Page 146 of A Tale of Ice and Ash
Chapter Twenty-Four:
Queen of the Kingdom
All at once, a dozen bodies surrounded them, pulling her out of Cole’s arms and into theirs. She wept into Garnet’s shoulder as the twins pawed at her waist.
“I thought you were dead.”
“We’re hardier than that, pet,” said Onyx, stroking her hair. “As are you, apparently.”
“I told you she was a dwarf at heart,” said Wren, helping the Huntsman to his feet, “maybe she’ll live forever after all.”
Oakley prised her from Garnet’s arms and glanced at the now-healed cut on her cheek. Somehow, detaching herself from Janus had healed her. A strange, whispery energy filled her veins. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” she rushed. “But Cole–”
She glanced back at him, sitting behind her. He hadn’t moved in several minutes.
“I’m fine,” he shrugged.
“His hand’s broken.”
“So, not fine then,” said Oakley, seizing his wrist. “Come on, lad, no heroes here.”
Eirwen climbed to her feet. Bianca lay in a pile at the corner of the room, still moving, still conscious. A few knights crouched gingerly around her, unsure of where to put themselves.
“A sword,” Eirwen looked at the Huntsman, “I need one.”
He handed her his own. She marched over there, flanked by half of her family, and approached her cowering form. The guards stiffened as she raised her sword to Bianca’s throat.
“Do you surrender?”
Bianca’s eyes darted over the ruin and destruction, past the smashed coffin, the throne. They settled on Cole. She lowered her head. “I surrender,” she said, and plucked the crown from her head. She tossed it to the ground.
Eirwen stared at it. She’d never given much thought to the item before, an elaborate thick band of woven silver, the same one her father wore. Her fingers twitched, and she was a little afraid to touch it.
Ivy ran forward and scooped it off the ground. She held it up. Eirwen knelt before her, fighting to keep her knees steady as it dropped onto her head, and the weight of it settled there. She stood back up, sweeping towards the dais.
She stopped before the throne.
“Bianca of Florin, or whatever your true name is, the Crown finds you guilty of treason, and sentences you to life imprisonment. Have you anything to say?”
The former queen looked up at her. “No, Your Majesty.”
“Huntsman, Wren, please escort her to the dungeons. Make sure she is cared for, and any injuries attended to. I want her to live a long life, alone with her thoughts.”
The Huntsman hauled her to her feet. She did not struggle.
Eirwen turned her attention to the guards. “I know the former queen had power over you, and pardon you thus for any actions you took against me during her reign. But I cannot have anyone so easily bent serve under me. You are dismissed from your posts, effective immediately. Is that understood?”
The knights scrambled to their feet, bowing awkwardly, mumbling words of apology as they hobbled and scuffled for the door. A few remained, too injured or too deadto move. Eirwen motioned for others to attend them, and sank exhausted into the throne.
Her family stood before her.
“You did well, pet,” said Onyx. “Clear. Nicely spoken.”
“If you say so…” She looked around at the wreckage, the blood, the bodies. The room was probably the least of her worries. But it was a start.
“Someone locate the servants and have this mess cleared. And… a builder? Actually, this room is probably not structurally sound, we should move elsewhere. And maybe we should eat?”
