making, perhaps too long for some of you,” the Queen
continued. Behind her, a few members of her council exchanged knowing smirks and the edges of
laughter. Erida took it well in stride. “But with the aid of my illustrious council, I have come to a decision,
and upheld the will of my father, King Konrad, who built all you see before you.” Erida put out one
glittering hand and gestured to the vaulted ceiling, the columns, the great glass arches and rose
windows of the hall. “His wish for me, and for Galland, was one we all share. We are Old Cor reborn, the
glory of the realm, heirs to an empire we are destined to rebuild. With my husband at my side, I intend to
fulfill that destiny.”
Among the tables, several courtiers raised their goblets and drank deeply. A few cheered in agreement.
Even her cousin, the surly nobleman, banged his fist on the high table.
Corayne felt the thud of it in her chest, like a war drum. Next to her, Andry flinched. There was sweat on
his lip, an odd shallowness to his breath. Corayne furrowed her brow and put a hand to his wrist. His
skin felt clammy and cold.
“Andry?” she whispered. “It’s all right. Your mother needs you, and no one will blame you for leaving to
protect her.”
The squire drew a shaky breath, his lean chest rising and falling.
“I thought I heard—did she ask you about the Spindleblade?” he whispered.
Corayne frowned, confused. “Yes.”
Andry took her hand without breaking his gaze, his eyes never leaving Erida’s face. She felt a jolt as his
fingers joined with her own. Then his lips pulled back, baring his even white teeth. It was not shame on
his face, or regret.
Terror.
“I never told her about the sword,” he breathed, sounding dazed.
Hot and cold leapt up inside Corayne, fire and ice, burning fear and frigid shock. She blanched, owl-
eyed, unable to move, rooted to the spot. Never told her about the sword. It was still there, the length of
steel running down her back, tucked beneath her cloak, digging uncomfortably between her shoulder
blades. Forged in a lost realm, twin to her blood, the only other thing in the realm that could stop an
apocalypse.
I never told her about the sword.
Dom gripped her shoulder, strong and desperate enough to hurt. She met his eyes quietly, slowly, and
saw Andry’s fear, her own fear, mirrored in the Elder prince. It was worse than on the hilltop, when the
corpse shadows advanced, their swords raised, their jaws wide and hungry. How can this be worse?
Corayne wanted to scream.
But she wasn’t stupid.
She knew how.
The knights tightened their formation, boxing them in. There was nowhere to turn, nowhere to run.
Corayne heard every clink of their armor, the rasp of their steel, as the Queen basked in the adoration of
her court. Her voice rose, high and clear, echoing down the columns and archways. On the opposite
side of the dais, a pair of silhouettes appeared, one of them tall and lean, the other swathed in a crimson
cloak.
Dom’s grasp broke with a huff of pain, and the Elder stumbled to a knee, a dagger poking from his side.
His blood ran hot and scarlet, blooming from the wound as a knight stood over him, face stern beneath
his helmet. Corayne opened her mouth to scream, only to feel the sharp poke of another dagger at her
ribs, begging to slide between her bones. The knight behind her breathed heavily on her neck, close
enough to cut her throat if he so desired.
“Keep quiet,” he hissed. “Or I’ll run you through.”
She had a knife in her boot, the sword on her back.
Useless in my hands, Corayne thought, her mind screaming.
She could only stand, gasping through clenched teeth, watching Dom bleed as Erida beckoned to the
silhouettes. The first stepped into the light with a roguish smile, a flowing gait, and the proud arrogance
of a conqueror.
“It is with great pleasure that I introduce you to my prince consort, my husband, a son of Old Cor, heir to
the bloodlines of the ancient empire, and father to the new world before us,” Erida said. Her gentle face
was angelic. “Prince Taristan of Old Cor.”
The court rose to applaud their queen’s chosen, the high table already standing and calling their praises.
The roar crashed like a wave, beating Corayne down and down and down, drowning her, pinning her,
dragging her away from all hope of