Page 137 of Queen of War and Ruin

Lovely. That’s always a wonderful way to start a conversation. My jaw clenches, and I try to remind myself to breathe.

“But, you’ve un-fucked things, right?” he asks, under his breath.

“What?”

Petrys looks down at his feet, like he’s embarrassed.

“I mean,” he begins, “you’re probably not going to have much of a chance for a private conversation with her once we meet up with her brother, right?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I say, with as much patience as I can muster.

Petrys rolls his eyes. “Look. I can’t tell if you’re avoiding her on purpose or if being an asshole just comes naturally to you,” he says. “But you told me you’d fucked things up with your wife and, as far as I can tell, you’ve only spoken to her once since she saved your sorry ass.”

“That’s not true,” I snap.

And then I realize it is true.

We talked the morning I found her on watch duty. When I apologized for being such a pathetic excuse for a husband, and then I could not stop myself from kissing her like my life depended on it.

And that’s it. We’ve spent the rest of the trip riding hard at night and collapsing from exhaustion when the sun rises. Gerard keeps waking her up for watch duty, which annoys the piss out of me even though I know it shouldn’t.

It just seems like another way I’ve failed. That I can’t even protect my wife from having to wake up and watch for the armies chasing her down. Because of me.

Petrys stares at me like he can read my mind, and it’s very disappointing.

“All I’m saying is this,” he tells me. “If you haven’t talked about it, you should. Now. It’s not going to be easier to un-fuck your marriage once you’re surrounded by your in-laws, right?”

“Godsdamnit,” I mutter. “Why do you care?”

Petrys stares at me until I realize I’m being an asshole again. I run my hand over my face and shake my head.

“Sorry,” I say. “It’s just, Marion doesn’t want this marriage. Being married to the snake of Vsenrog means absolutely fuck all right now, and Prince Elrick knows it. I have nothing to offer a princess.”

Petrys snorts. “This,” he says, “is not a conversation you should be having with me.”

I grumble a string of curses under my breath, because he’s right and I hate it. I rub the back of my neck, where my skin feels tight and prickly, then glance back over my shoulder.

“You keep doing that,” Petrys says.

I raise an eyebrow at him.

“You hear something?” he asks, looking into the darkness behind us like he’s expecting the entire army of Vsenrog to come charging down the pass.

“No,” I say, shaking my head. “It’s nothing.”

Nothing I can explain, anyway. Ever since we crossed the pass separating Vsenrog from what used to be the Kingdom of Marion, I’ve felt—something. It’s almost like the prickle of magic, that strange, tight feeling that crawled across my skin and twisted my guts every time Varitan attacked me.

But it’s not quite the same. It doesn’t hurt.

I press my fingers against the silver chain in my pocket, as if reassuring myself that it’s still dull and inert. And of course it is. Whatever I did in Vsenrog used all the magic it had.

We turn a corner in the narrow, rocky path, and the valley opens up before us like a bowl filled with shadows. A long, thin ribbon of light snakes through the darkness, gleaming like the predawn sky.

“Oh,” I gasp.

“What is it?” Petrys asks, suddenly wary.

“Nothing,” I reply, shaking my head. “I just— I know where we are.”