“My father was at the Spindle,” she said, trying to look somber for a man she’d never met. Erida’s face fell a little. “Cortael of Old Cor. He was of Spindleblood, able to open—and close—any Spindle still in existence.”
The Queen looked her over, eyes widening as she took Corayne in. Does she see the Spindle in me, the tremor of something lost and distant? Do I look as different as I feel?
“So it’s your blood too, then,” Erida said finally, steel in her voice. “You can do the same. You can fix this.”
Corayne could only shrug. “That’s the idea.”
The tower room was round, made for pacing. The Queen did so slowly, like a philosopher in a library, searching for answers. A flush rose in her pale cheeks. “Taristan has an entire army, and while you three seem capable enough, I doubt you can face it alone.”
“We cannot, Your Majesty,” Corayne said. She wished she could show her, wished they had more proof than Dom’s scarred face and Andry’s story. “I’ve seen only shadows of it, but the shadows were enough.”
“So the realm depends on me.” Erida raised her chin, standing in profile against the low fire. Corayne thought of kings on a coin, their images worked in copper and gold. “My armies, my soldiers. My blood as much as your own.”
“It does” was all Dom said.
Corayne shot him a withering glare, then dared a step forward, her cloak hanging loose around her shoulders. Up close, she and the Queen were of a similar height. But everything else could not have been more different. She was a pirate’s daughter and Erida a ruling queen.
“If it helps,” Corayne murmured, “one can hardly be expected to marry while fighting a war against hell itself.”
The Queen’s true smile was a small thing, one corner of her mouth turning upward. She loosed a single, knowing laugh. “I wish that were true,” she said sadly, her shoulders drooping in resignation. “But my agreement is made. I’ll need to go through with it, for better or worse.
“I’m sorry for doubting you, Andry, and for not acting sooner,” Erida added, moving to address the squire. He did not gloat as most men did, and remained still when the Queen took his hands in her own. He looked disconcerted by her touch, as if he wanted to pull away. “Before, I could not believe it—I thought lying to the court was the best option—but with you three standing here . . .” She looked over them again and faltered, showing the girl beneath the crown. Frightened, alone, but brave to a fault. “I see the truth of it now.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Andry whispered, slowly removing his hands.
She only nodded and clapped her palms together. At the sound, the door to the chamber flew open, her knights still waiting dutifully in the hall. “Well, let’s get on with it,” she sighed.
They followed her out, a row of strange ducklings behind a stranger duck. Corayne had to stop herself from bouncing as she walked. Though her uncle’s army rose before her, with hell behind him, she felt lighter than ever, hopeful—optimistic, even. The Queen of Galland would help them fight. The largest army in the north was with them, and certainly more would follow. She had Dom to keep her safe, a queen on her side . . . every step away from Lemarta had been a leap into a life she’d never thought possible. Every moment was danger, excitement, freedom. Every morning brought a new horizon.
If only my mother could see me now, she thought.
“So, Spindleblood. A descendant of Old Cor.”
The Queen fell in beside Corayne, the golden knights hemming them in.
She glanced at Erida and felt another burst of relief. “Don’t remind me,” Corayne muttered, drawing another laugh from the Queen.
“We don’t choose what we’re born to, Corayne,” Erida replied. She touched the crown on her brow. “We can only walk the path put in front of us.”
Corayne shook her head. The cold feeling snuck into her fingers again, sharper than before. “I’m not sure why my path had to involve the end of the world.”
To her surprise, the Queen of Galland took her hand kindly, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Erida stared at her intently, as if looking into a deep pool.
“At least we’re walking it together,” she said, dropping her grip. “I believe in you, Corayne. Something about your eyes—I suppose it’s your blood. The legacy you carry.”
Corayne wished she had a mirror. Wished she could see what the Queen saw in her, what Dom saw in her father. Something in the fathomless black.