in her
memory.
Tonight it felt both endless and far too short.
My ladies are nervous, she knew. They trailed at a distance, letting Erida walk alone. Like all but the
Crown Council, they did not know who she had chosen to wed, or why. Erida counted no confidantes
among their number. It was too dangerous to share secrets with her ladies-in-waiting, let alone befriend
any one of them. Three were daughters of Gallish nobles, and the other two came from the courts of
Larsia and Sardos. Their allegiances were elsewhere, to ambitious fathers or distant kings.
Not to me. There are no companions for ruling queens. The weight on my shoulders is far different, and
far more. My mind is my own and no one else’s.
She folded her hands together, falling into her well-practiced air of calm, though she was anything but.
Her pulse quickened with fear and anticipation. She would present her consort tonight and marry him in
the morning. It had been announced only a few days ago, and the court had not ceased its buzzing ever
since. Only the council knew her choice, and they were sworn to secrecy. To her surprise, they seemed
to have kept their oath, even Konegin.
For that, at least, Erida could be thankful.
Yet her heart pounded. He is the best choice, the only choice. And he could still be my ruin, a jailor with a
rogue smile, a king in all but name, holding my jeweled leash. It was a risk she had to take.
Lord Konegin aimed to catch her by surprise, but Erida expected him to find her before her entrance.
She was not disappointed.
“My lord,” she said as he approached, moving to cut off her train of ladies and guards.
He was nearly alone, accompanied only by a pair of knights sworn to his service. Where her own wore
green with gold, his two armored men wore tunics of gold with green, the lion roaring and reversed.
Konegin himself favored emerald from the rich leather of his boots to his brocade mantle fastened with a
jeweled pin beneath his throat.
His bow was pitiful, barely a jerk of his golden head. “Your Majesty,” he said. His chain of office winked at
his neck. “I’m glad to have found you before all this begins.”
As if you were not crouched around the corner like a hound waiting for scraps, Erida thought, forcing her
smile.
“Indeed, it has already begun if my seneschal is true,” she replied, waving a hand to the stout little man
who oversaw the palace and its doings. He cowered behind her ladies. Very few members of the royal
court cared to step between the Queen and her cousin, for no amount of gold nor glory. “The barrels are
flowing free, and I believe the wine is being passed by now. From Siscaria tonight, isn’t it, Cuthberg?
Now that the Madrentines are bothering us at the border again.”
“Y-yes, Your Majesty. Siscarian red and a Nironese vintage from Sapphire Bay for your table,” the
seneschal answered in a halting voice, though the Queen had little true interest.
She held her cousin’s piercing gaze as she held her smile. Forcefully, with all her focus.
“I must confess, I wish I saw more of your betrothed,” he said, fishing poorly. “I’ve barely been able to
speak to him.”
Erida waved a hand, dismissive. “He spends most of his time in the archives, both in the New Palace
and in the Konrada vaults.” It was the truth, easy to tell.
Konegin quirked a blond eyebrow. “A student of history?”
“After a fashion. He wants to know all he can of Galland before he joins me on her throne.”
The lord curled his lip with distaste.
“Cousin, I understand your misgivings.” She spoke as kindly she could. Konegin was a scale to balance.
He needed to know her worth, her power as queen, but not feel threatened by it, lest he be spurred to
action. “Please know I hold your counsel in the highest regard.”
Konegin pursed his lips, his beard closing over his mouth. “And yet you ignore it so easily, if you allow
me to advise you at all.”
“You have not been ignored.” Only men can speak all day long and still think themselves silent. “But the
choice is my own. You swore an oath to my father to see that through.”
“I did,” he answered sharply. “And I regret it.”
A spark of anger flared in Erida’s chest. Any word spoken against her father was a word against the
crown, the kingdom, against the blood in
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