Page 42 of The Sun King's Noon

Richard stiffened. “Estara’s absence may be due to any number of?—”

Vikram raised a hand, and Richard fell silent.

“You are not a foolish man. And because I do not think you a fool, I shall explain.”

The hall’s clamour seemed suddenly too distant, drowned out by the thunder of Richard’s pulse.

“The veil that keeps Gloamvarn in acts too as its shield. You cannot scout, sabotage, or send assassins. Until the veil falls, Galdran is untouchable.” Vikram lifted a brow at Richard. “Moreover, you have hidden an important matter from your statement.”

Richard looked away from his gaze. So Vikram knew already of the omission. How?—

Of course. The damn harpy.

“Yes,” Vikram said softly. “The harpy told me. Galdran will choose the hour at which the veil collapses. You are blind to when the battle will begin. You do not know whether your allieswill have reached your border in time, whether ships may cross, whether provisions shall hold, or whether your enemy will strike in winter, flood, famine, or sickness. The logistics of gathering your allies in time are impossible. And the chance of winning against the creatures of Gloamvarn, if the tales bear a shred of truth, is close to none.” He jutted his chin up. “Are you fool enough to tell me otherwise?”

Richard swallowed hard. Not a word Vikram had uttered was false.

“Help us, Your Majesty!” Malgrin lurched to his feet. “If you, great king, see the odds so clearly, please help us alter them. Naradesh’s armies, its ships, its tacticians—surely such strength might turn the tide.”

Richard gaped at Malgrin. In all his years beneath the man’s sharp tongue and sharper judgement, he had never seen the old fox plead.

And yet, there he bowed, arms trembling, almost prostrated across the table.

Vikram regarded Malgrin with a lazy sigh. “Lord Chancellor, I will not spill Naradeshi blood for a war with a predestined end.”

Seola slammed her palm on the table, rattling the goblets.

“Well, I say otherwise! No man, woman or beast knows where the cave leads until they follow it through! Frostheim has long stood with Ardenia, and we shall not stop now.” She cracked her knuckles. “Let Gloamvarn choke on Frostheim steel. I have not had a worthy fight since the giants took my helmsman last winter, and I amhungry.”

Richard’s shoulders sagged. One. Ardenia held one ally on the battlefield, at least. “Frostheim’s loyalty has never been in doubt, old friend, and nor shall it ever be forgotten.”

She waved it aside. “Send word. My mother will fill the sea with longboats, and I shall stand at the prow of the first.”

“My lady,” Ragnar groaned. “Try, if you please, to sound somewhat reluctant to meet slaughter.”

“Never.”

Richard licked his dry lips, steadying himself. There was more to say.

“There is another complication.” Richard’s temples throbbed. “One that concerns all the Seven Realms, not only Ardenia. Rot is spreading, my friends, from beyond the veil. Already, it has tainted our western borderlands. It sickens the Threads far below our feet. Left unchecked, it will spread through all seven realms.”

Ignoring the looks of fear and surprise dawning on the foreign dignitaries, Richard pressed on. “Rot has blighted the First Tree, the origin of all magic, which resides in Gloamvarn. Now, Rot spreads through the roots of the First Tree—what we call Threads. Only one thing will halt the spread—the hearts of the First Creatures. They must be returned to the First Tree, or else Rot will continue past borders, and people, beasts, crops, rivers—all it touches will warp to terror.”

Orric’s brow furrowed. “Near Gloamvarn’s edge, I have heard recently of foul stories. A deer born with too many eyes that feasted on its herd. Streams that turned brackish overnight.” He patted a horrified-looking Myrafrond’s hand. “I had not guessed it was this.”

Vikram appeared calm. “And these First Creatures?”

Richard summarised the Queen of Nightbourne’s account—of the Tree, the hearts and the known creatures.

“Galdran has a unicorn,” he explained. “We know of an eight-legged siren on an island near Estara. A naga within the seas of Naradesh. A phoenix, I believe, is trapped in Gloamvarn. And two others we are blind yet as to.”

“The naga,” General Lakshmi said briskly. “Naradesh will investigate it. I shall see to it myself.”

Seola glanced at Ragnar. “The Great Squid. The beast that drags ships to the depths and devours fishermen whole. Could it be a First Creature?”

Ragnar hummed. “The sagas do call it a creature older than the first frost-clan. An ancient thing from before the world had shores.” He blew out a noisy exhale. “We will deliberate with the Queen and the Olden Council. If there is a heart to be claimed from the deep, Frostheim will claim it.”

Richard massaged his right temple, willing the pounding to ease. “Thank you. All of you.”