The conspirators met on the shores of a black and ancient sea.

Aina raised her hood and dipped her face into the light of a low seabound moon, waves washing ashore beneath her sandals. She pulled her hood tight, and waited.

The other conspirator peeled his hood back. “The spider spins a silver strand of moonlight.”

The waves washed under Aina’s sandals again. “He spins a web of fate.”

The response still didn’t sound right coming from her mouth. Aina had first learned it at Wallerton’s Pub, where her father often took her as a child. Discussion of the problems facing the kingdom, somehow over the years discussion had turned into action, and action?

Into assassination.

“Chilly night,” Sir Eld said, pulling his hood taut. A glimpse of his face was all it would take to unravel their plans, and for the occasion he’d worn the makeup of an Initiate. Those wishing to join the Order wore makeup not of their choosing, sloppily applied like a drunk jester, to distinguish themselves from those who’d earned their place. The beach was empty this time of night, but if anyone saw, they wouldn’t see Sir Eld, the king’s First Knight who’d unseated seven riders in the last tourney. They’d see some sloppy Initiate, learning from an ordained priest.

“It’s warmer behind the walls,” Aina said, and growing up in the slums behind those walls, she knew to cherish the warm days. Defending against the heat was as simple as fanning yourself. The cold was a different matter. Against the cold there was no defense; it reached through layers, chapping your lips and cracking your skin. “The men are anxious.”

“I’d expect nothing less,” Sir Eld said. He turned his head towards the sea.

Aina looked at the sea too, source of life. The first King of the Tydarian dynasty had crawled from the endless waters carrying the eversharp Sword of Sighs, slaying the abominations nesting on the beach and establishing the great Kingdom of Madri. The outer walls of the kingdom overlooked the sea, the king’s chambers at the top of the Red Tower, where he could watch land and sea, their present and their past.

Their present was tyranny, their past lies.

Aina watched the waves wash ashore in slow, rhythmic motions. The walls of the kingdom didn’t extend to the edge of the cliff. There was plenty of room to walk the wall and gaze at the endless waters.

Or see the bodies.

A breeze billowed her hood and she lets its chill settle on her cheeks. The bodies. The Kingdom hanged criminals and left their corpses for the sea hawks, on the wall facing the sea. Aina’s mother had taken her there once.

And when Aina flinched away, her mother yanked on her ears until she looked. For years Aina’s father had spoken of reform. He’d requested an audience with the king and Aina asked if that was really her father. All the condemned men were hooded and Aina’s mother told her not to be stupid, that was her father and Aina asked if they could leave, she wanted to be gone before the sea hawks came, and staring at the hood she thought it kept her father’s face hidden but provided no protection. The sea hawks would eat her father’s eyes, his nose, digging into his cheeks and yanking his gums free from his mouth in tight pink strings. Blood? How long would you bleed after death?

A wave dried short of her sandals, retreating. She said, “No one sails on this sea.”

“It’s too dangerous.”

“I’d restore sailing.” She looked at Sir Eld. “There’s more out there than here.”

“Yes,” Sir Eld whispered, and looked towards the sea once more.

The waves gained strength. They washed over Aina’s feet.

Then Sir Eld said the words Aina had wanted to hear for so long. Her father’s face under the hood, the hawks chewing through the cloth to consume his face. A king, tyranny, Aina didn’t smile when she heard the words. She understood it was time.

Sir Eld said, “The strand awaits.”