There's no need for more of us to get hurt." "Let me do it," she whispers to her brother. Their mother could have done this, even their father-but Will? But against a woman like Imodane he had about as much chance as an ant before a lion. Will could hold his own in some fights, sure. If he had, she would have told him how foolish it is. You will be High Queen in name and deed." She knows what he is going to say, and she already hates that he is going to say it. Will gestures to the heralds behind them. Imodane scratches at one of the scars along her jaw. She flexes her fingers, palm to fist, palm to fist, trying to bury her feelings. In honor of your service to the crown you can remain one of our vassals and champions, provided you act accordingly." No more raiding, no more pretending to the throne. "Then how about a duel? If I give you reason to think otherwise, you bend the knee. They may not have been on the field, but they'd fought their own battles within the castle. "Where were you during the Invasion? Certainly not on the field." "You've given me no reason to think otherwise," says Imodane. "Pathetic, is that what you think of me?" Her brother's smile never quite leaves his face. "Watch your-" Rowan starts, but Will raises a hand to cut her off. The only reason I agreed to this little meeting was to see if you were as pathetic as I'd heard. She does, too, her shoulders rising and falling. He offers a friendly smile, though Rowan can see the cracks in his mask. Then we can make arrangements as equals," Will says. She sits with one leg draped over her lap, her eyes narrowed at Will. Legend had it she'd crafted it from the bodies of fallen Phyrexians-and it certainly looked the part, all sharp angles and edges. The knight does not budge from her makeshift throne. I'd like to thank you for welcoming me among you and yours." He inclines his head, offering a hand to the knight. In spite of this, the townsfolk have a fondness for her-and it is this fondness that drove Will to seek her out for parlay. For the past six months she's been demanding tribute from nearby villages in exchange for her services driving off "raiders." But the raiders in question, well, they always seem to wear her colors. The arm she lost in the fight against the Phyrexians has been replaced by enchanted wood-a gift from the fae that begs as many questions as it answers.Īnd there are many questions surrounding this woman. Her handsome face is silvered with scars earned in valiant service. Dents and rends mark her armor, telling the story of her valor as surely as letters on a page. The knight they've come to see provides easy comparison. And, no matter how much she wishes it were otherwise, Rowan cannot blame them. The knights who repelled the invasion-both those gone to seed as mercenaries and those yet clinging to valor-call Will the Boy King. The generations that should have lived in peace now lie in mass graves below upturned heaths and meadows. All of their superstitions, all of their wards, all of their goodness meant nothing in the face of the Phyrexian invasion. Together they had four good children, and those who lived within the kingdom lived happily, knowing they would remain in good hands for generations to come.īut the good king is dead-slain defending his family to the last-and the queen is dead, too. There was a king who dwelled in Eldraine, a good king, who had at his side a good queen.
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