The moon had long since peaked when she finally reached the mouth of the River Merra. She heard it long before she saw it: the rush of moving water. Then she came to the tree line, thin saplings giving way to older trees, roots sunk into the dark, rich soil, the undergrowth much more alive than the forests to the north. Instead of drying pine needles and brambles, there was a carpet of newborn grass and leafy little plants. The trees were green with moss all the way up to the first branches. Crier ran her fingers along the trunks, wet and spongy beneath her touch. Get to the river.

There—a gap in the trees. An odd shimmer. Moonlight on water.

Crier’s feet weighed a hundred pounds each. She was reminded of a story—something about a prince who traveled a hundred leagues on foot in shoes made of iron and lead. It was the only way he could save his lover, the prince of a neighboring kingdom. A witch’s bargain. Something like that. The trees parted and Crier staggered out onto the riverbank, a sharp drop-off, water tumbling below. So close. Her body didn’t require water to survive, but gods, she wanted to drink.

Half delirious, she didn’t hear them coming until it was too late.

Until she was staring down the shaft of an arrow pointed directly at her forehead.

Bandits.

BEWARE THE MAD QUEEN OF VARN

The Mad Queen, the Bloodsucker, Junn the Monstrous. Keep your head down, traveler. The Mad Queen eats men whole; the Mad Queen will drink your blood like wine. Keep your face hidden, traveler. The Mad Queen rules from a throne of human skulls; the Mad Queen sleeps in robes of human skin. Keep eyes on your children, traveler. The Mad Queen will too.

BEWARE THE MONSTER OF THE MINES

Village Taker, King Killer. The Mad Queen took the throne with her bare hands; she sank her teeth into it; she will do the same to you. Be wary, traveler. The Mad Queen will grind up your bones and drink them like heartstone tea. Dark magick, blood magick. Be wary, traveler. Many wish to look upon her beauty. The Mad Queen is beautiful like a she-demon, a shimmering omen. If you see her, do not run. Pray.

BEWARE THE BONE-EATING QUEEN!

—PROPAGANDA PAMPHLETS DISTRIBUTED THROUGHOUT RABU AND VARN BY UNKNOWN SOURCE

11

The next day, the handmaidens didn’t show up to Ayla’s quarters. Neither did Lady Dear. Ayla waited until the sun was middling in the morning sky before accepting that she would have to forage for her own breakfast. Stomach rumbling, she opened the bedroom door—only to come face-to-face with Queen Junn.

“Oh,” Ayla said, trying not to look as startled as she felt.

“Good morning to you too, Ayla,” said Junn. “May I come in?”

It was a funny question from a queen. “Sure,” Ayla said magnanimously, stepping aside, and the queen swept into her room, bringing with her the faint scent of fruit and flowers, wet earth. Maybe she’d come straight from the aviary. Ayla thought Junn would sit at the little table where Ayla usually ate breakfast, but she walked right past the table to sit on the edge of the bed. For some reason, it made her look young. She wasn’t much older than Ayla, but she always acted like she’d been ruling for decades instead of two years.