“Astore, what is your cause to take up this absolute folly?” Her mouth curled with distaste.
The duke said, loudly for all, “The lady’s crime is treason against her father, for until Midwinter he remains the king of this island; and further treason against myself, her lord and husband.”
“Oh, Col,” Gaela said. The thrill she felt was nothing of terror, only anticipation. “I am Gaela Lear, daughter of kings and empresses, and these men around us belong to me and my island. Not to you—unless you are mine.”
“Restrain her,” Astore said, confident in his authority.
Standing in her stirrups, Gaela called, “Do so yourself, if you would be more a king than me.”
Her husband lost all the remaining pink in his face, lips blanching straight and white as worms. With a sharp jerk, Astore pushed his horse right up to hers.
Gaela stared at his pale eyes and smiled. She swung down off her mount. Though not in full raiment, Gaela had traveled in dark leather armor and a mail skirt with heavy wool trousers. Hanging from the saddle was her grandfather’s own broadsword. The pommel was shaped like a swan, and set with blue topaz in the simple cross guard. She strode the short distance to Astore’s horse and gripped the ankle of his heavy boots. “Arrest me, if you are able.”
He nudged her away and climbed out of his saddle. Because Gaela did not back off, he landed a hand from her, their chests aligned.
“I came here,” Gaela said, “to lead a charge against Connley and take this north for us, husband, but you greet me as if you do not know me, as if you could be anything without me.”
Astore gripped the handle of his sword in its piscine sheath. Softly he said, “You betrayed me, Gaela, years ago in deed, and now in defiance. Our marriage was a lie, and you have proved never to care for Astora or my people. You’ve cared only for your own ambitions. When my men sent word of what you did to the Oak Earl—your own uncle—I knew you’d lost yourself as your father did. I will join with the Kayo to take this island back for Lear. Elia will be a fine—gentle and womanly—queen for us.”
Gaela said nothing: a prescient regret silenced her.
She was going to kill her husband this afternoon.
The thought made her dizzy, but she relished it.
Astore put his hands on her shoulders. “I will keep you very well, or even, if you like, arrange for escort to your mother’s people. But here, near power, you are a danger to yourself and this entire island. And can be no fit wife for me, because of what you’ve done to yourself.”
“You would put me aside in favor of drooling babies?” she murmured. “Choose children of your own line over ambition and a crown? Oh, I misjudged you, Col.”
“Yes, you did. I have ever wanted that crown, and I mean to fight for it, still. But what is the point of a crown without a legacy?”
“Power, together, to make a legacy for every child on this island, Col.” The depth of her disappointment in him surprised her, and that surprise stirred matching anger.
“You lied to me from the beginning. You never wanted me. You have never wanted any man. Though you professed to want a king. What kind of partnership is that, to have worked together based on such a lie?”
Baring her teeth in a mean smile, Gaela said, “I wanted a king—that much was true. But I have always intended to be that king myself, and toward that, on this cursed island, my stars provided a singular path. I have what I needed from you now, you foolish man, and I can finish the rest myself, without the need to share my crown.”
“I loved you,” he snarled, as if it would make a difference to her.
Gaela ended her smile. “I respected you, but no more.”
His face blazed red with his outrage, and he yelled again, “Seize this woman!”
Gaela eyed his retainers. She met their gazes with her own severity. “No one here has the authority to arrest the ascendant queen of Innis Lear, Col Astore, but she can challenge you herself.”
He put his hand again on the pommel of his sword. “I would die before I let you drag me down.”
“Same, husband.” Gaela reached, and the soldier Dig was at her side, putting her sword in her hand.
She did not wait, but swung it instantly, and with all the strength of her body. Astore barely blocked in time, stumbling. Gaela followed through with her shoulder, knocking him aside. He grunted, and before he could react, she drew the knife from her belt and stabbed it expertly between the buckles of steel plate, directly under his arm.
Astore’s mouth gaped open, and he looked down at her hand on the hilt.
Gaela pulled the knife free. Blood gushed through the quilted wool of his gambeson, pouring red and hot. She had learned from him, that very first year, how to always find a mortal stab.
“You misjudged me, too, Col,” Gaela murmured, opening her arm for him to slump against her. She caught him under his opposite shoulder, and carefully lowered Astore to his knees. “You always underestimated my ambition and my commitment. I would do anything for my crown and island, even let you paw at me, let you put your seed in me, thinking that it might ever take root. You’ve looked at me since I was a little girl like I was the thing to bring you what you wanted. But always you were the tool to bring me mine. I married you, and then I became you. Remember that as you die. Your honor is to have made the strongest king Innis Lear has ever seen.”
Breath wheezed from his lips, but Astore couldn’t catch enough air to speak.
“Men of Astore and Lear!” Gaela cried, standing with her dying husband against her hip, the murder weapon brandished and dripping a single long
