Chapter 11

The weather was cold and bleak in this realm. Sitting on her throne of bones, she was forced to admit she was tired of this place of hiding and waiting like a thief. She was no thief, she was a true-born princess, and perhaps it was time to act like one.

“The seer is here,” Freg whispered, and she straightened. Like everyone, she had her strengths and—though she detested the word—weaknesses, and peaking into the veil of time was one of those unfortunate weaknesses, and it made her dependent on lesser beings.

“Let him in.” The door opened in answer to her demand. The seer was a thin, small man. He walked in, hunched on himself, and she sighed. She hated weak men, cowering men. She was powerful, of course, but couldn’t he have brought some spine with him?

“What have you found for me, seer?” she asked, reaching for her glass and taking a sip of wine.

“Ah, um, mistress, there is no clear picture; the p-p-path is shadowed at best,” he stammered.

She clenched