The Invasion of the Tearling

Another deep roll of thunder slammed the bridge, jarring the stone beneath Aisa’s feet. She passed soldiers, tucked into crevices in the debris, but there was no time to really see them. They were not important, not in the way the Queen was important. Aisa pushed through, dodging the outthrust points of wood and chair legs. At last she emerged from the shadowy overhang of the eastern end of the barricade to find Mace, Pen, and Elston standing at a flat halt. Aisa drew up beside them and gasped.

At least a hundred feet of the New London Bridge had vanished, leaving a cracked lip of rock, then nothing. Peering over the edge of the precipice, Aisa saw several massive chunks of white stone far below, partially submerged in the rich blue waters of the Caddell. Their edges were ragged, as though a giant had torn the stone off in pieces with his bare hands. There was now an enormous gap in the bridge, stretching from the jagged edge at their feet all the way to the last column of support.

Aisa spotted the Queen, standing on the eastern edge of the precipice. Aisa had good vision, and even from here, she could see that the Queen’s face was bone-white, that she looked ready to faint. The sun was just beginning to rise behind her, a nimbus of light playing around her head, and the Queen seemed very small. Aisa wasn’t a real Queen’s Guard yet, but she thought she could understand, if only dimly, how the other three must feel. She hated seeing the Queen standing across that gulf, unprotected and alone.

“Damn you, Lady!” Pen shouted. Aisa gasped, but the Mace didn’t say anything, so she knew she was supposed to pretend that she had not heard.

“I am damned, Pen!” the Queen shouted back.

Aisa snuck a cautious glance at the Mace, and winced at his expression. For the first time she thought he looked old, old and used up. Only three days ago he had taught her how to take a sword to an attacker’s knees, and applauded when she got it right. How could everything change so quickly?

“I had no options, Lazarus!” the Queen called across the chasm. “I never had any! You know that!”

She splayed her hands, then turned and walked away toward the eastern toll gate, beyond which a wave of black uniforms stood motionless and waiting. The Queen strode into the middle of them, as though into a hive of bees, and was engulfed. The four of them could do nothing but watch silently, and a few minutes later, when the Mort lines reformed, the Queen was gone.





CHAPTER 14


THE RED QUEEN


Fortune favors the bold, history tells us. Therefore, it behooves us to be as bold as possible.

—The Glynn Queen’s Words, AS COMPILED BY FATHER TYLER

EVER SINCE THEY had left the Keep, Kelsea had been fighting Lily off with a stick. She would begin going over her lines, what she would say to the Mort at the far end of the bridge … and then Lily would intrude, her grasping fingers of memory weaving through Kelsea’s thoughts until the two seemed indistinguishable. Distant pops of gunfire. Visions of a burning skyline and the screams of the dying. But despite these things, Kelsea wished she could simply sink back into Lily’s life. It was a troubled time that Lily lived in, troubled and terrible, but her choices were not Kelsea’s. Lily’s life demanded nothing but endurance. Kelsea looked up and saw white sails, riggings … a ship, people standing at the helm. She shook her head, but the vision remained in front of her, blurred slightly, as though overlaid with a veil of the thinnest material. For a moment, Kelsea felt as though she could reach out and tear that veil away, step through the centuries to stand beside Lily. To become Lily.

Could I do that? she wondered, blinking up at the ship, its billowing sails, white shadows in the night. Could I simply cross, and not come back?

For a moment, this idea was so seductive that Kelsea had to battle it, the way she would have battled an opponent with a knife. She looked down at her sapphires, feeling as though she were really seeing them for the first time. For months she had operated under the assumption that her sapphires were dead, but why? The dreams, the steady transformation of her own appearance, the cuts on her body, Lily’s pain, Lily’s life … these things had not come out of a vacuum. Kelsea took her jewels, one in each hand, and held them up to the light. Physically, they were identical, but she sensed great difference between them. If she only had time to sort it out! The sun was rising, but still she hesitated.