[ONGOING: New Chapters Every Sunday]
Kingsblade. Rise of the Raven Queen.
Her kingdom is in ashes.
She's supposed to save it, but there's one problem.
She doesn't remember she's the queen.
She doesn't remember anything at all.
With war looming on...
Ups! Tento obrázek porušuje naše pokyny k obsahu. Před publikováním ho, prosím, buď odstraň, nebo nahraď jiným.
Skuff. Skuff. Skuff.
The sound of their marching was the only thing that tied Leyrl to the world beneath her feet. The Fallen Ones who flanked her on every side moved with surprising speed deeper into the city. She fell into step with them.
Skuff. Skuff. Skuff.
Easy enough.
Until he spoke, anyway.
"Do you like playing cards?"
Leyrl looked up from studying her boots and scrunched her eyebrows in toward her nose. She was exhausted. She was bleeding--and from more than one place. All she wanted was to be thrown in a cell and left there. She doubted she'd be that lucky.
Skuff. Shick. Skuff. Shick. Skuff.
What is he doing with his feet? Leyrl thought, moving her eyes if not her head to study his disobediant feet.
Didn't your superiors teach you how to march?
In the space of a second, her rage married annoyance, settled down inside her, and had a child: bitterness.
She could taste it in the back of her mouth, although she wasn't sure why or what she was bitter about. All she knew was he was disrupting the march, and that was the only thing that made sense to her.
The only thing she felt like she could control.
Silence had embraced her as she pushed away all sound. Not that there was much to push away. The city was dead. There were no birds. No stray dogs or scraggly cats. No people. Even the air itself seemed still and lifeless, making the heavy midday air feel heavier.
Leyrl's head pounded. The pressure had to be different here, so close to the sea. She squeezed her eyes shut and then forced them back open again, feeling a suffocating kind of numbness toward everything except the headache spreading across her left temple.
Maybe she hadn't drank enough water.
Probably won't be getting much of that now.
She almost didn't hear Leif's question. It was so strange, so jovial that it shook her from her review of all the things she'd ever learned about being a prisoner of war.
That's when she realized that was happening.
Skuff. Shick. Skuff. Shick. Skuff. Shick. Sk--
Skipping.
He was skipping.
Do I still get to be your Champion if I murder someone and enjoy it?
Leif skipped alongside her, his clear blue eyes as bright as the noonday sun. His face looked odd with a smile, and she told him as much.
"Your thoughts are so interesting. Does it really matter to you what the god you don't even like thinks? Seems silly to me. And you don't seem like a silly girl. Besides, it's much to early to be thinking about killing me. I haven't even gotten started yet."
