The Invasion of the Tearling

“You must not want them very badly.”


“Five years is too long,” the Red Queen repeated, a hint of sullenness in her voice. “Three years.”

“Done.” Kelsea held the jewels out, but kept the chains around her neck. “Take hold of them.”

The Red Queen eyed her warily. “Why?”

“It’s a trick I learned from our mutual friend.” Kelsea smiled at her. “I need to make sure you won’t back out of the deal.”

The Red Queen’s eyes widened, suddenly fearful, and Kelsea saw that she had meant to do exactly that. Ah, she was smart, this woman, clever enough to drive a hard bargain on a promise she meant to break.

“I know you now, Evelyn. Three years, that’s the honest bargain.” Kelsea lifted the sapphires, offering them. “Promise to leave my kingdom alone.”

The Red Queen took the sapphires on her palm, and Kelsea was relieved to see a myriad of conflicting emotions cross her face: lust, anger, anxiety, regret. She knew about Row Finn, then. Perhaps she had even seen his real face.

“Majesty!” Ducarte hissed. “Do not!”

The Red Queen’s face twisted, and a moment later Ducarte was curled in a fetal position, moaning, on the floor. The woman’s eyes were fixed on the sapphires now, and when Kelsea hunted for her pulse, she found it ratcheted sky-high. Lust had overtaken judgment. The Red Queen paused, clearly framing her words before she spoke.

“If you give me both Tear sapphires, freely, of your own will, I swear to remove my army from the Tearling, and to refrain from interfering with the Tearling for the next three years.”

Kelsea smiled, feeling tears spill down her cheeks.

“You leak like a faucet,” the Red Queen snapped. “Give me the jewels.”

Three years, Kelsea thought. They were safe now, all of them, from the farmers in the Almont to Andalie’s children in the Keep, safe in Mace’s good hands, and that knowledge allowed Kelsea to reach up and pull the chains over her head. She expected the necklaces to fight her hand, or inflict some terrible physical punishment when she tried to remove them, but they came off easily, and when the Red Queen snatched them away, Kelsea felt almost nothing … only a small pang for Lily, for the end of Lily’s story that she would never see. But even that loss was drowned under the great gain of this moment. Three years was a lifetime.

The Red Queen put on both necklaces and then turned away, huddling over the sapphires like a miser with his gold. It occurred to Kelsea in that moment that she might escape; Ducarte was still incapacitated, and she could duck out of the tent, perhaps take them all by surprise. But no, the jewels were lost to her now, and without them she was just an ordinary prisoner. She would make it no more than five feet before getting killed, or worse, and anyway, the bridge was broken. Kelsea had done it as a defensive measure, but now she wondered if she hadn’t really been trying to ensure that there was no going back.

The Red Queen turned, and Kelsea braced herself for the triumph on the woman’s face, the vengeance that would surely follow. The Tearling was safe, and she meant to die a queen.

But the Red Queen’s eyes were wide with outrage, her nostrils flaring. Her outstretched fist had closed around the jewels, squeezing so tightly that her knuckles had turned white. Her mouth worked, opening and closing. Her other hand had clenched into a claw, and it reached for Kelsea, clutching madly.

And then, somehow, Kelsea knew.

She began to laugh, wild, hysterical laughter that bounced off the gleaming red walls of the tent. She barely felt the bruising grip of the woman’s hand on her shoulder.

Of course it didn’t hurt when I took them off. Of course not, because—

“They’re mine.”

The Red Queen screamed with fury, a wordless howl that seemed as though it should shred the walls of the tent. Her hand ground into Kelsea’s shoulder so hard that Kelsea thought it might break, but she couldn’t stop laughing.

“They don’t work for you, do they?” She leaned toward the Red Queen until their faces were only inches apart. “You can’t use them. They’re mine.”

The Queen hauled back and slapped Kelsea again, knocking her to the ground. But even this couldn’t stop Kelsea’s laughter; indeed, it seemed to feed it. She thought of the long night past … Lily, William Tear, Pen, Jonathan, Mace … and it suddenly seemed that they were there with her, all of them, even the dead. Kelsea had hoped to emerge victorious, but here was an outcome she had never imagined. The jewels were lost to her; she would never find out how Lily’s story had ended. But neither would anyone else.

Rough hands were on her shoulders, pulling her from the ground. Men dressed in black, like the soldiers outside, but by now Kelsea recognized close guards when she saw them, and she shut her eyes, preparing for death.