After relaying all he knew of Eisa Volsik to the queen, Jonas had expected her to lose interest in him. But still, the requests came. Perhaps the queen had found an unexpected ally in him—someone to share in her anger and hatred. Sometimes she spoke of her daughter Yrsa, slain by Saga Volsik, and sometimes she asked Jonas about Ilías.
Jonas was surprised to realize that at some point during the week, he’d stopped assessing the guards at each exit of the garrison hall. His longings to escape this place had lessened substantially. It certainly wasn’t due to any improvement in the warband. Volund was still a brute, his morals nonexistent. The war chieftain believed that by culling the weakest from his crew, his warband grew stronger. But the way Jonas saw it, to lead by fear was no way for a headman to build trust among his warriors.
The draugur were hauled into the pits each day by their iron collars, spitting and snarling like wild beasts. But the moment an acolyte carved a strange-looking rune into their foreheads, theirdemeanors grew instantaneously placid—at least until the acolyte gave the order to attack.
Now the Corpse Bringers warband was expected to square off with the vile draugur. Jonas had to wonder where these corpses had come from. They seemed too fresh to have come from the grave. But he’d learned that in this band, it was best not to ask too many questions.
With each passing day, Jonas became more certain that this warband had nothing to do with keeping peace in the realm. Murmurs abounded of a place called Rökksgarde, where the next phase of their training would begin. Yet the lack of firm details raised Jonas’s hackles.
Logically, he knew he should probably resume his attempts to flee this place, yet the queen and her continual summons held his curiosity. Where was this “friendship” going, and what would happen should Jonas see it through?
Tonight, as he entered the queen’s private drawing room, he immediately realized something was different.
“Jonas,” said Signe, lounging in her preferred chair near the hearth.
“Your Highness.” Jonas bowed low, but as he straightened, he blinked at the queen. “You’re not in mourning.”
She was clad in a gown of pure white, with an ivory mantle clasped at her delicate throat. Candlelight caught on the glacial pearls hanging from her ears, and the steel crown upon her brow. Her lips lifted with the hint of a sad smile.
“Today,” sighed the queen, “I forgo my mourning attire to celebrate my sister’s birthday.”
“I did not know you have a sister,” said Jonas, hesitantly approaching.
“How could you?” laughed the queen, and he thought he caught the hint of a slur in her words. “She’s long dead.” Signe gestured for Jonas to take the seat across from her, and he did so carefully. “Today, my darling Eylín would have seen thirty-six winters. Let us raise a cup—” She paused, realizing Jonas had no cup, then waved at a servant.
A cupbearer appeared and filled a goblet for Jonas before vanishing like a whisper.
“Let us raise a cup,” Signe repeated, lifting her jeweled goblet. Reluctantly, Jonas did the same. “To Eylín,” said the queen, “the best of us all. The most selfless. The mostbeautiful.”
There was a sarcastic edge to the queen’s voice that gave Jonas pause, but he quickly murmured in agreement, then sipped from his goblet. The queen’s blue eyes had a glazed look to them, and he wondered how long she’d been drinking by the fire.
“Did you know,” said Signe, “Eylínwas meant to marry Ivar?”
“Oh?”
“ ’Tis true. She was to marry Ivar, andIwas to be slaughtered with the rest of my siblings. The Urkans only need one daughter, you see.” The queen’s brows pulled together as she stared into her goblet. “A shame she had a terrible fall from the castle tower. It was an awful thing, to see her limbs splayed out at such angles.”
Jonas swallowed thickly and let the queen continue.
“Eylín died on what was to be her wedding day. And then it becamemywedding day.”
“Did she—” Jonas shut his mouth before he could voice the question.
“Did she jump?” Signe drew in a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “I suppose if she had, she’d have been cleverer than me. Sometimes I think marriage to Ivar is a punishment worse than death.”
Jonas’s skin prickled as he waited for her to continue. But the queen eyed him, clearly weighing a decision.
“I can trust you, can’t I, Jonas? Yes.” She nodded to herself. “Icantrust you. You’ve shared so much with me.”
The words seemed meant to convince herself, rather than him, and Jonas sat uneasily quiet. The queen took a long drink from her goblet, tongue darting out to catch a drop of wine from the corner of her lips. Signe set the cup aside and leaned toward Jonas. “Eylín didn’t jump,” she whispered conspiratorially. “I pushed her.”
The queen’s drunken confession rocked Jonas to his core. Whywas she telling him this? In some cases, it was a benefit to know secrets about one’s ally. But this was the gods damned queen, and she could have him killed with a snap of her fingers. And shehadjust revealed herself to be a killer.
Signe was gazing at her hands, as though mystified that they might have done it. But something sharpened in her expression. “I suppose I should not have told you that.”
“Your secret is safe with me, Your Highness,” said Jonas, his heartbeat kicking up a notch.
The queen’s nails tapped against the carved arms of her chair as she stared at him. There was a warning in her gaze, a silent knife to his throat. His heart pounded harder, faster. He needed to say something to put her at ease…
