Redin stumbled as the two soldiers led him across the stone floor, the large gash in his leg relinquishing even more blood to the earth. The temptation to let himself completely collapse mocked him, promising him a moments rest, but he kept himself upright. A light, feminine laugh came from the far side of the chamber. She had seen him stumble. He refused to raise his head and look at her.

The soldiers stopped. One of them kicked Redin's wounded leg, making him fall to his knees in pain. The Lady laughed again, just ahead of him. He heard the rustling of her dress as she stood and stepped down from her throne, but he still refused to look up.

"What is the matter, Redin of Athraea?" Her voice was clear as water flowing through a brook, but her words carried the sharp edge of poison. "Do you not wish to look upon the face of your new queen?"

Redin fought against the dryness in his throat. "You are not my queen," he said, though it came as little more than a weak whisper.

"Are you certain of that?" The rustling of her dress came closer, until even with his eyes cast towards the ground Redin could see the hem of her dress. "My soldiers have defeated your own time and again. Those who would stand against me have no hope of succeeding."

"They will die before they call you queen, as will I."

The Lady laughed again. She grabbed his hair, forcing him to look towards her face. Her beautiful face, framed with the living masses of millipedes, their thousands of legs constantly moving. One of them crawled down her arm onto Redin. "You will serve me, Redin. And you will convince your people to serve me, as well."

He screamed only a moment. When the millipede returned to the Lady, Redin was little more than shell. A shell who helped her defeat an entire people.