"You have duties in the throne room," she continued briskly. "The Duke is complaining about unpaid tax levies in his lands, and the Viscount wishes to discuss labor shortages."
"Sounds thrilling," I said.
"Asharanis," she growled.
"Fine, fine. I will go get dressed."
"See that you do."
Then Petunis turned to Nyara. "Nyara, I look forward to hearing you sing in a few days. My ladies and I have tickets to the theater."
Nyara immediately blushed. Petunis linked arms with her. "Why don't you join me for tea while Asharanis attends to her duties?"
Nyara hesitated.
"The kitchen has prepared Tinaris today."
Tinaris. Tea and sweet wine. Nyara's favorite.
"Well," she said sweetly, "how could I refuse?"
The fucking traitor.
I rolled my eyes. "Enjoy tea time," I said, already turning toward the palace. Then I stalked off toward my chambers to get dressed.
Wards
COLSAR
The wards met him in a surge of pale light the moment his body crossed the final boundary. The force halted him mid-stride and hurled him forward across the frozen ground beyond the barrier. For several seconds Colsar did not move. Cold crept upward through blood-soaked fur while the distant roar of the undead continued behind him, the sound thick with the grinding persistence of bone and teeth as the horde pressed itself uselessly against the glowing boundary he had just crossed.
When he forced his eyes open again, the barrier stood only a short distance away. Its pale surface shimmered faintly against the gray sky while rotting bodies gathered along its outer edge, their ruined hands dragging across the light with dull scraping sounds that carried through the falling snow. None of them crossed. Whatever ancient power guarded the island still held.
Colsar tried to push himself upright. The effort sent pain spreading through him in slow waves. Several bites along his flank had already begun to darken, the flesh swollen and hot despite the winter air. The deeper wound across his abdomen pulled unpleasantly when he shifted, and the blood that hadsoaked his fur during the final stretch of the crossing had begun to stiffen against the cold.
For a time he remained where he had fallen, breathing slowly while the snow drifted down around him.
Sound reached him through the haze soon afterward.
Voices carried across the quiet hum of the wards, at first distant and indistinct and then gradually clearer as figures approached the inner side of the barrier. Armored guards emerged from the mist of falling snow, their pale cloaks moving gently in the wind as they studied the ward line. Their attention lingered on the restless mass of corpses clawing against the outer surface of the barrier before shifting toward the wounded creature lying just inside its protection.
Colsar tried again to rise.
His forelimbs trembled beneath him before giving way, forcing him to brace awkwardly against the frozen ground. The movement drew the guards closer. One of them crouched near the edge of the barrier and examined the injuries along Colsar’s ribs with cautious attention, his expression changing as he took in the depth of the wounds.
“He’s been bitten,” the man said quietly.
Another guard studied the swelling flesh along Colsar’s flank and then glanced back toward the undead pressing against the wards. If the corruption spread, he was as dangerous as anything outside the wards.
Colsar lifted his head despite the dull fog creeping through his thoughts. “The princess,” he said, dragging the words throughhis throat. “I need the princess.” He vaguely realized there may be more than one princess. “Asharin,” he added.
The guards exchanged uncertain glances. One of them shook his head with a quiet exhale, clearly more concerned with the spreading infection than the request itself.
“You’re not speaking to the Queen Heir,” he replied. “You’re barely able to stand.”
Two of them stepped forward anyway, each taking hold of Colsar’s arms and hauling him slowly to his feet. His hind legs struggled to support his weight once they released him, and the effort of remaining upright left him breathing heavily while the distant towers of the island city blurred together beyond the drifting snow.
He had reached it, and that single thought remained clear even as exhaustion pressed at the edges of his awareness.
