Page 94 of A War of Crowns

His eyes flew wide.

“I’ll show you what to do,” Skatia promised as she gently released her hand.

When her new sister took a single step back to leave her alone with her quarry, Talia didn’t hesitate for a moment. She plunged her blade into the man’s waiting heart and claimed his soul for her own.

Two Weeks Later

“By decree of His Majesty King Hamon de la Croix, Tenth of His Name, from this day forward, prayer to the minor goddess known as The Lady Below is now legalized within Elmoria, with the following exception: anyone caught engaging in witchcraft as a part of that prayer or caught in possession of the weapon known as a ‘witchblade’ will be subject to immediate execution.”

-an Elmorian court herald

in the year 2944 P.S.

Chapter twenty-six

Seraphina

Never again, Seraphina promised herself for the second and last time as she made her way down the gangplank of theSilver Lady.

Her stomach churned with each sway of the ship within Goldreach’s harbor. Behind her, Duke Percival claimed a firm grip on her elbow and held her steady as they descended together. Before her marched three of her Queensguard. About her throat draped Alyx’s familiar weight.

She stared at the back of Sir Arkwright’s head while she walked, focusing on the way a few wisps of his silver-blond hair curled from beneath his helm rather than on the bile burning in the back of her throat.

It wasn’t until her feet touched steady earth that Seraphina felt confident she could breathe in the ocean’s stench without retching all over herself.

Home.

At last, she was home.

Goldreach stirred all around her, alive with all the familiar sounds and smells of Elmoria. And yet, still, there was an allure of newness.

She turned her head this way and that, drinking it all in, and her curiosity soon filled the space left by the glorious absence of her seasickness.

In all her twenty-nine years, Seraphina had spent little time down by the docks. She had spent little time within Goldreach proper, in fact, aside from her coronation, which had taken place at the cathedral within the heart of the city.

As she stood there, basking in the promise of summer careening off the bay, she searched the faces of all those who passed. Curiously watching, but apart.

Like an outsider peeking in through the windowpanes.

“Let me escort Her Grace off the ship and then I’ll be ready, Your Majesty,” Duke Percival murmured at her ear.

Seraphina dipped her head, acknowledging his words, though the majority of her attention remained on the busy dockside.

There were several other ships that had moored at almost the same time as theSilver Lady, and she watched with a growing fascination as their passengers and cargo spilled forth. Two were clearly merchant vessels from Lothmeer, given the russet cast of thecrews’ complexions, and the heavy cadence of their speech lilting over the noise dominating the dock.

The third, though, lay silent and still—a great mystery, given that no passengers had yet disembarked and the ship flew no distinguishing flag. All the same, there was something…oddly familiar about the small vessel.

Narrowing her eyes, she searched that ship in particular for any indication at all from whence it had come. Seraphina entertained that nagging sense of familiarity for a few moments more before a sudden cry of, “Your Majesty!” drew her attention away.

Her heart melted the moment she saw Olivia limping toward her through the crowd.

“Olivia!” Seraphina called out as her friend wrapped her in a tight embrace.

Olivia smelled just as she always did—like whatever latest herbal concoction she was working on down in that workshop of hers, mingled with the scents of parchment and ink.

She smelled like home.

“I missed you,” Seraphina whispered into her friend’s hair.

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