"Crowns topple easily. Thrones crumble like dust. Hearts cease to beat. Thorns draw blood."
In a country torn into two, there should have been no room for mistakes. Especially not at the very core of the royal family. That was what she was. Yes, a...
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"Saints, that boy must have gone mad."
Irina laughed softly, her azure eyes scanning the words written on her correspondence. The mood in the tent had been tense with their proximity to the Fold but the letters she had gotten had made it better.
She had opened Adrianna's letters first. Their daughter had blossomed into a young woman and after a hundred years, she had grown into herself and her power. She had been giving them updates on the goings in the Grand Palace, fully capable of handling matters on her own while her parents traveled to Kribirsk to accompany their Durasts.
It was mostly complaints about the current Lantsovs in power. Truth be told, Irina hated them. They all acted like Oleg too much and if she wasn't as patient as she was, she would've stopped their hearts the moment Vasily began to speak of horses and medals.
Adrianna, on the other hand, had her father's temper. She had already barred the royal family from the Little Palace except for one.
Which brought attention to her other letters. Letters from the seas of Ravka, from a supposed privateer named Sturmhond, otherwise known as Nikolai Lantsov. The only decent one from this family of prats.
The boy had been bragging about his efforts in dismantling the Fjerdan navy, an impressive feat indeed. She would have been proud enough to send him something valuable and expensive if it weren't for the fact that he kept calling her his great great great grandmother.
Despite his obviously flawed sense of humor, Irina had a soft spot for him whenever he would talk about his efforts to improve things for the Ravkan military. After all, he was accomplishing more as a privateer than he did as a prince or a soldier.
Irina would have been perfectly content reading those correspondences when shouts erupted from outside.
Aleksander had been at his desk, writing his own correspondences when the panic ensued. He immediately went to Irina's side, his hand finding hers. Almost by instinct, he pushed her behind him, his hands raised.
Although he knew that she was perfectly capable of handling herself and that she had saved him more than once from assassinations and such, his protective instincts came to life whenever something unknown faced them.
"General, my lady," Ivan said, out of breath as he entered the tent. His eyes were wide as if he could not quite believe what was happening. His red kefta was askew and he looked distressed.
"What is it, Ivan?" Irina asked, stepping forward with her husband as they approached the Heartrender. "What has happened?"
"One of the skiffs has returned from the Fold and they claim that they had been saved by," Ivan trailed off, his words unsure. It was odd to see their stoic Heartrender, who was often unswayed by words, look unsure over the news.
