Read The Queen of Stone: Thorn of Breland for Free Online

laughter wasn’t a remnant of her nightmare … it was a sound outside her window.
    Gnolls. Lots of gnolls. Thorn reached for her shiftweave and gauntlets.
    “Delegates of foreign lands!” The voice was curt and rough, loud enough to echo across the plaza. “Present yourselves! We leave with the setting moon!”
    Thorn relaxed. The manticore hadn’t betrayed her, and the Pact hadn’t tracked her to the Calabas. This was simply business; this was why she was in Droaam.
    For a thousand years, the land to the west of Breland had been a savage frontier. Trolls lurked in mountain passes while harpies and wyverns circled the peaks. Many bold warriors traveled west to slay horrors in the name of Galifar; few returned. But over the centuries, these monsters posed little threat to the lands beyond the Graywall Mountains. The creatures weren’t organized. Warlords laid claim to land and then fought the other monsters to hold it. Now and again, a flight of harpies or pack of worgs would venture east to prey on human settlers, but for themost part the monsters had more interest in battling their own kind. Then came the Daughters of Sora Kell.
    Thirteen years ago, the hags appeared in the west accompanied by an army of ogres, trolls, and other fearsome creatures. Through sheer force and fear they bent the warlords to their will, but they wanted more than power—they wanted a kingdom. The Daughters declared the land west of the mountains to be the sovereign territory of Droaam. Soldiers scoffed at the idea that the beasts of the west could create any sort of nation; surely it would collapse within a decade, and the name of Droaam would be forgotten.
    Cyre fell before Droaam. While the Mourning destroyed the heart of Galifar, Droaam built cities and roads, expanding the city of Graywall and the capital, the Great Crag. The hags asked for a voice at the Treaty of Thronehold, but the lords of the eastern nations scoffed at the idea. It was bad enough that Darguun and Valenar were sitting at the table, but those nations had armies and had fought in the Last War. Droaam was a joke, and surely it would be gone in a year. Perhaps, with the war over, Breland would take the time to cleanse the area once and for all.
    If it was a joke, no one was laughing any longer. Three years had passed since the Treaty of Thronehold, and Droaam was stronger than ever. Through House Tharashk, the monsters of Droaam found employment as mercenaries and laborers, and the people of the Five Nations saw for themselves the power these creatures possessed. The leaders of the Thronehold nations began to wonder what forces the Daughters of Sora Kell had at their disposal … and then the invitations arrived. The hags had asked the leaders of the twelve nations recognized under the Treaty of Thronehold to send representatives to the Great Crag, to reconsider counting Droaam among their number.
    It was hard to imagine King Boranel accepting a hag or a mind flayer as a fellow monarch. But it was an excellent chance to get a spy into the heart of Droaam. Thorn’soriginal mission had been a simple one: Observe. Gather information. Find out as much as possible about Droaam’s capabilities and intentions. Watch the delegates of the other nations. Breland wouldn’t be the only nation with eyes—or knives—at the assemblage.
    Thorn had wanted to bathe, but she had no time with the convoy to the Great Crag already gathering. She pulled on her courtier’s dress. Dark brown with russet trim and the bear of Breland on the breast, it complemented her auburn hair and dark green eyes. Next came the traveling cloak, and finally her gloves.
    Like the rest of her wardrobe, her gloves were made from shiftweave, and she adjusted them to match her outfit; leather gauntlets transformed to long silk gloves. Their appearance meant little to Thorn—what mattered was the pocket of space mystically bound to each glove. One held her rapier; in a fight, she preferred something with more