A Whisper of Night

7.1 || ASTNORDEN 💫

Lord Marsdayn Denling was the last of Astna's men to swear to her.

"By the honor of my forebearers and offspring," he said, kneeling, "I vow to defend the Queen and the Faith. I vow to protect the subjects of the kingdom, whether young or old, whether sickly or strong, whether man or woman. I vow to fight with bravery, to judge with honor, to serve with loyalty. Henceforth, I swear the service of my family, my lands, and my men to Queen Astnorden Valchtnalla, the Kingdom of Skeynvald, and the Faith of the Twelve."

A few mutters greeted his words, as they had when Lady Skarra West and Lord Jost Nurtanden had said their vows.

Let them talk, she thought, as she rose from her chair and took the sword from his hands. They'll all run to me once I conquer Skeynvald. The weight of Denling's sword took her by surprise, and she almost stumbled as she touched his right shoulder with the tip, then the left.

"Then rise," she said, repeating the motion. "as Lord Marsdayn Denling of Skeynvald, liege lord of the queen."

Denling stood. Despite his age of fifty-two, he could hardly be called old or ailing - he and his men were as fit and as disciplined as they were the day Skeynvald had fallen.

All his men and land...Denling had a mere thousand infantrymen, but his cavalry was five-hundred strong. Together with the forces of Lady Skarra and Lord Nurtanden, she had four-thousand infantrymen and five-hundred cavalry.

Denling sheathed his sword, bowed, then strode back down the aisle of the Hall, his footsteps echoing through the chamber. The rest of her liege lords and ladies were silent, their faces stony. I will not be finding any more supporters here.

"Thank you for attending today," she said. She turned to the lords and lady who'd sworn their swords to her. "I shall send for you later to discuss battle plans. For now, this gathering is dismissed."

Four of the lords and ladies had remained silent during the entire proceeding. She hadn't been surprised, though; it wasn't as though she were their liege queen. They served Valchtnallan Hall because of her father, but few of them bore any love for her.

Her people practically ran out of the chamber. She watched the Hall empty, her liege men leaving last, before heading out of one of the side doors.

Her head pounded as she trudged up to her room, and she barely managed a courteous nod at her guards before stumbling inside and collapsing onto her bed.

The guards outside her door had been Minister Foerling's idea, and Foerling herself had testified to their loyalty.

I place so much trust in the minister, Astna thought, waving away her handmaids. Too much trust...but what other choice did she have? Word of her treason would soon reach the Lion Queen, and then she'd need all the support she could get.

Three days ago, she'd declared herself queen. She'd ordered her men – although they were, technically, only her fellow lords and ladies – to swear fealty. Almost none of them had, however, and she couldn't blame them.

Astna had yet to make a crown for herself. Her mother's crown was still lost in the cellars of Old Skeynheld, the original capital of her stolen kingdom. It was said that the crown was made of silver and obsidian and amethyst, carved in the shape of hydra heads.

Rasla hissed at her from the windowsill. She was now twice as long, twice as tall, and twice as poisonous as she'd been when she'd hatched.

"How have you been?" Astna asked Rasla, stroking one of her heads absentmindedly. The hydra just looked at her, her eyelids clicking. "When will you be able to talk?" It was known that hydras, once fully grown, would be able to communicate mentally with their Riders.