Page 101 of Fate Breaker

The prince busied himself with his sleeve, rolling it up to the elbow to expose a burn across his forearm. The flesh was half-healed, the scar ugly and mottled.

“From the tower?” she asked, indicating his arm.

Taristan shook his head. “The dragon.”

A dizziness swept over Erida, too quick to blame on her injury or blood loss. She swallowed hard against the sensation, even as her mind spun with the thought of immortal warriors and monstrous dragons.

Fearsome, ferocious, she thought.And invaluable.

Erida spun on her heel, facing the wizard.

“Ronin.”

“Your Majesty?” he drawled up at her. Somehow he also managed to make her title sound disrespectful.

She shrugged it off, undeterred.

“If we are to battle half the Ward, and all the immortals in it, we will need more than the legions and the Ashlanders,” Erida said, her voice going hard as the marble beneath her feet. “Show us the power wehopeyou possess.”

On the divan, Ronin frowned at the insult. He opened his mouth to fire back, but Erida held up her wounded hand, stopping him short.

She held his glare, matching it with her own blue fire.

“Bring us a dragon.”

The wizard’s white face dropped, his resentment disappearing for once. Fear shimmered in his eyes, unfamiliar and strange. But greed wove through it, stronger than any fear the wizard possessed. He nodded, only once, raising his hands in mock prayer. As with all things related to Red Ronin, Erida suspected there was more at play, a magic she could not understand flowing through his veins.

“The dragons are greater beings. To bind one requires greater sacrifice,” Ronin answered. “As do all the gifts of What Waits.”

Sneering, Erida raised her wounded hand.

“Is this not sacrifice?” she snarled.

Ronin’s rat smile sent a shiver down her spine.

“If it can be done, I will do it,” he said. “Your Majesty.”

Behind him, the rose window of the cathedral tower glowed red, the sun rising higher across Ascal. It bathed them all in a circle of scarlet warmth, the chinks of light playing over the three. Queen, rogue, and wizard, standing like game pieces on a board. They felt united together, each one with their own part to play. In spite of her still-bleeding hand, Erida almost smiled.

Then Taristan dropped a knee, stricken, his hands scrabbling for purchase against the marble tile. A groan escaped his gritted teeth, a red flush traveling over his pale face. Around the perimeter of the hall, the Lionguard jumped to attention, sprinting forward to attend their prince.

Erida was quicker, all but sliding down next to him, her good hand braced against his shoulder. She searched his face, terror gripping her with icy fingers.

“What is it?” she demanded, pressing her palm to his fevered cheek.

Taristan could only gasp for air, his gaze fixed on the ground.

Ronin’s shadow fell over them, his smile long gone. He watched for a silent moment, then cursed in a hissing language Erida did not know.

“Another Spindle has been lost,” the wizard said, hollow.

Beneath her hand, Taristan slowed his breathing, his eyes gone all to red. Erida shifted carefully, blocking his face from view of the knights as they closed in.

“He is well,” she said coldly, waving them off. “Back to your posts.”

They obeyed without question, but Erida barely heard them,distracted by the harried beating of her own heart. She felt the fury of What Waits on the other side of the door in her mind, his howls of rage echoing across the realms.

Her hand shifted, so that Taristan’s jaw rested against her palm. It took only a little push to force him to meet her gaze.

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