The edge of Morwen’s blade caught her cheek with a shallow, small cut. The sting to her pride hurt worse.
Anais crossed her sword and dagger, catching the sergeant’s blade. She twisted. The woman was forced to let go.
The Queen’s sword flicked. Morwen went still, tilting her head back as she stared down the length of the steel at her throat.
Raising her voice above the storm, Anais demanded, “Do you surrender?”
Morwen shouted back, “Never!”
“Good.”
The Queen pulled back her sword. She faced the silent, expectant soldiers.
The training yard was split into two. To her right were the palace’s troops, soldiers who had trained with her, who were loyal to her. To her left were the rebels. Jerrl stood just outside the circle, arms crossed and face grim. Beside him was Trishve.
The meeting with her general had been cut short by a brawl between two squads that should have been training together. Those ten were still glaring at each other. Morwen's expression was less hostile but not friendly.
The Queen didn't need friends. The crown required respect.
Her sword swept out, pointing at the crowd. “You are no longer rebels, and you will stop existing as a separate unit from my army – or we will all die. Not just me, or the nobles. Not only yourselves, but the men and women you’ve been training with for the last several moons. Your families and your homes. Their families. All of us will be swept away.”
She had their attention. They glanced at each other and their fellows on the other side of the circle. Not all of the rebels hated her soldiers – or her.
She continued, “To the north, Delia assaults our border. You have heard the rumors from the south – let me make them facts. I stole into the Queen of Nadraken’s castle, murdered a duchess and countless soldiers to take back what is mine. Yelena will demand an answer for those deaths. While I was there, I offended a prince of Akerami. Even Shoni’i had a presence at the southern castle. Why were they meeting without Drantar? The answer to that question is why you must train. I believe we can withstand any challenge the world issues – if we work together.”
The wind roared. The soldiers stared at her.
She roared louder. “You are the sword of Drantar! Cut as one, and none can stop you!”
Jerrl and Trishve stomped their feet. A moment later, the ground shook as every soldier in the circle echoed the gesture.
“Anais! For the Queen!”
Amidst the thunderous cheering, she found a pair of hard eyes. The Queen nodded at Morwen.
None can stop you.
Not even me.
Diplomacy won the wars that passion started.
Anais had accepted her mother's ways when dealing with the court. The Escorts were an extension of the Queen. Her father's love, Madeline’s friendship, Darius’ teasing, Laureline's eccentricity – they had all become distant over the years. Formal.
Until she had summoned a dark-eyed courtesan to distract her luxury-loving nobles – and found herself distracted instead.
Not distracted.
Desired.
Castien had not served her out of necessity or practicality. There was no logic to the heat in his eyes, the foolish attempts to save her – her, the Queen! – again and again.
No logic at all. No reason for him to stay.
She swiped rain out of her eyes as she joined Trishve and Jerrl. Behind her was the steady presence of her captain.
Jerrl dipped his head before shouting at the soldiers to resume training.
“The troops always like seeing you, my Queen,” Trishve noted.
