But, if Kestrel’s goal was to ingratiate herself to the queen, and the queen was now speaking of this man—thisking—with a tone of respect, then Kestrel knew she needed to entertain the idea. At least for the sake of this conversation.
Kestrel inched closer, doing her best to muster a wounded but hopeful expression. “Can you tell me about him? King…was it, King Everard?”
At the sound of his name, Queen Signe glowed brighter than the candles surrounding them.
“He was a glorious man. A true king and hero to his people. Aenwyn was very fortunate to wed someone so dutiful to his kingdom, so committed to his cause.”
“And what was his cause?”
“To end the tyranny of dragons, of course.” A subtle flash of ire winked behind Signe’s black eyes. “Did Barnabus not cover this in your lesson earlier?”
Whoops.
Kestrel had to think on her toes, quickly. “We didn’t quite make it to King Everard’s plight yet. I had a lot of questionsabout the late King of Irongate. I felt bad that he died and I just…I wanted to know more about him.”
Queen Signe flicked her wrist. “I encourage you not to waste another second of guilt or grief over that man.”
Kestrel waited for her to say more, longing to know how she could possibly speak so chillingly about the man she had been betrothed to and supposedly waiting for all these years. But Queen Signe didn’t say another word about him, and Kestrel didn’t want that to be the end of the conversation.
“And now King Everard is cursed?”
“Unfortunately, yes.”
“Is he locked away in a fortress somewhere as well?”
Queen Signe seemed shocked by the question, as if she couldn’t believe Kestrel could ask something so obvious. But then she seemed to remember, and resumed her elegantly cold expression.
“No, King Everard could not be contained like King Ulfaskr could. You see, the curse turned your father into a giant serpent. Right where he stood, his body burst with scales as large as doors and claws as tall as houses. He erupted into a gargantuan monster, shattering the Caeloran castle and rampaging all across the southern region of the kingdom. Not many were left alive in his wake. And then when he was done, he took to the sea, where he now guards his lands from the shallow depths.
“Which is why I am so elated to have you here, my dear niece. For years, I hoped your mother might still be alive to lift this curse. I’ve searched for her, all over the lands, even in portions of the realm that we are not meant to travel. But I’ve found no sign of her, and truthfully, I had given up hope. But you have rekindled it.”
If Queen Signe’s words had been meant to bolster Kestrel, they had the opposite effect. She never felt smaller, moreincapable than when anyone started talking about how she was meant to save the realm from her mother’s dark magic.
“And you really think I could end the curse?”
At the same time, something foolishly giddy flipped inside Kestrel’s chest at the thought. In all her reading, she always admired the heroes but had never once allowed herself to believe that she could be one of them.
Shewantedit to be true.
But she was a nobody who’d been locked away all her life and now was experiencing everything like a newborn doe.
Queen Signe stroked Kestrel’s cheek with the back of her icy fingers.
“I believe you possess the magic to undo the damage your mother wrought. Which is why—” pinching Kestrel’s chin, she adjusted her head so that she was looking down upon the arsenal of weapons again— “I would like you to choose.”
Kestrel swallowed hard. “Choose?”
“Yes. Choose.” The queen merely folded her hands, waiting.
Sensing she wouldn’t get a further explanation on why she would need a weapon if they were here to practice magic, Kestrel stared down at the options on the altar. How could she choose? She didn’t even know what they would be using the blade for, so how could she decide whether she would want something small and easy to conceal, or something with a longer reach, or perhaps something throwable.
Not to mention, she’d hadnotraining with a blade—unless her trying to reenact scenes from her favorite books counted as training. She didn’t think it did. If the queen expected her to be able to wield this weapon with any sort of expertise, she would be sorely?—
Then Kestrel’s eyes snagged on something that was more artwork than weapon.
It was a curved dagger, but it wasn’t the blade that caughther attention. It was the decorative hilt. It gleamed with gold gilding and green lacquer. It seemed like the kind of blade that should be kept on display, not used in battle or in whatever magic ritual they were about to perform.
But it was the end of the hilt that cemented her choice.
