Oh Austre, God of Colors . . . she thought, feeling sick. I’ll be safe, though, won’t I? she thought. The terror of Hallandren, the monster that had never drawn a living breath. She wouldn’t speak with Vivenna, or listen to the tutors, or be chided by Mab, or ride the royal horses, or go looking for flowers in the wilderness, or work in the kitchens. She wouldn’t see her father again for a long while, if ever. She was being sent to Hallandren, a kingdom her people cursed with every second breath. She felt her hair bleach white with fear. At the very least, she thought, they could have let me ride horse back, rather than forcing me to sit in this carriage. But that, unfortunately, wouldn’t have been an appropriate way to enter Hallandren. The carriage bumped, but she just sat, numb. This isn’t the way any of it is supposed to happen! This isn’t the way it’s supposed to be, she thought. It bordered on ostentation, which might have thrilled her, had it not been bearing her away from Idris. That, combined with a steward and several serving boys, made for a procession as grand as Siri had ever seen. Her father had sent the kingdom’s nicest carriage-along with an honor guard of twenty soldiers-to bear her southward. Fafen, the second daughter, had also taken the lessons in case Vivenna died before the day of the wedding. The king had started her classes from the day she could walk, training her in the ways of court life and politics. Idris had thrown a celebration on the day of Vivenna’s birth. Two days had passed, and she still didn’t understand. Siri sat, stunned, in a rattling carriage, her homeland growing more and more distant with each bump and shake.

Warbreaker 2