One other person joined the small group in the great hall. Mistress Evelina was in attendance. How or why she came to be here was a mystery to the Queen, who remembered ordering Evelina away a fortnight ago. Too late to remove her now. And, Ermintrude was forced to admit, the girl was behaving herself. She was meek and quiet and respectful. She looked often at Marcus but, Ermintrude was glad to see, he paid no attention to her. He had eyes only for Izabelle.

“Your Majesty,” Evelina said with a deep curtsy. “Some wine might give us courage. I will be glad to pour, if you sanction it.”

“Yes, a good idea, Mistress,” said the Queen, distracted, for, at that moment the call came that the dragon army was advancing. Ermintrude hastened back to her place by the window. She could see Edward, standing with his cannons, tall, unafraid, in command.

She had never loved him more than at that moment—a blessed state in which to enter heaven, if death should take her.

Anora, in the body of Lady Izabelle, watched Marcus, sitting weakly in the chair. He had his eyes fixed on her, hating her, knowing what she planned, knowing he was going to die in moments, knowing everyone he loved would be dead. Knowing there was nothing he could do to save them or himself.

He would die, torn apart by the blast. All the humans would die, what small bits were left buried beneath tons of stone that had once been a castle, the rubble and ruin of a nation lying at the bottom of an immense crater. She waited impatiently for Maristara to give the signal.

The illusory dragon army would launch its attack at the castle. The illusion was a mammoth work, created by Maristara, while the real army waited miles away, keeping a safe distance from the site of the blast. The illusory army could not do real damage, but it didn’t need to. No human would remain alive long enough to figure out he’d been duped.

A few more seconds and Anora would make up some excuse to leave the hall. She’d established her escape route. Marcus had told the Lady Izabelle, as something that might interest her, that a passage led from the castle beneath the walls and opened into a pasture some distance away. (Draconas had taken Marcus out of the castle that way many years ago, though Anora did not know that . . . nor would she have cared.) Once outside the walls, she would slough off this frail human body and take on her own strong and powerful dragon form.

She would watch the explosion from the clouds, remaining on hand to make certain nothing and no one escaped annihilation.