Raisa lit the pyre, and the flames spit sparks into the storm-darkened sky. Lightning flamed over Hanalea, and the wolves lifted their muzzles and howled, a sound that raised gooseflesh on Han’s neck and arms.

While the queen burned, Raisa called Amon Byrne forward. He stood poker straight beside her while Raisa delivered a eulogy for Edon Byrne, Captain of the Queen’s Guard.

“I have loved and hated Edon Byrne,” she said. “I have loved him for his clear eye, honest soul, and blunt speech.” She paused. “I have hated him for his clear eye, honest soul, and blunt speech.” She smiled at a smattering of laughter and applause. “Our most valuable servants are those loyal enough to risk telling us the truth—not always what we want to hear, but what we need to hear. Edon Byrne was such a man. In the end, he gave his life for my sake. He will be sorely missed.”

She walked forward and looked down at the bluejackets surrounding the dais. “The Byrnes are people of few words, impatient with long speeches, and so I will honor him with a short one. I commend him to the embrace of the Spirit Mountains, and know he will watch over his queen and all of the Gray Wolf line in death as well as in life.”

Her voice rang out, echoing among the peaks. “Enemies of the Gray Wolf line had best take notice.”

Han looked straight at the Bayars.

Raisa swung around, facing downslope again. “And so, the unbroken line of captains and queens continues. Amon Byrne, please step forward.”

Amon took a step forward, standing at attention, chin up, eyes straight ahead.

“Give me the Sword of Hanalea,” Raisa said, extending her hand.

Byrne drew his sword and extended it to Raisa, hilt-first. She took hold of the heavy sword with both hands and lifted it so it pointed skyward.

Strange, Han thought. Raisa didn’t physically resemble the images he’d seen of Hanalea. The legendary queen had been tall and blond and willowy, with long flowing tresses. This queen was small, with a cap of cropped dark hair, her green eyes brilliant against her honey skin. Yet she looked like a warrior, all in armor with the sword in her hand, facing off against the thousands.

“Ordinarily, this would wait until my coronation,” she said. “Ordinarily, the Lady sword would pass from one captain to another. But these are not ordinary times. Queen Marianna and her captain died within days of each other. It seems important to reforge the link between captain and queen as soon as possible lest my enemies think they see an opportunity in our losses.

“In the same vein, we will schedule my coronation as soon as it can be arranged,” she added, her eyes sweeping over the crowd and the assembly on the dais. “There is too much business before us to delay.”

She looked up at Amon Byrne. “Kneel,” she commanded.