Her hand grew clammy in mine, a sign of nerves.
“You may keep your head. As penance, you shall be sentenced to twenty years’ hard labor. May your life serve Radaan better than your death.”
Pride swelled in my chest.
The young man collapsed, blubbering through incoherent sobs, expressing his undying gratitude. The guards helped him down the stairs.
But the people?
Radaanians stared at Nienna—the vengeful queen who ordered her dragons to kill hundreds, who destroyed a fleet—an entire generation of warriors. Their stares, young and old, weighed her judgment in silence.
Then someone clapped.
An old crone, pale face tucked deep in her shawl. Her withered hands slapped together with a crack that startled the multitude. Her sagging cheeks lifted with a pleased smile, and she clapped again.
Then another joined in. And another. I allowed myself a smile, thumb tracing light circles on Nienna’s hand as a shiver ran through her.
Mercy and justice. Two sides of the same coin, two lovers entwined.
She lifted her chin, confident enough to continue without seeking my approval. “Next.”
Perhaps she wasn’t the queen Radaan expected, but she was the queen they needed.
The queen I needed.
“Three days. I’ll not have the execution of the traitors marring the eve of my wedding day.”
Thoughts raced, Fallione’s presence like an outlet. I could let them all out, and he would put everything in place. A loyal friend. Dependable. One I couldn’t replace.
“It will be done. Many of the mayors are due to arrive tomorrow, giving them time to settle with their heirs before the ceremony.”
“Good. I want as many people there as possible. You’ve built the bridge further north?” I passed Claus and Lynx with a nod, striding into my rooms.
“The craftsmen finish tonight. Countless will witness the handfasting and mingling.”
“And our men are stationed along the river?”
Greaves and Fallione followed as I sorted through overcoats, searching for one proper for dinner after a day of death.
“Downstream for three miles, and Rider Nakos has agreed to pace the stretch, monitoring it.”
I scoffed, seizing a brown jacket embroidered with leaves the color of burnished brass. “Blood diluted in twenty paces of still water. That’s a bit much.”
A formal element of any Radaanian wedding—the blood mingling—when the king and queen let their life flow into the river Hesoth, feeding the southern farmlands. A symbol of our bond with the land and our shared duty to nurture its growth.
Nienna knew the ceremony; she’d prepared to complete it with Tallon.
Sick satisfaction slithered through me, and I frowned at the matching vest. She wasmyqueen. I saw her value, her strength. I loved her. At my side, she was blooming into one of the greatest queens Radaan would ever know.
Tallon could’ve had this. I could have remained cold and distant if he had only appreciated her, valued her. But he tossed her away, mocking her worth.
“I would rather err on the side of caution.” Fallione stepped aside as Greaves pushed past to the vanity, checking his blades were neat and in order.
“I’m not opposed.” I shook my head as I set out my clothes, then unfastened my mantle. “There are plenty of Velli still at large. It would be the perfect time for them to strike.”
The door opened. Nienna’s voice reached me first, then she bustled into the room, Freya close behind.
“Oh!” Her eyes went wide, and her lips pressed tight as she patted her hair.
