Infinity

reach them. We were lucky we escaped when we did today, Your Majesty.”

“No.” I shook my head as an all-consuming dread filled my stomach. “No, they didn’t…”

“The village of Sorcastia is gone, too,” Rhys said quietly. “I’m sorry.”

Salvachio, the stupid farmer who’d been worried about the field of wheat that Dravak had accidentally burned last year, was dead. He’d been sure that someone would take over the village. He swore that the dragons would try to conquer them. He’d told me once that the dragons wanted to burn the world around them.

Now, it turned out he’d been right. Not about the dragons, of course, the dragons were on our side, but what was coming for our world. Someone was trying to burn it down around us.

“Why is the Empress Bavasama doing this?” Arianna asked. “Why, when we’ve signed a peace treaty, is she attacking us? Is it because you have control of the Relics?”

“No.” I shook my head. “This has nothing to do with the Great Relics. Not directly. This is about the throne. I have it, and she wants it. The Relics go along with that, but I don’t think that’s her primary goal.”

“So what do we do?” another man asked from the back of the throne room. “Your Majesty, what are we going to do? They’ll come here next. They’ll come here, and we’ll have nowhere to run. They’ll burn us out and —”

“Where are they? Bavasama’s troops?” I asked, my voice sharp as I tried to hide my own worry from the nobles staring back at me. “Where are they now?”

“Back over the border,” Rhys said. “They burned everything they could on our side and then retreated over the White Mountains, setting fire to the forests there to prevent us from following.” Rhys kept his eyes on mine, and I could see that his entire face was tense.

“So this was what?” I asked, staring at the sea of scared faces in front of me. “Bavasama’s version of the pregame show? She just wanted to show us that she could do this and we couldn’t stop her?”

“She wanted revenge,” Winston snapped. “This isn’t about magic artifacts or thrones or anything else. You humiliated her, and this is how she got revenge. She attacked our borders to punish you.”

“Yeah,” I said with a snort of derision, “well, I can’t wait to see what she does when I march my army into her country and do the same thing to her that she did to my mother.”

“What?” John asked, his eyes wide. “What do you mean what she did to your mother?”

“Bavasama.” I swallowed. “She took my mother hostage and then disguised herself to look like my mom so she could sit on the Rose Throne. Then, when she thought she might be caught, she used the Great Relics to force my mother through the Mirror so the Fate Maker could rule Nerissette as regent.”

“By the stars.” John’s face paled. “How long? How long did she pretend to be your mother?”

“I don’t know,” I said, then shook my head. “But what I do know is that after these attacks, her days on the throne of Bathune are numbered.”

“Your aunt must have been willing to take the risk,” John said. “She tried this in the hopes that our behavior at the peace treaty signing was all an act, that in reality you were sick of war but just didn’t want to appear weak.”

If that’s what Bavasama thought, then she was right. I was sick of war. I was sick of blood and battles and the smell of the dead burning. I was really sick of that stupid, hollow feeling in my chest that came from watching my friends suffer and die. I was sick of feeling weak every time I was forced to make a decision that led to someone else dying.

What I was really sick of most of all, though? I was really, really freaking sick of people thinking that we were just going to lie down and die so that life could be more convenient for them. That was going to stop today. Right now, in fact. I was sick of being walked on.

“So what do we do?” a white-skinned nymph on the right called out. “What will the allies of the Aurae do to stop these attacks?”

“Aquella?” I searched for her in the crowd, and the blue-skinned naiad stepped forward from the cluster of nymphs near the windows on the left side of the room.

“Yes, Your Majesty?”

“Can you stop the fires? If we send you out with dragon scouts, can you stop the fire in the White Mountains and make it safe for our army to travel?”

“We can bring storms that will make the Pleiades tremble,” Aquella said, her pale blue eyes fixed on mine. “Darinda and her Order will feel the rains we bring here even inside the Summer Lands.”

The Summer Lands. The nymph version of Heaven. The place where the souls of those we lost were said to wait for us to come and find them again at the end of our own time in this realm.

“How long until it’s safe for the army to move through the forests and into the White Mountains?”

“Give us three days,” Aquella said cautiously. I could see the fear in her eyes at sending her people out to face a fire that had already killed all but one of the dryads.

“When will the army be ready, Rhys? Not just here, but ready to march. How long?” I asked.

He looked thoughtful for a moment. “Five days, a week at most. In one week we can make you an army the likes of which this world has never seen, an army that would make our own world tremble.”

“Do you think we can spare a week?” I asked. I could hear everyone in the room draw in a breath, waiting for his answer. Did we have seven more days before war came to Nerissette?

“If we can find a way to stall Bavasama from taking more action, it may give us enough time.” Winston cleared his throat. “Send her a message. Ask for terms. Apologize for how you treated her.”

“No. I’m not apologizing to that woman. She killed Darinda.” I turned and narrowed my eyes at him, gripping the handles of my chair. He had to be insane if he thought I was just going to send someone to her and try to negotiate more peace after what she’d done.

“We lie,” Winston said. “We send a fake ambassador to Bavasama and let her think we’re trying to prevent a war while, in reality, we’re preparing to march an army over her border.”

“If we send an ambassador, there’s a very good chance she would kill said ambassador. In fact, I’d expect her to. I won’t throw away someone’s life that way.”

“I’ll do it,” Gunter of the Veldt said from the back of the hall. Everyone fell silent, turning to look at the next Steward of the Veldt, his blond hair cropped short and the left sleeve of his jacket pinned up where his hand had once been. “I’ll go.”

His mother, Arianna—Stewardess of the Veldt—reached for his arm, tears in her eyes. “You can’t. You’re still wounded. If something—“

He pulled away from her and lifted his chin higher. “I can do this, Your Majesty.”

“No.” I shook my head. He’d already lost enough in battle last time. I couldn’t ask him to risk his life in a fake-out plan.

“Your Majesty.” He came forward, his chin held high, and kept his eyes fixed on me.

“I said, no. She’ll kill you.”

“My life is a worthy sacrifice if it keeps you safe for even a minute longer. I can no longer fight, but I can do this. I can do my part to keep our home safe—to protect my queen, my lands, my people.”

“Gunter.” I swallowed.

“Let me act as your messenger, my queen,” he said quietly. “Let me do my part and buy you the time you need to raise an army.”

“Your Majesty—” John started.

“Fine.” I couldn’t meet Gunter’s eyes. “Stall her as much as you can while still staying safe. We’ll bring the army to you.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Gunter said and then stepped back.

“Meanwhile, the rest of you, start preparing your troops. Plus, anyone who needs to evacuate the Borderlands, tell them to go to the keeps of their nearest noble. I’ll expect all of your households to make the refugees welcome.”

“Your Majesty, the cost,” Arianna said, her eyes wide.

“Keep track of it. I’ll deduct it from your taxes. Now, we’re done talking about expenses and negotiations and fake ambassadors. From here on out the only thing I want to hear is how we’re going to go about conquering Bathune. Everything else is on hold until that’s over.”

“Your Majesty,” a high-pitched voice called out, and I watched as an older woman in blue silk hobbled