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“A small price to pay for the crowns of the Ward,” she offered quickly, almost without thought. Erida was not a senseless person, nor an unintelligent queen. “Let them know what we can do, so they may kneel before we are forced to do it again.”
That seemed to stir most, especially Thornwall. He dipped his chin in a shallow nod.
Even Ronin looked impressed, his pale yellow eyebrows allbut disappearing into his hairline. He inclined his head in her direction. His lips twitched, fighting his weasel grin, and Erida recognized an unfamiliar feeling: Ronin’s approval.
And, beyond it, What Waits.
“The gods will make it so,” Ronin said, and Erida knew exactly which god he meant.
Radolph made a noise of disgust. “Why must we still tolerate the red wizard? Be silent, you Spindlerotten imp.”
“It is you who should be silent, Lord Radolph,” Erida said hotly, cutting between them. Her eyes flashed, blue and dangerous. “Be silent or go. I have no use for cowards, or nonbelievers.”
The older lord quailed, both shocked and afraid of her sudden temper. He even took a step back. “I am neither, Your Majesty.”
“Good,” she bit out.
Radolph is a dead man,she thought, and turned back to Bella and the rest.
“This is only the beginning, my friends,” Erida said. “Rouleine is a message to all the Ward. The Lion of Galland bows to no one. And the gods are with us.”
“The gods are with us,” Taristan murmured, and Ronin quickly echoed the call. Then Thornwall, then Bella, her voice wavering. But the rest followed, joining the new cry. It filled Erida with delicious pride.
The cheering carried them all the way out of the city and back into the siege camp, where word spread among the common soldiers.Rouleine has fallen. Madrence will follow.
The gods are with us.
As she made her way back to her tent, Erida tried to imagineshe felt them.It.Her own gods or What Waits. Whatever deity watched over her and had set her on this path. If it was the red presence in her husband’s eyes, gleaming now, brighter in sunlight, so be it.
“The gods are with us?” Taristan whispered, his breath hot on her ear. He leaned in close, all but enveloping her with his presence.
“Am I wrong?” she whispered back. Her skin crawled, as if she could feel the skeletons scrambling all over her. She shuddered, fighting the sensation.
Taristan shrugged. “I suppose not.”
Never far behind, Ronin pulled a face. “What of the next Spindle?”
“If Robart values his head, the gates of Partepalas will be open to us, and the throne too,” Erida murmured, waving him off. Her tent loomed up ahead. After the morning, it looked like a sanctuary. “You’ll have your archives as quickly as you can reach them.”
“Very well,” he said, satisfied for once.
“Your Majesty!”
Thornwall’s booming call stopped Erida in her tracks. She whirled, wanting nothing more than to disappear into her bedchamber and tear off her armor. Instead she fixed her expression into something more respectful and befitting of her general. Taristan halted at her side, his usual glower still burning on his face.
Thornwall only gave him a passing glance as he approached. He moved slower in full armor, showing his age, and his bow was shallow at best.
“What of Rouleine?” he said, straightening up.
Erida wanted to shrug him off.What do I care of Rouleine now?Instead she lowered her eyes demurely. “What do you think, Lord Thornwall?”
The older commander settled back on his heels and turned to eye the city, its smoking shadow falling over the siege camp. He sighed, assessing the walls and gate. “We can leave a thousand men behind to clear the streets and make safe the city.”
“Or?” Erida prodded.
Thornwall turned grim and hard, and she saw the soldier he had once been. Talented, intelligent. And brutal.
“We burn it to the ground, and let no other kingdom build a fortress upon our border again.”
