The Warrior's Curse (The Traitor's Game 3)

Why had I done that? Searching within myself again for the motive, I realized that Joth had not only drained my strength, he had pulled most of my magic away from me, which surely included the corruption. It would have left me vulnerable to emotions that the corruption suppressed, of pity, mercy, justice—qualities that were fine for commoners, but which made a queen vulnerable.

Our conversation hadn’t ended there, I was sure of that. I believed we’d talked about Simon, and it seemed that she had let it slip how much she loved him. Or maybe I had said those words. I hoped it wasn’t me.

I especially hoped it wasn’t she who said them.

Minutes later, an Ironheart rounded the corner. He was roughly Darrow’s age, with a similar build, and a long beard and rags for clothes. He went to one knee for me. “My queen. My name is Lore and I am at your service.”

“You are the only one to come?”

He rose up. “There is one more, not far behind me.”

I rolled my eyes. A glorious punishment was coming for all Ironhearts who had ignored my orders, but I wanted plenty of magic saved up for that event. For now, I needed that magic elsewhere.

Lore stood, accidentally bumping a foot against Harlyn’s leg. She sat up with a start, alarmed to see we were not alone. She reached for her sword, then saw it at my waist, along with every other weapon that had been hers not ten minutes ago. Sensing how vulnerable she was, Harlyn glanced down, hoping to be ignored. I was happy to do that.

Lore asked, “What are your orders, my queen?”

“Can you get me out of this tunnel?”

“If you’re going after Joth, I want to come too.” Harlyn’s eye was fixed on her disk bow, slung over my shoulder. I hoped she didn’t attempt to take it, because that would force me to defend myself.

I shook my head. “You will not come. Other than the kind gift of your weapons, you are of no use to me any longer.” She had started to her feet, but with a wave of my hand, she fell to the ground and there she would stay. “We are not friends, Harlyn, and anything I might have said last night no longer matters.”

“Anything you might have said?” Harlyn’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, you don’t remember what you said, do you? Well, believe me when I say that it matters a great deal.”

&nbs

p; I began searching my recovered powers for a way to make her regret her insolence, but was startled by the approach of the second Ironheart.

“My lady, I came as fast as I could.”

“Address me as your queen,” I demanded, then stopped once I saw Rosaleen standing before me. Simon’s sister.

Now behind me, Harlyn breathed out her name. Rosaleen glanced at Harlyn briefly before her eyes returned to me.

“My queen,” Rosaleen said obediently.

“Do you know who I am?” I asked.

“Kestra Dallisor, Queen of Antora.”

“What else?”

Rosaleen’s eyes misted. “You were the Infidante. I used to fight for you.”

“Do you still?”

With a brief glance at Lore and then at Harlyn, she said, “I am an Ironheart, my queen. I must fight for you.”

Her answer told me more than I wished it did. Rosaleen was not here by choice, but at least she was here. If this was my only way to get an army, it’s where I would begin.

I said to Lore, “Lead me out of here.”

He went first and I followed, with Rosaleen behind us. Recalling the way she had taken aim at me outside All Spirits Forest, I eventually told her to walk at my side. Even if she was calling me her queen, I felt safer being able to see her.

“Why did the two of you come for me?” I asked.

Lore glanced back long enough to say, “How should we answer such a question, my queen? With what you want to hear, or the truth?”