Interlude

  Danielle

  Danielle Harfallow tore at her nails, the jagged edges already bitten to the quick. A habit her mother had tried for years to belliger out of her. But she couldn’t help it. Whenever she felt tense or nervous, she would worry at her nails, often pulling at them until they bled at the edges.

  And she was certainly tense right now.

  She pressed her hands into the folds of her skirts, forcing herself to stop.

  She stood with the other Rubanian highborn—those fortunate or pragmatic enough to have survived the fighting. The Blightwind King, they whispered, though not within earshot of their conqueror.

  Danielle tried not to look at him but found herself stealing glances despite the discomfort it stirred. He was… handsome. She felt bile rise at the thought. This is the man who killed Arch-Duke Edmund. The man who brought this storm down upon us.

  She could see the familial resemblance to his younger brother—Daegan Tredain—whom she’d met a year before. The brother whose murder had sparked this war.

  King Landryn Tredain stood tall at the head of the hall, his dark hair falling in waves to his shoulders, his skin bronzed as though the sun had personally kissed him. His armour, black and gold, was simple in style, yet imposing all the same. His eyes and the veins along his neck glowed with the unnatural amethyst hue of aeristone.

  Lightning incarnate, the whispers had said. During the fighting in the city, thunder had peeled and split the air at his command, bolts striking wherever his hand pointed. He had led the assaults himself, it was told, his sword flashing crimson as he cut down hundreds of Rubanian soldiers.

  And now here he stood, the demon turned king.

  The hall felt suffocating. The once-proud banners of the Arctic Bear of Edmund’s House of Dal’Regan were gone. Ripped from the walls, replaced by the crimson and black tapestries of Reldon. Along with remaining highborn in the city, the hall was packed in with a host of the most influential people of the city, from wealthy traders to guildmasters, to priests, to alchemists, there were even well known bards and playwrights.

  The highborn that had surrendered had been given some concessions by their new king. Danielle’s father had not surrendered. Not yet. He had returned to Hardhelm a few months beforehand. He’d sent word to Danielle when the Reldoni first landed at Edas. He had not requested. He had commanded her to return to Hardhelm immediately. But she’d ignored the command.

  Danielle clenched her fists tighter. Where are you, Tanlor?

  She had waited. She had stayed in the city, defying her father’s summons to return to Hardhelm. Defying logic. Waiting. Believing Tanlor would come. That he would sweep her away from all of this. Take her to Hardhelm. Take her anywhere.

  But he hadn’t.

  She didn’t have a clue where he was. The last word she’d received from him had been a hastily scrawled letter informing her that he was on an incredibly important—and secret—mission for the Arch-Duke.

  But the Arch-Duke was dead now.

  Rubastre had a new ruler now.

  Danielle listened to Landryn’s speech as he outlined the terms of Rubastre’s surrender.

  “The city’s Ironworks and worker’s quarter shall remain untouched,” the king announced, his Reldoni accent clear and commanding. “This is a war against the highborn of Rubane, not the people. Edmund Dal’Regan has been executed by my own hand for his crimes. For the murder of my brother, Daegan Tredain. But I am not without mercy. I do not wish to see Rubane burn. Those who surrender will find themselves spared and welcomed into the fold of my kingdom and my protection.”

  It had been the noble’s quarter that bore the brunt of the Reldoni assault. Mansions lay in ruins, their walls toppled and their gardens ash. The palace itself had been shattered, its gates broken and its defenders slaughtered.

  Danielle swallowed hard. She was here now because her father had refused to surrender. The Duke of Harfallow had retreated to Hardhelm, their ancestral home. He had commanded her to join him. She hadn’t. She’d delayed until the Reldoni were at the city walls.

  And now she was a hostage.

  “People of Rubastre,” Landryn continued, “I did not come to this city to bring ruin. I did not march upon your lands to shatter homes or tear apart families.”

  Danielle felt her lip curl involuntarily. No? Could’ve fooled me.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  “I came to free you,” Landryn continued, pacing with the ease of a predator who knew all in the room were prey. “To liberate you from the chains of greed, corruption, and neglect that have bound this land for generations.” Danielle realised this speech was not for her or for the other highborn. This was for the commonfolk. Those in the city that had always resented the nobility. Rubane had a long standing list of social classism issues. He was clearly hoping to exploit this to win favour of the common people.

  “Look around you—what has your nobility done for you?” Landryn asked of the assembly. “They hoard wealth while the common people starve. They build their mansions while you labour in their mines. They send your sons and daughters to die for their own petty feuds, their ambitions that care nothing for your lives.”

  Danielle glanced at the commonfolk gathered in the great hall, their faces gaunt and wide-eyed. They hung on every word.

  “I bring not conquest,” Landryn declared, his voice rising. “I bring change. Under my rule, no child will go hungry while their lord feasts on gilded platters. No family will freeze in the winter while their duke’s hearth burns bright. The wealth of Reldon serves its people, not its lords. The Ironworks of Rubane will forge tools and prosperity, not chains of oppression.”

  Danielle’s hands clenched into fists at her sides, her nails digging into her palms. She hated how compelling he sounded.

  He gestured to the banners of red and black now adorning the hall. “These colours do not mark the fall of your nation. They mark its rebirth. Under the banner of Reldon, you will find a place where all men and women are valued, where labour is rewarded, and where the strong do not prey upon the weak. No more forced tithes, no more debts that drown families for generations. The Rubanian people will rise again—stronger and united.”

  There were murmurs from the edges of the crowd, a ripple of something dangerously close to agreement. Danielle’s stomach turned.

  “And to the highborn Houses,” Landryn’s tone hardened, and those unsettlingly purple eyes settled on the cluster of highborn prisoners. “You are given a choice. Surrender to the rule of Reldon… or perish.”

  All that remained of the highborn in Rubastre were people like Danielle. Mostly women and children that hadn’t taken part in the fighting. Many of them had already surrendered.

  Danielle’s father would receive a letter soon, demanding that he surrender too. Or her life would be forfeit. She wondered if her father would. He was a good man, Duke Harfallow. She knew that he loved her dearly. Had never forced her to marry against her wishes, despite his threats that he would.

  But would he kneel before a Reldoni king for her?

  The eastern cities of Rubane; Hardhelm, Undanskill, Easkey, Belthier’s Gulch. All of them still stood strong. But the Reldoni armies would surely move east eventually. Would her father be the first to kneel?

  Would he betray all of their ancestors, dating back to Rubane’s cessation of Reldon after Elyina’s death.

  She would soon find out.

  And she would tear at her nails while she waited.

  What would Tanlor do if he were here?

  But she already knew the answer to that. He would fight. It was what he always did. He would fight until King Landryn’s storm took him.

  “Highlord Rivers has sent word,” the king went on. Highlord Rivers. Not Duke. Would the same courtesy be offered to her father? Duke Harfallow’s soldiers were surely already marching to Rubastre. If pledged fealty to Landryn, would he continue to hold Hardhelm and rule as Highlord under Landryn’s banner? Her father had been a close friend of Arch-Duke Edmund, She couldn’t see her father accepting that. Had been one of his most staunch supporters.

  Landryn had continued while Danielle’s thoughts spiralled. “That an army of rakmen and draega creatures are tearing through Rubane’s northern lands. How long before they come south. Entire villages burned to the ground. Families slaughtered.”

  Danielle felt a cold chill run down her spine. She had not heard this news. The hall had fallen silent. It had been over a decade since the last war with the rakmen. Tanlor had come back from that fighting a hardened man. She’d spent months chipping away at the armour he’d built around himself, coaxing him back to the man she remembered, though the edges of him had never quite softened the same way again.

  “This is what your nobles have wrought,” Landryn pressed on. “They have ignored the problems at your borders. They’ve allowed an army of draega to grow unchecked. And the monsters have come for all of you!”

  Danielle’s lips tightened, but she said nothing. A darkly bitter part of her wanted to laugh. It had been the Reldoni invasion everyone had been so focused on. And yet, here was Reldoni King, turning the tables, painting himself not as a conqueror, but as a saviour.

  And the people were actually falling for it.

  This man—this monster—had just invaded their city. Now he has the audacity to claim he is here to save them?

  “But I will not allow that to happen.” Landryn’s voice rose, his charisma rolling over the room like a tide. “I will not let this land fall to ruin. Under my rule, the Reldoni soulforged will be the shield that protects Rubane from annihilation.”

  But he is not just a shield, Danielle thought bitterly. He holds a sword in the other hand—a sword he will use to kill us if we step out of line.

  “Rubane will not fall. Not while my soulforged stand. Not while I stand for you.”

  Some of the people in the hall cheered then. The Guildmasters of the Ironworks and Mercantile guilds. Even some of the lower nobility houses, hoping to earn favour with early support.

  Danielle felt her throat tighten as she watched him. He was a tyrant. A murderer. A demon in human skin. But his words were so assured, so perfectly delivered, that for a brief and horrifying moment, she found herself believing him.

  She stared at Landryn, hating him, fearing him… and somewhere in the deepest part of her heart, wondering if he might be right.

  She turned her eyes up to the crimson banners.

  And she waited.

  Waited to see if her father would save her. Waited to see if Tanlor would come.

  Waited, as the world shifted around her, tearing itself apart.