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Not that it mattered. Orleon was a fool, far more useful as a corpse than a living prince.
“The death of your son, and the deaths of the people in Rouleine, have saved all your lives,” she said coldly.
It was the truth, and they knew it, even Robart. The fall of Rouleine was a storm cloud over the continent, the news of its overthrow spreading far and wide, shouted in the streets and country lanes.
“Saved us—from something so low as hunger,” Robart forced out, each word quavering. “They speak of it all over the Ward. The Lion of Galland is awake, and hungry. Erida’s army has no equal upon the Ward, and she will make herself empress of all the realm, with a Corblood prince at her side. No matter the cost, no matter how much blood she and her armies spill.”
There was something else he did not say, laced between his words. She could taste his terror, and felt it in the whispers that followed them all the way from Rouleine. Erida heard it on the road, and in the streets. She saw it in Robart now, and his silent courtiers.
Queen Erida controls an army of the dead.
“Are you finished?” she said, flicking her eyes over the fallen king.
Robart hung his head, dropping his eyes from Taristan. Slowly,he shuffled out of the way. Whatever fire the old king had left, it guttered and died, leaving only ashes.
A pair of servants materialized from the corner of the chamber, carrying an ornate seat between them. They put it down and Taristan ascended, taking his place at Erida’s side.
Robart watched with watery eyes, his gaze wavering between them, but he said nothing.
“You are wise to surrender, Robart.” Erida ran a hand down the arm of her new throne; the cool stone and pearl was carved into the likeness of a stallion, she noticed. “Will your daughter do the same?”
The king went white. “My—”
A delightful vindication curled around Erida’s heart. “The Princess of Madrence. Your only living heir now that Orleon is dead,” she said, steely. She did not miss the fear rippling through the courtiers in the hall. Nor the pride on Thornwall and Harrsing. “I do not see her here. Her name is Marguerite, yes? She would be fifteen by now.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Robart whimpered, falling to his knees.
Erida had learned many lessons, politics and history best of all. She knew the risk of a lost heir, and the danger of a young woman underestimated.
“The same age I was when I first sat on the throne,” she pushed on. “Whereis she?”
Robart raised shaking hands, as if to defend himself from a blow. “An Adalenian convent, near Pennaline. After her mother died, I thought it best for her education. She is a quiet child, with no aspirations to a crown; you need not worry—”
Erida cut him off with a dismissive wave, her emerald flashing. “I’m sure you are eager to see her again. May you both live out the rest of your days in quiet peace.”
“And where might that be?” Robart said hoarsely. He didn’t even have the strength to look afraid.
Thornwall crooked a finger, a silent command to his knights. A pair jumped to attention, swords drawn as they flanked the old king. Robart barely flinched, heaving a weary sigh.
“I can think of no quieter place than a jail cell.” Erida watched, stone-faced, as Robart was led away. He did not fight, and she looked to his courtiers instead, weighing their reaction. Only a few looked stricken, fewer than she’d expected. “I will not win an empire just to lose it to pretender kings and errant princesses. I will not build a glorious land only to destroy it with civil war.”
In his chair, Taristan made a small noise in his throat. Erida only shot him a warning glance.
“We have a long day ahead of us,” she whispered through clenched teeth. “Don’t make it more difficult.”
His lips twitched and he raised a hand, hiding his mouth from the chamber. “Wouldn’t it be easier to execute them all?”
Erida’s first instinct was to roll her eyes. But she caught herself, slowly turning the option over in her mind. Rouleine was a massacre, difficult to forget. The memory of it still turned her stomach.But it bought us the surrender of the entire kingdom. Would the slaughter of the Madrentine court bring us the realm?She hesitated, holding Taristan’s stare.
Then soft fingers on her arm startled her out of her thoughts. Erida turned to see Lady Harrsing standing over her, her otherhand clawed on her cane. Her face was lined with age and worry, her pale eyes locked on Erida’s. The chain of emeralds bobbed at her neck, moving with the motion of her throat. She offered a small, tight-lipped smile, before bowing her head to both Erida and Taristan.
“Your Majesty, you have won their fear,” she murmured, still holding on to the Queen’s sleeve.
Erida barely felt it, the touch light and gentle. She would have commanded away anyone else, but not Bella Harrsing. Even the Lionguard knew to leave her be.
“Go on, Bella,” Erida said, putting her own hand over Harrsing’s. Her skin was cold and white, bloodless.
Harrsing pressed in close. She smelled of rosewater. “You have their fear,” she repeated.
