But she did not cry. She would not cry. Last night had been her night for tears and pity.
Today was a day only for action.
Drawing in a deep breath, she forced her feet to move, to turn her back on the spires of her home and face the mountains rising in the distance.Not forever, she promised herself—a promise that rang false within her own mind.
She had no army. No Crow. No allies. No plan. Not even a vision to haunt her. Nor an Oracle or Shepherd to lend her hope.
But still her heart beat out a defiant rhythm.Not forever. This could not be it. This could not be the end of House de la Croix. Of Elmoria.
The Lord willing, she would be back, too.
Chapter fifty-eight
Tiberius
His headache was a blinding, white-hot thing that lived just behind his left eye—a parting gift, he supposed. A token of affection from his queen to remember her by.
That, and the humiliation of waking up face down in the grit of a smuggler’s cove, stripped of his coin purse by that charlatan of a ship’s captain, left him with nothing but the taste of sand and failure in his mouth.
He should have expected nothing less from Seraphina de la Croix. A poison ring spirited away on her person?Well done, Sera. He was more impressed than irritated, really.
But the realization that his queen was still out there somewhere, waiting to be captured, killed, or married off to the next lordwishing to play king rather than safely on a ship, made his headache pound all the more.
His thumb worried at the wedding band the smugglers had mercifully left him as he walked, making for the throne room. Of all his possessions, all his great wealth, that simple little ring was the only thing that promised him even a semblance of safety in this pit of vipers.
Because it was the only thing that tied him to this new regime—to his father-in-law, the Duke of Coreto.
The doors to the throne room lay open, as if straining to accommodate the swell of people fighting for a place within. Tension blanketed the room, making the air brittle, as if a mere cough might shatter it completely.
Those courtiers and soldiers already loyal to Coreto, eager to be awarded for the parts they played in the coup yesterday, composed the majority of the crowd, he saw. But interspersed amongst them were those who had been too slow, too stupid, or too unlucky to flee Goldreach before the gates slammed shut.
The latter stood trembling—like sheep standing alongside wolves, fearful of the unknown. Tiberius didn’t tremble, though. He didn’t have the energy for it. The residual lethargy from the sleep poison Seraphina had so kindly administered still clung to his limbs, making every step feel as though he were wading through a thick stew.
But he walked all the same. He walked with all the pride of a Beaumont, chin high, and pressed through the crowd until hefound a place at the very front of the room, with an excellent view of Seraphina’s throne.
It was an obscenity.
There the Duke of Coreto sat, looking entirely too comfortable. Gone was his usual drab attire, replaced by an ensemble that looked as if he had raided the late Reynard de la Croix’s belongings: a doublet of midnight blue embroidered with silver thread and a crown of iron and sapphires resting heavily on his brow.
Behind the throne stood dour Lord Bennett, pretending to be a prince—a miserable, sickly-looking prince.
“My people,” Coreto boomed, his voice echoing off the vaulted ceiling. “The darkness of the de la Croix woman’s reign has finally come to an end. A new dawn now breaks over Elmoria.”
Darkness?The only dark blot on his queen’s reign had been the moment she married that beast from Drakmor—theCrow. But that was arguable, really, and he could forgive her that. He understood why she had done it.
Politics.
“I do not take this burden lightly,” Coreto continued, spreading his hands wide. Though Tiberius supposed he would not be calledCoretonow—not now that he was king rather than a mere duke.
“And in honor of the history of this great land,” Coreto continued, “I cast aside my name of Roul Threston. From this day forth, Elmoria shall return to its golden era of conquest and strength, led by another Hamon, in celebration of all the great Hamons who came before.”
A court herald rapped his stave on the floor, wood striking marble. “All hail King Hamon!” the man cried. “Eleventh of his name!”
A ripple of shock tore through the gathered nobles. Even Tiberius could hardly believe his ears.Hamon. A family name of House de la Croix. The name of Seraphina’s dead brother, whowouldhave been Hamon XI had he lived to see his coronation.
It was a theft. A mummer’s farce.
Coreto had cast aside his plan to mingle his bloodline with Seraphina’s through marriage to his son, so now he was stealing the names of dead men instead? Like a scavenger picking at a carcass.
