back and over her horse’shaunches, the green velvet trimmed with roses. Her armor was not so ornate, thicker than Erida was used to. It weighed heavy across her body, the steel gleaming. Such was the cost of being so close to battle. There was no cause for useless gilding or crowns.
“Assemble,” Lord Thornwall called from horseback.
At his command, the army formed up into endless lines, the infantry falling back to allow the knights of her heavy cavalry to take the vanguard.
It was a beautiful sight, enough to make the breath catch in Erida’s chest.
“Magnificent,” she breathed.
Next to her, Thornwall could not help but agree, his eyes alight with the flame of war.
Then the dragon swung low overhead, its jeweled body throwing off heat like a furnace. It shrieked like a raptor bird, a foul wind following in its wake. The flags tugged against their poles, while her commanders ducked low in the saddle. Even the Lionguard flinched, but Erida alone sat tall, unbothered by the Spindle monster.
The dragon answered to her husband now.
And Taristan answers to me.
In spite of her faith in him, and What Waits, Erida felt a pang of longing. Again, she squinted across the valley, looking for some dark smudge against the landscape. From the lake, not the mountains. But there was nothing. Either Taristan and Ronin were well hidden, or they were already inside the tunnels, winding up the city from the inside, like worms eating a corpse.
She sighed beneath her veils, willing her husband to succeed.
Iona looked even smaller than it had a few hours ago. Let alone any kind of prize for the Empress Rising.
It is not the city, she knew.But the girl inside it. Corayne and the Spindleblade.
The defending force seemed bigger than the enclave itself, spilling out of the city gates to take formation. Erida thought she might pity them, but felt only disgust for the soldiers marching against her. They would fight in vain and die useless deaths.
“At least ten thousand,” Thornwall muttered to one of his lieutenants, answering a question Erida did not hear. She peered at him, studying his frown.
A little of the light guttered from his eyes, his eager manner fading. Erida puzzled at it. The battlefield was the only place Thornwall truly belonged, and he attacked it with dogged determination. But his look turned grim, his lips pressed into a hard line.
“Ten thousand,” Erida laughed, smirking beneath her veil.Barely two legions.“We will run through them.”
Most of the nobles mirrored her sentiment, false as they were.
