"Kneel!" I shouted, blade splitting the cold air.
The court froze. Snow sifted down beyond the colonnade, white and silent. A rival queen's laugh died in her mouth. A guard's spear clanged against marble and slid away.
"Hold her!" someone shouted.
I moved.
"Stop!" the queen screamed. "She betrayed us—"
I cut through the nearest guard's wrist and felt the leather give. Blood warmed my palm. I didn't stop to admire skill. I moved for the queen.
"Don't—" the queen begged, voice small. Her eyes were wet with fear, not lines or strategy. She was useless.
"Say my name," I demanded.
"No," she breathed.
A hand seized my wrist. I twisted, the blade nicking skin and silk. The guard who held me fell. I stepped forward, raised the sword.
"Traitor!" the court cried in a single, ugly throat.
"Traitor," I echoed. The word tasted like gravel. I swung.
The world blurred, then condensed into white and heat.
I hit something soft and warm. The sword clattered. The ceiling was wrong—painted flowers instead of carved dragons. Snow was a carpet of faux fur under my knees. The room smelled of shampoo and lemon detergent.
I lunged up and the bed jolted. A woman on the floor stared at me.
"Are you insane? What are you doing?" she yelled.
I blinked and found a phone in my hand. My hand shook. I heard a voice in my head, not the court's, not the queen's