It was late morning when Giddon, finally alone, caught sight of the bridges that crossed the river to Bitterblue City. It meant he was almost to his bed. He was riding a horse the Council contact had lent him and his thoughts were sluggish; he was trying to push thinking aside for now, with plans to welcome it back after he’d slept. But he couldn’t stop all thoughts, like, for example, the realization of how nice it was to be carried by this wonderful horse after hours of carrying others. Nor could he avoid thoughts of Bitterblue as he directed the horse onto the white-and-blue marble road of Winged Bridge.

Bitterblue had lost one of her advisers on this bridge. She’d tried to stop him, all by herself in a snowstorm, but her adviser had thrown himself over the edge. She’d been only eighteen. That suicide had been one of the legacies of the reign of Bitterblue’s father, King Leck, who’d been a terror, a psychopath. Five years later, things were better for Bitterblue, but she still carried the weight of all the damage her father had done to Monsea. There’d been no one to carry Bitterblue through it all. She’d carried herself, and now she carried her kingdom.

Giddon was also thinking about Winterkeep, a Torlan nation halfway across the world. It had only been a few spare years since the currents of the Winter Sea had thrown a Torlan fishing vessel onto Pikkian shores, and everyone’s understanding of the world had grown.

Giddon’s continent was composed of nine countries—the Seven Nations, the Dells, and Pikkia. Torla was apparently composed of five: Winterkeep, Kamassar, Borza, Tevare, and Mantiper. Winterkeep was the closest Torlan nation to Monsea. This made Winterkeep the natural first destination for Bitterblue’s envoys, traders, and spies. The Seven Nations had Gracelings. The Dells and Pikkia had monsters, vibrantly colored and mesmerizing, who could numb your mind to their attack. But according to the reports, Winterkeep was a land of miracles. Keepish people spoke to telepathic sea creatures and kept telepathic foxes as pets. They flew across the sky in ships attached to balloons. Their government was a democratic republic composed of people who liked one another. They had an academy for young people, run by the same scholars who ran the government, and renowned all across Torla. They had advanced medicines and powerful fuels. They wanted to meet Monsea’s queen. Would she come?