flush and the sly glances passed around her ladies-in-waiting, no one would
object.
That left only the Lionguard to accompany her, the six knights in their golden armor, their green cloaks
like spring among the dark thorns. More than a few snagged on the climb up the hill.
Again, Erida felt Prevail in her hand, the marriage sword planted between herself and her husband, their
defense against the world. And each other.
A vaulted arch remained where the doors to Vergon’s great hall used to be, half choked by an ash tree.
Its leaves were tinged yellow, another herald of autumn. She paused, laying a hand against rough bark.
“I’ll call for you if needed,” she said, glancing at her escort.
The knights stared back, stern beneath their helms. They wanted to refuse, she knew. Before the
changing of her world, she would have heeded their judgment. But the Lionguard could do little if Taristan
and the wizard turned on her. Her husband could not be harmed by weapons of the Ward. His
accomplice was Spindletouched, crawling with magic. It made no difference if her knights followed at
close range or waited for her screams, to come charging to glory and death.
Sir Emrid made a noise low in his throat when she turned her back, stepping through the archway. He
was only a year older than the Queen, the newest recruit to the Lionguard, and the least disciplined. She
kindly ignored his attempt to check the Queen of Galland, leaving her knights behind.
The roof of the great hall was gone, broken all over the ruins in ragged piles of stone and mortar. Moss
lay across everything in a velvet blanket, the stone blocks like lumps beneath. It was springy under her
feet, soft to walk on. Her boots left light indentations. So had his.
She followed the footprints.
Erida felt the all too familiar sensation of being watched. She wondered if the ghosts of the people who
used to live here still clung to the stones. Were they following her now, whispering about the Queen of
Galland as the rest of the world did?
She imagined what they might say. Married to a nobody. Four years a queen with nothing to show for it.
No conquest, no victory.
Just wait, Erida told them. There is steel in me yet.
She found Taristan and the wizard in the old chapel, in front of the single intact window, its glass blue
and red and golden. The goddess Adalen wept sapphire tears over the body of her mortal lover, his
chest torn open by hounds of Infyrna, a realm of fire and judgment. Their forms retreated in the back of
the glass, burning and unholy. Erida knew the scriptures. Adalen’s mortal gave his life to save the
goddess from the fiery hounds. Strange, the scriptures never gave him a name.
Red Ronin knelt near the window but did not pray to it. Instead he put his back to the goddess while he
whispered, eyes shut, his voice too low to hear. In the shadows of the chapel wall, Taristan prowled, a
tiger with naked claws. His courtly attire was abandoned, traded for rough leathers and the same
weatherworn cloak he’d first arrived in. He looked as far from queen’s consort as a man could be. The
Spindleblade flashed in his hand, drawn from its sheath. The steel was clean, a mirror to the blue-and-
white sky.
His eyes met Erida’s like lightning finding the earth.
She stopped walking, holding her ground. The air crackled between them, the work of a Spindle. Torn or
close enough to feel. Burning or willing to burn. She sucked in a breath of air, wanting to taste it.
“Is it done?” she said, her eyes darting.
But the chapel looked unremarkable. Old stone, broken rocks, moss and roots. The trees weren’t old
enough to form a new roof. She saw nothing out of place, nothing to hint at a Spindle torn, a realm
opened, another gift given, be it an army or a monster.
“Not yet,” Taristan answered, his voice as deep as she remembered. She could still feel his fingers in
her hair, still see his blood on her bed.
Erida glanced to Ronin, then back to the broken castle around them.
She took another breath. She couldn’t taste a Spindle, but she tasted truth. “An earthquake destroyed
this place two decades ago. People said it was the will of the gods, or a simple act of nature. But that isn
’t true, is it?” Sunshine filled the window, making Adalen glow. “There is a Spindle here,
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