Page 121 of Blade Breaker (Realm Breaker 2)

Her jaw tightened, holding back a sudden string of curses.

“Send word to the garrison at Gidastern, with all speed,” Erida commanded. Her gaze pierced through Thornwall. “A rider, a boat, whatever you think is quickest.”Most likely both,she knew, thinking of the northern road. “Dispatch men from Ascal as well. I want Corayne breathing before me or I want her head. Nothing less.”

Thornwall bobbed his head in acquiescence, but lingered, still uneasy.

It was not like him to hesitate, especially when ordered by the Queen herself.

Erida eyed him, feeling his agitation creep into her own body. Dread rose in her throat.

“What else, my lord?” Her voice dropped. “Konegin?”

“You’ll see,” Thornwall answered, gesturing for Erida and Taristan to follow.

They swept toward the great hall in a wave of silk and armor, the commander and his men barely a step behind Erida. She passed through pink marble archways, beneath gilded ceilings painted with pastoral scenes of meadows and farmland, bucolic coasts and green vineyards. Burgundy banners and draping still hung from the gallery above, though the flags throughout the city had been replaced by the Gallish Lion. The cold air seemed to flee before them, burned away by Taristan’s presence. Erida even dropped her furs a few inches.

When they entered the throne room, the raised seat cut an impressive silhouette against the wall of windows, backlit by the oddly colored sky. The chamber itself was all but empty. It seemed smaller without a crowd of courtiers. Erida shuddered as they walked beneath a tapestry of silver stallions, the last testament of the Madrentine kings.

No, not the last, she realized, her eyes falling on the dozen people gathered before the throne. Most were Gallish soldiers in green tunics, an armed escort fresh from the road. They still smelled of horse. A girl trembled in their midst, her blond braid reaching the small of her back.

Erida sat the throne, schooling her face into cool disinterest, even as a thousand things swirled through her mind. The conquest. Corayne. Konegin.

And now the young girl in front of her, fifteen years old, a princess in name only, the last living heir of Madrence.

Marguerite Levard visibly quivered but did not kneel, herhands clasped behind her back. She was dressed as a commoner, in a plain cloak and rough-spun wool, but there was no hiding her royal bearing. She was her brother’s miniature, golden-haired and square-jawed, with skin tanned by the southern coast. Her blue eyes fixed on the pearl and marble beneath her feet. Erida weighed the girl’s manner. Was it born of fear or disrespect?

She thought of herself at the same age. Just as small, just as frightened.But I stood tall, she thought, her lips pursing together.I looked my enemies in the eye.

“Marguerite of Madrence,” the Queen said, surveying the young girl. The deposed princess flinched at the sound of her own name. “Where was she found? The convent as her father said?”

At her side, Thornwall bent to answer. “No, Your Majesty,” he said in a halting manner. “My men found her on the road, riding for the Siscarian border. She had a detachment of knights with her, as well as these traitors.”

He gestured to the two Madrentine noblemen flanking Marguerite. Both were white as fallen snow. Like the princess, they wore simple traveling clothes, and they quivered with fear. Erida recognized them easily, even without their finery. They swore their allegiance to her only a week ago, offering oaths of loyalty and empty smiles.

Erida bit her tongue, holding back a curse.I’ve been queen of this kingdom for seven days and already they try to overthrow me.

She did not address the two lords, barely looking at them at all. They did not deserve her disgust or her anger, only swift punishment. Taristan glared from his seat, his eyes burning holes through both of them.

“I see,” she forced out. “And what did you seek in Siscaria?”

Marguerite kept her eyes on her feet, a picture of innocence. “Sanctuary, Your Majesty.”

She spoke softly, sounding younger than her years. Erida knew the trick well.

“You could not find that in a convent?” she scoffed.

One of the lords stepped forward, dropping to a knee. He bowed his head, as if that would save him from her justice. “We thought it safest for the princess.”

“I see no princess here,” Erida sneered, her voice acid.

A long bolt of silence shot through the marble hall.

“For Marguerite,” the lord mumbled, but the mistake was already made. “She is like a daughter to us, and no father could bear to see their child locked away, even in comfort.”

Erida’s hand curled on the arm of her throne. “Her own fatherislocked away, and would be glad to have a companion.” She let the full weight of her glare land. “I’ll not hear lies.”

On the floor, the lord continued to snivel. “You are distant cousins, Your Majesty,” he whimpered, begging. “YourMagnificence. Her mother is of the Reccio family, like your own.”

“And?” she said coolly, shrugging.

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