Page 44 of Queen of War and Ruin

I grit my teeth. Gerard is right. The attack will come from the mountains, past the Dragon Mine where Syvan’s army drugged me and handed me over to Fyrris. I glance down at my hands and try to swallow the bitterness rising in the back of my throat.

I still can’t bring myself to call it magic, whatever it was that the man in white robes used to pull something horrible out of that mountain. And the gods only know why he needed me. I had to make the king of Vsenrog invested, Fyrris said.

But it was more than that, gods help me. I shiver as the memory rises through the misty layers of things I’d much rather forget. I was standing in Malrik’s chambers as the tailor fitted me for the outfits I’d wear on our sham of a unity tour. Malrik entered, with the strange man in his white robes. My skin crawled and my gut pulled tight. Such potential, the man in white said as he examined me like I was a side of meat in the marketplace.

I shake my head, trying to shove down the flood of memories. Magic belongs to elves and dragons, damn it, and there’s nothing special about me. Nothing magical. The sooner I forget what that bastard did to me beneath the mountain’s roots, the better.

We took a longer route over the mountains, specifically to avoid the Dragon Mine on this trip to Ethiria. It was Elrick’s suggestion, and I was only too happy to agree. If I never see that place again, it’ll be too soon.

But if Malrik’s army were to take the road past the mine, and if they traveled light, they could be at Ethiria’s doorstep in a matter of days. Hells, they might already be on that road for all we know.

“That would be lovely,” Elrick says, pulling me out of my thoughts. “Your defenses are fascinating. I’m especially interested in your army.”

Army. Right. Laurance keeps saying he has one, but we saw no barracks, no supply lines, and no evidence of an armory. Whatever Laurance is playing at, it’s not warfare.

Laurance laughs like Elrick’s suggestion is a joke. “As if I’d share all my secrets with you!” he replies. “But I can tell you, they are impressive. I designed the uniforms myself. I’ve got quite a talent for that, everyone says so.”

I drain my wine glass. If I have to listen to much more of this, I’m going to murder the prince of Ethiria myself and save Malrik’s army the trouble. Finally, Laurance pushes back from the table.

“You,” he says, pointing to Elrick. “Come with me. We can continue our discussions with a little more privacy.”

That horrible whisper of intuition pulls tight against the back of my neck. Leaving with the prince of Ethiria seems like a terrible idea. But, hells, it’s not like Elrick is going to take advice from me. So I grit my teeth as Elrick follows Laurance out of the room.

Something is wrong here, deeply wrong, and I think it goes beyond this fool of a prince. I need to get out of here, to talk to people in the castle. I glance at the doors, but there are people waiting at every one, servants and guards, all with their eyes on us, hard and heavy. Watching the snake of Vsenrog and his bride, the woman who started the war.

Shit. A serving woman clears the last of the wine glasses, and another woman follows her, bowing before us.

“If you’ll follow me,” she says, “I’ll show you to your room.”

It sounds less like a polite invitation and more like a command. Lilias comes to her feet. I turn to Gerard, who’s scowling in the seat next to me. The man hates me, but it’s not like I have any other option.

“Gerard,” I whisper.

Gerard looks at me like he’s trying to determine the best place to sink a knife into my body.

“The stables,” I say, under my breath. “See how many horses are missing. See if there are any others who’ve just arrived.”

“Fuck you,” Gerard replies.

I come to my feet, smiling politely. It was worth a shot, I guess.

I grab a bottle of wine off the sideboard as I leave the room. No one even tries to stop me.

Chapter 25

Zarek

NOTHING IS NORMAL

The serving woman leads us up a flight of stairs, down a hallway, and up a second flight of stairs. My heart sinks as I count the steps. Four stories. So much for going out through the window.

The woman opens a door, then waves us inside. And I stop like I just smacked headfirst into a stone wall.

Right. One room. One bed.

Lilias walks through the door with her back straight and her head held high. The serving woman says something, and Lilias replies, but my brain doesn’t catch a single word. I’m too focused on the single bed. It’s easily half the size of the bed in my room in Vsenrog.

We’re going to be very cozy in that bed, me and the woman I said I’d divorce.