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“This way,” Ronin said, and shuffled off down the street,heading deeper into Rouleine. He showed no fear at all, even as he passed massacred bodies and smoldering ruins.
For once, Erida felt inclined to follow the red wizard. She did so with purpose, her Lionguard falling into step with her, their swords and shields at the ready. Her dread faded with every passing minute. She grew accustomed to the smell of blood. Every body they passed was the price of empire, the cost of her new throne. She let her eyes slide over each corpse, barely seeing, until the bodies were as broken doors and burned buildings. Collateral damage, and nothing more.
Behind her, the nobles were growing more upset by the second. One of them vomited, and more than a few turned back to the gate. The Queen did not care. She had no interest in their weakness.
The city garrison was small, as evidenced by the fewer and fewer soldiers she saw crumpled along the way. There were signs of the Ashlanders too. Severed limbs, rotting bone. Notched swords, half-decayed corpses in rusty armor. The Madrentines had fought back.But not enough.
When they reached the market square, Erida bit her lip to stifle a gasp. She kept her head up and her eyes forward, unwilling to break. Behind her, though, many nobles did. Their cries of surprise echoed through the smoky air.
The horde stood before them, terrible and staring, too many of them to count. They filled the wide market square, packed together like a school of cursed fish.
“The Army of Asunder,” Ronin breathed, spreading his arms wide as he bowed, facing the many thousands of skeleton soldiers.
They were even more horrible in daylight. The corpse armyseemed plucked from a nightmare, unreal but standing right before her eyes. They spread from the square, waiting in every street and alley behind their unbroken front line. There was no commander Erida could see, no organization beyond their ranks. Nothing to control the swarm of Ashlanders beyond what she could only assume was What Waits and—
“Kneel to your queen.”
Taristan’s voice was low and gruff, barely a growl, but it echoed across the square and down Erida’s spine.
The corpses did as commanded, lurching forward in a faltering mess of flesh and bone. Their armor and weapons clanked like a thousand chattering insects. More than a few skulls dislodged and rolled across the stone square. Erida didn’t know whether to laugh or be sick.
“My queen.”
Thornwall stuttered at her shoulder. He was bone white beneath his beard, his small eyes fixed on the corpses, his mouth opening and closing like a fish plucked out of the water.
“Your Majesty, what are they?” he forced out. “What is this?”
At his back, the nobles mirrored his terror. The Lionguard were not much better, trembling in their armor, their swords raised to fight. In their midst, even Lady Harrsing quivered. The usually unflappable Bella went pale as a ghost, her face drained of any color. She alone tore her eyes from the Ashlanders and found the queen, studying her face, searching for something.
Her lips moved without sound.Erida?she mouthed, stricken with horror.
Erida looked back at the Ashlanders, now kneeling, their headsor whatever remained of them facing the ground. But for their decaying bodies and exposed bone, they could be her legions, dutiful and loyal unto death.
And that is what they are.
Before anyone else could speak for her, Erida spun on her heel, putting her back to the Ashlanders even though every instinct in her body screamed otherwise. She needed to look unafraid and powerful, not a young girl but a woman crowned, a ruler in every quivering inch of her body.
“I am the Queen of Galland, and I will be Empress of Cor Reborn,” she said, her voice steel. The words rang out through the square, echoing in the eerie silence. Even her nattering nobles fell quiet. “I live the dream of my forefathers, your kings, your own blood, who died for what we will build together. Alongside Prince Taristan, I will forge a new empire with Galland at its heart, the brightest jewel in a mightiest crown. I sit upon the throne of the world, with all of you beside me.”
They stared back at her, thin-lipped, their eyes darting between Erida and the skeletons. She swallowed and wished for a sword. But she had a better weapon, something no one could even see.
“And the gods will it too,” she said. Instead of raising her brow, she lowered it, and kissed her palms in holy reverence. A few of the nobles, the more religious ones, responded in kind. She noted each one. They would be the easiest to sway.
Thornwall narrowed his eyes and tipped his head. “The gods?” he asked, perplexed.
Erida raised her face and smiled. “Who else but the gods could raise an army such as this?” she said, spreading her arms wide,letting her green cloak fall back so the sun illuminated every curve of her ceremonial armor. “Look upon the blades of Syrek, the soldiers of Lasreen. This army is the work of our gods, their own will made real in this realm.”
Behind her, the corpse army continued to kneel. Erida tried to see what her retainers saw, if only so she could manipulate their perspective further. Every performance she’d ever given, in the council chamber, in the throne room, in the feasting hall—every single one had been training forthis.
She brought her hands to her heart, her royal emerald glowing. “We are the chosen ones, blessed to bring about a new age of glory.” Then she extended one palm again, beckoning to them all. “Will you join me in it?”
Most hesitated to answer, but Lord Radolph frowned, his small body coiling up like a snake. “These creatures, they aren’t natural, they aren’t—godly,” he spat, still eyeing the skeletons. His face took on a green, sickly pallor.
To Erida’s surprise, Bella looked sick too.
The old woman puffed out a breath. “So much blood,” she murmured, looking back along the streets.
But Erida was undeterred, even by Bella’s misgivings.
