Page 8 of Queen of War and Ruin

Lilias looks down at her hands as they twist together in her lap, then turns back to me and wipes her eyes.

“So, you’re not a prince,” she says, in a soft, low voice. “And now, I’m not a princess.”

“That’s not true,” I reply. “You were born a princess. It’s in your blood.”

She shakes her head. “Marion fell,” she whispers. “My father is—” Her voice fails, and she covers her face in her hands. Then she wipes her eyes and continues. “They’re saying Elrick abdicated, that⁠—”

“But that’s not true,” I say.

She turns to me. A single tear traces a path down her cheek. I almost reach for her, ready to wipe it away, but I stop myself.

“Your brother didn’t abdicate,” I continue. “Just because King Malrik says something doesn’t make it real.”

Lilias makes a sound in the back of her throat, like a sad laugh. I press on.

“Marion isn’t finished,” I say. “You have allies. The Seven Kingdoms won’t stand for this. If Vsenrog is allowed to swallow Marion, then all the other kingdoms are at risk. They’ll stand with your brother to protect themselves.”

“They think I started this,” Lilias replies. “That I left you and ran off to be with Prince Laurance in Ethiria.”

“Then we should start with Ethiria. After we tell your brother what happened.”

As the words come out of my mouth, I realize I’ve been thinking about this since I crawled into that dark little carriage to wait for my wife. Marion can’t stand alone against Vsenrog. Hells, that war is over already; Marion has a handful of royal guards and men-at-arms, not an army. I’m sure Malrik has already taken the palace of Marion.

But Ethiria should stand with Elrick. Marion and Ethiria have more blood ties than a royal tapestry has threads. Together, they could inspire the other allied kingdoms to stand against Vsenrog. Especially if Lilias can convince her brother to marry into one of the other kingdoms, perhaps one of the princesses from Lisal⁠—

Lilias laughs, cutting off my spinning thoughts.

“How in the gods’ many names,” she says, with an expression on her face that’s almost a smile, “are we going to get to Ethiria?”

I grin at her, although there’s an old, familiar ache in my chest, like a knife that was buried between my ribs long, long ago. I think of Prince Zarek, the real prince of Dungal, living in this beautiful valley with the wife he chose, and I shake my head.

“By horseback, presumably,” I reply. “I don’t much fancy walking that far.”

She laughs again, a real laugh this time, golden and sparkling in the dappled sunlight, and my gods, she’s a beautiful woman. She’ll be a splendid queen someday.

I turn away as that ache in my chest sharpens. Beyond the garden, the lake sparkles in the light, its ruffled waves breaking up the reflection of the distant peaks. In the alleyway in Marion, Petrys told me this valley is where what remained of the royal court of Dungal fled, this tiny village deep in the mountains. He said to hold the ashes up when we entered and we’d be granted safe harbor.

I didn’t ask why he’d never told me about this place before. The answer was obvious; I was too close to King Malrik, and Malrik has ways of making people talk. This place was too important, too beautiful, to risk sharing with me.

Beside me, Lilias sighs. “It’s a shame,” she says, in a voice so soft it’s almost a whisper. “I could get used to staying here.”

I nod. I don’t trust my voice enough to speak.

Chapter 5

Lilias

RUINS

“Someone’s coming,” Zarek says, under his breath.

I tense, and the horse I’m riding pricks her ears, suddenly nervous. I stare down at the long, rolling valley unfurling below us. We left the village beside the lake early this morning, traveling west to reach the road that will take us past Vsenrog and back into Marion.

Or what used to be Marion, at least.

I reach down to pat the mare’s neck, trying to reassure her. It only took us a few hours to reach the road. It stretches in the sun below us like a long, dark serpent.

And it’s empty. There’s nothing on the road below us but dust and wind. I don’t see any sign of travelers anywhere in the valley, which is a little surprising. The grass is thick and lush here, and so green it’s almost glowing. We’ve passed a few decrepit farmhouses still standing sentinel over their long-abandoned fields, but nothing that’s still inhabited.