Page 146 of Shadowborne: Reckoning

Without another word, she rose to her feet, trotted to the door, unlocked it and leaned out, murmuring something to someone in the hallway, then closed the door softly. It took her a moment to turn around, and when she did, her face was pale. “What the fuck is happening?”

“Can you get me to the queen?”

She nodded. “We have private physician’s rooms in their wing. I’ve just asked the men to transport you there. They think you’re injured in a way I don’t have the right tools for here. You need to be weak and… but Bren, what the fuck is going on?”

I shake my head. “Get me to her—tell her it’s an emergency, because it is. Tell her… tell her that the only female Furyknight brings news of great tragedy in Fyrehold. And she’s the only one who I can stand to share it with.”

48. Weapon in their Hands

~ BREN ~

It took almost an hour to get to the queen. Every second felt like flames burning on my skin. I wanted to scream. But I had to remain laying in bed, looking pale, while a nurse fed me nourishing soup, and messengers flew back and forth in the halls between Terra and the queen.

By the time the summons finally arrived, I’d been bathed and redressed in clean leathers—though they were made of soft kid, not dragonhide—and would have been pacing my room if there hadn’t been nurses coming in and out of the room at random times.

Finally, I was settled into a chair with wheels, a blanket over my lap. While she tucked me in, Terra discreetly made certain I felt a sheathed blade and cool, glass vial between the folds. Then had the guards roll me to the queen’s chamber.

When the guards at the door announced me, and I saw a bed and lounge in the room beyond and realized I’d been brought to the queen’s bedchamber, I almost fled. But when she bid us Come! the room was empty beyond the queen herself. She sat in a plush chair, a goblet in her hand, a robe pulled tightly around her body, and a very unimpressed look on her face. But she gave the orders for the men to roll me to a place just across the small table from where she sat, then bid them leave.

“Your Majesty, we should stay—”

“Leave us,” she snapped.

Both men darted for the door.

She watched until the door was closed behind them, then she took one sip from her goblet before turning those penetrating, shrewd eyes on me. “This is… unexpected. I thought you were in Fyrehold?”

“Your Majesty—”

“If you believe you can flee your station and call on my mercies merely because I am a woman, you are going to learn a very valuable, and very painful life lesson today,” she said tightly.

With a sigh, I folded the blanket over my arm—keeping the sheath and vial tightly against my body so she wouldn’t see them—and stood up, praying my legs would feel steadier now that I’d had some food.

“Permission to speak frankly, Your Majesty,” I whispered, but with tone.

Then I raised my chin as she arched one brow in a question and took another sip from her drink. “What is it? Why have you returned home without orders, and why have I been taken from my bed and asked to grant you an audience by the one woman in this castle I could never accuse of… drama?”

When I didn’t answer, she sighed. “Permission to speak—as openly and candidly as you wish, Bren,” she said. “But do not believe I won’t—”

“I’m here because we uncovered information that is dire, it affects the entire kingdom, and…” I dropped my gaze from the wall over her head and met her wary eyes head on. “And I believe you are the one who should be trusted with this. But I have to admit… I’m not certain.”

Both her brows rose and she tipped her head. “You are not certain about my loyalty to the kingdom?”

“I am not certain of your… allegiance. Of the core of it.”

“Oh, spit it out, Bren. Whatever it is—”

“Are we—you and I—here for the good of the citizens of Vosgaarde, or to be weapons for our men?”

The queen’s eyes narrowed. “One would hope they are the same thing.”

“One would hope, but one might be disappointed,” I said starkly.

Diaan swirled her cup, then got to her feet and walked around the table to stand at my toes. She was slightly taller than me, though heavier, and in a nightdress and robe that would tangle her legs if we fought.

Her eyes told me that she still believed she’d take me.

“I do not need a man to be a weapon,” she said tightly.