Page 10 of Winter's Fate

The woman reached out and gave her arm a swat. “Small incharacter, I thought. Where was your mind, girl?”

Laena opened her mouth, then shut it as the woman laughed again. “Point is,” she continued, “the queen knew what she was about. She spent her life preparing, took the reins with grace after her mother passed so suddenly, poor creature. You could tell the regent was nothing but a formality. And then all of a sudden she was out. Seems like there’s much more to the story than we know.”

A hard lump of cold energy, roiling at her center, demanded to be set free. Powerful and frightening, a secret that could tear the crown apart and bring so-called allies like Aglye storming in for the attack. The stifling air in that council room, the bead of sweat rolling down her spine as her power had chafed to be set free until she could no longer contain it. Until she’d nearly killed her own advisors over a disagreement.

A fear, so deep and brittle that it had driven her to seek comfort in Ben’s arms, to believe the promises he’d whispered in the night. Katrina’s wide-eyed shock when she’d walked in on them together, and the way she’d stayed silent as Declan commanded Laena to choose. Choose now. Just as Laena had counted on him to do.

The old woman sat back on the bench, twisting her back with a grimace. “More than you and I will ever know, I suppose.”

Laena allowed herself a shaky breath. She might be rusty at controlling a conversation, but she still knew an opening when she heard one. “The regent has things well in hand until Queen Katrina comes of age,” she said. “I’m sure.”

The old woman snorted. “A small man, if there ever was one.Character, my dear. I’ve no need to picture his shriveled old…” She shuddered.

“Are we still talking about personality?” Laena asked.

The old woman winked. “Of course.”

“He’s not even that old,” Laena said, but the protest sounded weak even to her own ears.

The woman just shrugged and closed her eyes, the ghost of a smile lingering on her lips. And Laena couldn’t shake the impression that she knew exactly who she’d been talking to.

CHAPTER 4

Mildly uncomfortable though it was, the stage bumped along without incident until they reached the crossroads that led directly into the city proper. There it stopped, waiting. To the east and down a short rise, the sea sparkled beneath a cerulean sky, the puffed clouds floating like sheep’s wool above the waves.

The sight was familiar enough to squeeze Laena’s heart with longing. Seated by the window for the first time on the journey, she wished she could open it so she might breathe in the salty-sweet tang of the sea. As the delay stretched, she found herself debating the possible outcomes of opening the window, or perhaps even the door. She was desperate for fresh air, the relief of a sea breeze.

Just as she was considering making the move, the old woman opened her eyes and looked around, then rapped her fist on the ceiling of the coach. “What’s the holdup?” she called.

The coachman hopped down from his perch to open the door, letting in a gusty breath of sea air. “Royal procession coming up from the harbor,” he said gruffly. “Road’s closed till they pass.”

The woman rapped on the ceiling again, though the coachman was no longer seated up there. “We could’ve passed three times since we’ve been stopped.”

The coachman glared at her, clearly just as annoyed at the delay. “If you want to convince the King’s Guard to let us pass, be my guest.”

The woman got to her feet and heaved herself out of the coach, sending the whole thing rocking on its dubious springs. “At least let us stretch our legs.”

“Be my guest.” The coachman drew a cigarette out of his pocket and struck a match on the side of the coach. “But I ain’t counting heads. If you’re not inside, I’m leaving you behind.”

The woman snorted a laugh. “There are only two of us, you dolt.”

Laena followed the woman gratefully out of the coach, her back popping as she set her bag at her feet and stretched her arms toward the sky. The landscape of her childhood stretched out before her, tall grasses sloping gently down as if running for the loving arms of the sea, interrupted only by occasional knots of boulders. She knew every one of them intimately; during her youth, they’d been fortresses and pirate ships, lookouts and towers.

And indeed, a royal procession was making its way up from the harbor, where an enormous ship was moored just offshore. It was a flagship, if she wasn’t mistaken, and not an Etran one; no, that ship flew a flag of cornflower blue set with a royal purple seal. Aglyean colors.

“That little sneak,” Laena muttered.

The procession wasn’t flying King Hawk’s banner, which had to mean they’d come to escort Etra’s emissary into Aglye. The countryside with its rocky coastline could be treacherous, and Etra was a small nation. If Silerith really was threatening the realm, they’d need to keep their sparse military here.

But that also meant that Katrina had summoned this delegationbefore she’d come to speak to Laena. It took a good fortnight to travel here from Vunmore, the capital. And though this delegation might not include King Hawk, they would not have sent just any soldiers to escort a royal emissary.

That was the famed King’s Guard, and make no mistake. When Laena squinted toward the head of the procession, it was not her still-silent magic that sent a chill up her spine, but the sight of the domineering leader who rode at the head of the party.

Callum Farrow. The famed Aglyean captain, known for enforcing Aglye’s magic bans with ruthless efficiency. Though Etra enforced similar laws, they were remote enough, small enough, that occurrences were fairly rare.

It was said that Callum Farrow could smell a den of magic from leagues away. It was said he broke down doors with his fists, and the tight fit of his Aglyean blue uniform suggested he had the power to do it. It was said he dragged magic users away from their families, impervious to their repentant pleas.

It was also said that he had murdered magic users out of hand, on more than one occasion.

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