All Chapters of A Marriage of Swords: Chapter 1 - Chapter 6

Chapter 2: The Unseen CurrentsThe scream that woke Makil was not a memory.It was sharp, short, and female, cut off with a gasp of effort. It came from the gardens below his window, in the deceptive hour before dawn when the world belonged to guards, ghosts, and fools.He was at the casement in three strides, still in his sleeping trousers, the chill morning air raising gooseflesh on his bare chest. Below, in the mist-shrouded knot garden, two figures moved.One was a guard—Petyr, from his bulk—and he was on the ground, clutching his wrist, his training sword lying in the dew-slick grass several feet away. Standing over him, holding a practice longsword with an alarmingly familiar ease, was Leigh.Her hair, freed from its severe knot, was a dark braid over one shoulder. She wore not a dress, but men's riding leathers, fitted and worn soft with use. They did not hide her form; they revealed it as something functional, powerful. She wasn't breathing hard."Again," she said, her voice c

Chapter 4: A Fortress of Sand and BoneFor three days, the castle breathed a lie.The official story, delivered by a stone-faced Gerald to the ladies over a tense breakfast, was that a loyal, long-serving steward in the east wing had succumbed to a sudden brain fever, causing a regrettable disturbance. He was now being tended to in the secluded gardens of the royal hospice, and all was well.Adelaide accepted this with wide-eyed, sympathetic murmurs. Vanessa sketched a sad-looking rose. Briana’s gaze had turned speculative, dissecting the lie for the political weakness it might reveal. But she said nothing.Leigh knew the truth, and it sat in her gut like a shard of ice. She had seen the haunted wreck of Prince Charles, the living ghost who was the keystone of Makil’s entire architecture of distrust. She had also seen the utter devastation on Makil’s face before he sealed it away again. The man who had sparred with her, who had conspired with her over maps, had vanished. In his place

That evening, as the sun bled into the western horizon—toward the strait—she couldn’t stay indoors. She went to the highest western tower, a disused watchtower, and stared out as if she could see across the leagues.She wasn’t alone for long.“He’ll be alright, you know.”Leigh started. King Alistair stood in the tower doorway, wrapped in a plain cloak, looking more like a tired grandfather than a monarch. He joined her at the parapet, leaning heavily on the stone.“I didn’t mean to disturb you, sire.”“You disturb everything, my dear. It’s rather refreshing.” He looked at her, his keen eyes missing nothing. “He told me about your message to your father. And about the map. You have a mind for this. A mind I haven’t seen since his mother.”Leigh stayed silent, unsure of the royal game.“She was from the northern marches,” Alistair continued, gazing out. “Could ride and shoot better than any of my knights. Hated court. Loved the wind. She died bringing Charles into the world. A difficul