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Her fists curled and she wished she could throw a brazier as well. Rip down the tapestries. Tear at the walls. Do something to unleash the anger inside herself, instead of letting it sit and fester.
Konegin sneered at her in her mind, teeth flashing beneath a blond beard, his eyes like blue daggers, his face like her dead father’s. She wanted to wrap her hands around his wretched throat and squeeze.
Red Ronin flinched at the embers on the floor, twitching the edges of his scarlet robe away lest it burn too. He glanced at the single door, oak and iron, leading back to the feasting chamber. The stone hall was long empty, cleared of the court.
Erida tried not to imagine her lords and generals whispering about the attempted poisoning.Most will remain loyal. But some—enough—might not. Some want Konegin to wear my crown, even as they stand by my side.
“My concern is for the desert Spindle—” Ronin began, but Taristan fixed him with a black stare, and his voice died in his throat.
“Gone. You said as much,” Taristan growled. He shifted to pacing the floor, boots heavy on the rugs. “That bastard brat,” he added, nearly laughing. “Who knew a seventeen-year-old girl could be more of a nuisance than her golden father?”
Despite the circumstances, Erida felt a twitch at the corner of her lips. “The same has been said of me.”
Then Taristan really did laugh, his chuckle like the drag of steel on stone. But it did not reach his eyes, black with that red shadow shifting in the firelight. The demon was always in him, but never so much as now. Erida could almost feel His hatred, His hunger, as Taristan stomped back and forth across the chamber.
“The door to Meer is closed, its monsters driven back,” Ronin muttered, his hands twitching in his sleeves. Like Taristan he beganto pace, running a path between door and window. He looked sharply between prince and queen. “We can only hope enough creatures of Meer have been released already, and that they continue to plague the waters.”
“Indeed, krakens and sea serpents will do a great deal to hinder the fleets of the Ward, especially the Ibalet navy,” Erida answered. “I wonder how many of their war galleys are already at the bottom of the Long Sea?”
The loss of the Spindle, devastating as it was, did not press against her mind so firmly. The events of the evening haunted her still, too close to ignore. Better than anyone, Erida knew the dangers of a hungry court.
While Taristan prowled in front of her, the shadow pulling with him, Konegin galloped through her mind.
“You haven’t forgotten that my cousin tried to murder you an hour ago?” she said, her voice sharp.
“I still taste poison, Erida,” Taristan answered, whipcrack fast. She glanced at his mouth, thin lips pulled into a sneer. “No, I have not forgotten.”
Ronin waved a dismissive white hand. “A small man with a small mind. He failed and fled.”
“He will have half the kingdom rise against us if given the chance,” she snapped, her teeth bared. She wanted to squeeze the wizard’s weak throat too.
To her immense frustration, Taristan only shrugged. The veins along his neck stood out, like moon-white scars. “So don’t give it.”
“You know so little of kingdoms and courts, Taristan.” Erida heaved a weary sigh.If only his demon lord would gift him somecommon sense.“Invincible as you may be, strong as you are, you are nothing without my crown. If I lose my throne to that wretched, scheming troll—”
At that Taristan stopped his pacing, coming to a halt in front of her. He stared down, his black eyes seeming to swallow the world.
Still that red sheen gleamed.
“You will not, I promise you,” Taristan growled.
Erida wanted to believe him.
“Then listen to me. Both of you,” she said, snapping her fingers between prince and wizard. Her words spilled, blood from a gushing wound. “He must be tried for his crimes. Treason, sedition, attempted murder of his prince, my consort. And then he must be executed in front of every eye, every person who might sway to his cause. The court, my lords, the army, they must be given no reason to doubt my authority. I—we—must be absolute if we are to continue our war of conquest, and claim the Ward.”
Taristan took another step forward, until she could feel the wicked heat rolling from his body. His jaw tightened.
“Shall I hunt him for you?”
Erida nearly smacked the suggestion aside. She did not fear for Taristan’s well-being—he was far stronger than almost anyone in the Ward. But he was not invincible. The scars on his face, still refusing to heal, were proof of that. Whatever Corayne did left deep marks on otherwise-flawless skin. More than that, it was foolish to think that the prince consort himself would ride out into the wilderness, into a land that was not his, to find his own potential usurper. But worst of all—the idea of him going made her afraid.I do not want him to leave me,she knew, difficult as itwas to admit. Erida tried to smack that away too, turning her mind and her body from Taristan to fix her gaze on the single door in the small chamber.
On the other side was the empty feasting hall. The castle around them bristled with whispering courtiers, the fields with an encamped army.How many will Konegin lure to his side? How many will run to his flag instead of mine?
Taristan did not step back, still staring. His gaze ran over her face, searching her eyes, waiting for her to speak. Waiting for hercommand.
The thought was enticing, deliciously so. To have a prince of Old Cor, a conqueror, a warrior born and blooded, hanging upon her approval. It was intoxicating, even to the Queen. She felt a bolt of tension draw between them, like a line pulled taut. For a second, Erida wished the chittering rat Ronin were far away, but the wizard remained, simpering in the corner, his red eyes darting between queen and demon.
“You cannot be spared, Taristan,” she finally said, hoping he did not hear the tremble in her voice.
