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Her decision was made.
Sometime past midnight, the two men did try to rob her. She sent them both out the open window. Judging by his limping retreat, poor old Pole broke an ankle in the fall. The innkeeper and his wife tried an hour before dawn, though the wife seemed reluctant. Ridha let the blow of his rusty ax glance off her armor before warning him not to harangue travelers, especially women. This time she made sure to close the window before shoving him through it, spilling glass all over the yard below.
At least the children had done their part. Nirez was groomed and watered, well rested and ready for the long road to Kovalinn, the enclave deep in the fjords and mountains of the Jyd. Something was wrong in the north, as it was wrong at the temple.
Perhaps it was already knocking at the door, or beating down their walls.
Ridha of Iona intended to find out.
15
THE PATH CHOSEN
Corayne
Somewhere in the palace, a bell tolled. It was full dark outside, the stars like pinpricks in the windows. Dom slowed in his steps, faltering for the first time since Corayne had met him. She glanced his way, concerned. To her surprise, it was the squire who waved her off.
“He’s fine,” Andry said, sharing a look with the Elder. “Let’s keep moving.”
The Spindleblade was a nuisance. It was too long and cumbersome to wear at the hip, at least not without hitting a wall or person every time she turned, so Dom and Andry had rigged her sword belt to lie from shoulder to hip instead. She fastened her blue cloak to hide most of it from passing eyes. The sheath dug into her back, reminding her of the sword with every step. It wasn’t so difficult to carry this way, but it would be impossible to draw should she need it. Not that Corayne expected to be dueling any time soon, with the Spindleblade or anything else.
The guards knew Andry and nodded at him as he led their small group through the palace, toward the Queen’s feast. The passages became a long hall of vaulted ceilings and soaring columns supporting pointed archways. In the daylight, it would be magnificent; the windows all made of intricate stained glass. Now they were dark, the panes dull as dried blood. Some courtiers milled about the columns—couples, mostly, dancing around each other like circling predators and prey.
At the end of the long hall was a tall oak door bound in iron, cracked ajar, the sounds of music and conversation spilling out. Andry pulled it open, his smooth face set with determination. He met Corayne’s eye as he waved her through, offering her the smallest nod.
“She’ll listen,” he murmured, an assurance to both of them.
For some reason, it calmed her nerves a little, enough to keep a tremor from her hands.
Dom followed, massive and looming, his cloak thrown back to show his fine tunic and broad form. More than a few courtiers eyed him with interest as they entered the great hall, a canyon of marble and glass and candlelight. But any interest the small band conjured was fleeting. Queen Erida’s betrothal feast was well into its courses, the servants roving between tables with platters of roast meats and fresh summer vegetables. Dom dodged them all, dogged in his focus, his eyes flying to the curved wall at the far end of the room. Corayne did the same, looking up to a raised dais backed by vaulted windows and lion banners. Chandeliers dangled from the ceiling of the hall in two rows, their iron hoops as wide around as a carriage, hanging from chains of heavy link. There was a high table set with a long green runner embroidered in gold, a parade of silver plates and goblets marching the length of it. A dozen men and women sat in their raised seats, grinning and talking among themselves, most of them fair-skinned and pale-eyed. Even though Corayne had never seen her before, there was no mistaking who was the young queen.
Erida of Galland had been mentioned often in Corayne’s ledger. Her fleets patrolled Mirror Bay and the Long Sea like lions over grassland, hunting pirates and smugglers, protecting their waters. But their captains were easy to bribe. Galland was an empire in all but name, fat and sated, its borders far-flung. Its interest lay mostly in growing wealth the easy way: through trade, tariffs, and subjugation. There were the escalating border skirmishes with Madrence, the Jydi raids every summer, but nothing to interrupt their long harvests and the passage of gold. Gallish merchant vessels were bloated, slow, easy prey. Corayne expected their queen to be the same.
She was sorely mistaken.
Erida was young, that much was true, with a lovely, gentle face and skin like a polished pearl. She did not speak to the people flanking her but listened intently as they jabbered in her ears. Her face was as still as the surface of a pond. The crown on her head was gold, as was the rest of her jewelry, set with every kind of gemstone, a rainbow of emerald, ruby, and sapphire. Beneath the chandeliers, her gown flared a deep, visceral blood red, cut in crimson and scarlet, vivid as a still-beating heart. Corayne would have expected more of that Gallish green, but perhaps red was tradition for weddings? Then Queen Erida caught her gaze, her eyes a piercing blue even across the hall. She tipped her head, staring as they approached, her focus darting from Corayne to Dom and then to Andry following close behind.
Erida stood quickly, waving back the knights at the base of the high table.
“Let them pass,” she said, her voice light and musical. Giving no cause for concern.
The guards in their golden armor pressed back, allowing the trio enough room to approach. Corayne clenched her teeth, hoping Andry and Dom would do the talking. She didn’t want to explain the realm’s destruction in front of a feasting crowd.
Andry bowed quickly, nodding at several of the table occupants as well as the Queen’s knights, before honoring the Queen herself. “Your Majesty,” he said, bending low at the waist.
“Squire Trelland,” she answered, inclining her own head. “I’m glad to see you feasting with us again, after so long in your mourning,” the Queen said, clasping her hands together. “Will your mother be joining us? Lady Valeri is always welcome at my table.”
Lady Valeri is halfway to the city docks by now, if not already on board a ship bound for Kasa,Corayne knew. They had sent her off less than an hour ago, tucked into a wheeled chair with two servants for the long journey.
Andry merely shook her head. “My mother is still not well enough for feasts, I’m afraid. But I have brought two more to your great hall, Your Majesty. You would do well to listen to what they have to say.”
She did not hesitate, her courtly smile fixed in place. “Very well.”
“Alone,” Andry said, “in the privacy of your chambers. If it pleases you,” he added hastily, bowing again.
The squire is court-raised, born behind the walls of a palace,Corayne surmised, hopeful.He knows how to speak to nobles and royalty without losing some semblance of a spine.
Again, Erida ran her eyes over Corayne and Dom, weighing them both. What she saw in them, Corayne could not say.
