Capture the Crown

by Jennifer Estep

  “Oh, shut the fuck up,” I snapped. “And come and try to kill us, if you dare.”

  He stabbed his sword at me. “She’s mine. I’m going to enjoy sawing her tongue out of her mouth.”

  The guards nodded, although they kept giving me evil grins. They wouldn’t kill me, but they would take great delight in hurting me as much as possible. I tightened my grip on the arrow still hidden in my hand.

  “You’re making a fatal mistake,” Leonidas warned. “I don’t have a coldiron collar clamped around my neck to dampen my magic this time.”

  Wexel laughed. “I don’t care whether you have a bloody collar around your neck. This time, I’m going to gut you and make sure you’re dead.”

  The captain snarled, raised his sword high, and charged forward. Leonidas growled, lifted his own blade, and stepped up to meet him.

  The guards in front of me grinned again and advanced. They probably thought they were being intimidating, or some such nonsense. Fools. I sprinted ahead, taking the fight to them.

  I ducked under the first man’s swing, shot back up, and sliced the arrow in my hand across his face. At least, I tried to slice the arrow across his face. The barbs dug into his cheek, and the weapon got stuck in his skin.

  The guard yelped and staggered back, jerking the arrow out of my hand, although it remained lodged in his face, as though he were a fish I’d hooked. While he was distracted, I reached down, plucked my dagger out of the side of my right boot, and sliced it across his stomach. That man dropped his sword and crumpled to the ground, whimpering and clutching his guts, which were oozing everywhere.

  I twirled the dagger around in my hand and stepped up to face the next guard. I ducked his blow, then whirled past him and punched my blade into his back. As he screamed, I yanked the dagger out, then sank my fingers into his hair, pulled his head back, and cut his throat. He fell to the ground, gurgling and bleeding out.

  Across the workshop, Leonidas was battling several guards, along with Wexel, who was using his superior mutt strength to hammer his sword at the prince over and over again.

  Leonidas blocked Wexel’s blows, then smoothly spun to the side. His long black cloak rippled around his body like a cloud of death as he punched his sword into the chests of first one guard, then another. He skewered a third guard, then spun back toward Wexel. The prince easily avoided another attack and slashed his sword across the captain’s arm.

  Wexel howled and staggered away. Leonidas cut down another guard and stalked after the captain—

  A glint of metal caught my eye, and I instinctively ducked. A guard had snuck up on my left side, and his weapon whizzed by close enough to ruffle my hair. He lifted his blade for another strike, so I snapped up my hand, reached for my magic, and used my power to toss him across the room. The guard hit the wall with a loud, sickening crack, then dropped to the flagstones—dead.

  That one harsh crack echoed in my mind, and I froze, my hand still hovering in midair. Despite all the training I’d done with Rhea, Serilda, and Evie, memories of the attack in the woods all those years ago flooded my mind. The chambers around me flickered as my magic rose up, trying to toss me back into the past yet again.

  Another guard yelled and charged at me, and the noise and motion jolted me back into the here and now. I didn’t have time to lift my dagger or spin out of the way, so I lashed out with my power again. This guard also flew through the air and hit the wall with a loud, sickening crack. That second sound joined the first one still echoing in my ears, and even more memories erupted in my mind, like fireworks lighting up the night sky.

  “Not now!” I snarled at my magic, as though it was something that could be scolded into submission, but of course it ignored all my attempts to quash it.

  Several more guards yelled, charged forward, and swarmed all around me. The sheer mass and force of the men threatened to push me back, but I planted my boots on the grimy flagstones and held my ground. If they shoved me down to the floor, then I was finished.

  Rhea had always said that losing your footing in a fight was one of the worst things you could do, and she’d knocked me down enough times to prove her point. So I gritted my teeth and swung my dagger as hard and fast as I could. The frantic bang-bang-bang of metal hitting metal rang in my ears and rattled my whole body.

  I couldn’t kill all the guards with just my dagger, so I reached for my magic again. But my power suddenly felt as slippery as an eel, and it squirted out of my grasp and sank into the sea of memories still churning in my mind. I growled with frustration, sliced open another guard’s stomach with my dagger, and whirled around, trying to give myself more space to manuever.

  Across the workshop, several dead guards lay at Leonidas’s feet, although a few were still standing, along with Wexel.

  Leonidas’s eyes locked with mine, as though he was checking to make sure I was still alive, the same way I was doing to him. Then his gaze flicked past me. “Watch out!”

  Before I could react, a guard grabbed my shoulder, spun me around, and slammed his fist into my face. Pain exploded in my jaw, my head snapped back, and my feet flew out from under me. I landed hard on my ass on the floor, and the remaining guards quickly formed a tight ring around me.

  “Not so tough now, are you?” one of them sneered.

  That man reached down, grabbed my arm, and hauled me to my feet. I was still gripping my dagger, but the guards closed in all around me, trapping my hand down against my side. In an instant, their fingers started digging into my arms, back, hips, whatever they could reach.

  She has such soft skin . . .

  Never had a noble lady before . . .

  She won’t be so pretty when we get through with her . . .

  The guards’ horrific, lecherous thoughts slammed into my mind, and my gargoyle pendant blazed as hot as the summer sun against my chest. I latched onto that heat, along with the answering rage boiling up inside me.

  So much rage.

  The rage roared through me like a wildfire scorching everything it touched. But it burned too fast, too hot, too bright, and I couldn’t control it. My feelings mixed, mingled, and merged together with the guards’ cruel intentions until suddenly, one enormous storm of emotion was churning, crackling, and crashing inside me. I had to do something to release it, to release all the terrible, unspeakable things that the guards were still thinking, that I was still feeling.

  So I screamed.

  I screamed with rage and pain and fear and frustration and everything else I had been feeling ever since I had first woken up in the palace, in Morta, so very far away from my home and everyone and everything I loved.

  I screamed and screamed and screamed.

  With each new wave of sound, magic poured out of me, and not just out of my hands like usual. No, this magic surged out of my entire body, like a tornado blasting across a plain and sweeping away everything in its path. In an instant, the storm of power knocked all the guards away from me and sent them flying across the room.

  But my magic didn’t stop there—I didn’t stop there.

  Tubes, jars, books, swords. Everything that wasn’t nailed down blasted off the tabletops and out of the bookcases and off the weapons racks, zipped through the air, and slammed into the guards who had attacked me. Even a couple of the strix cages broke free from their ceiling chains and crashed to the floor. The flying debris pelted the guards, making them hunker down on their hands and knees to keep from getting glass and books and spears smashed into their faces.

  My scream went on . . . and on . . . and on . . . until my throat grew scratchy and my breath finally ran out.

  I staggered back, staring at the destruction I’d caused. All the guards were huddled on the floor. Most of them were dead, but the ones who were still alive were buried in glass, books, and other debris.

  I wheezed and clutched my tunic, my fist closing around the gargoyle pendant hidden underneath the fabric. For once, the pendant didn’t feel hot or cold. It was simply resting against my chest
, as innocuous as any other piece of jewelry. I kept clutching it, though, pretending it was as heavy as an anchor steadying my internal ship in that relentlessly stormy sea, just like Alvis had taught me.

  My wheezing eased, and I slowly came back to my regular self. I kept a tight grip on my magic, though, ready to unleash my power if any of the guards attacked me again. Part of me wanted them to rise up, just so I could cut them down—just so I could hurt them even worse than how they’d wanted to brutalize me.

  Gemma? Gemma! Grimley’s worried voice filled my mind. Are you okay? Why are you using so much magic?

  The gargoyle must have sensed my intense outburst through our bond. I’m fine. Some guards attacked me, but I got the better of them.

  I’m on my way.

  NO, I replied in a stern voice. You need to stay hidden. I’m fine. If I need you, I’ll call for you.

  Grimley grumbled his displeasure, but his presence retreated to the back of my mind—

  Boots crunched through the glass that littered the floor. I whirled around and raised the dagger still clutched in my other hand.

  Leonidas stopped and held his arm out to his side, as if I were a rabid animal he was approaching. I cringed. He was the very last person I had ever wanted to see me like this—utterly enraged and thoroughly, murderously out of control.

  Then again, I supposed it didn’t matter, since he had seen me like this before, when I’d tried to kill him in the woods. I just hoped he didn’t connect me to that girl, for so many reasons.

  Leonidas lowered his hand and eased up beside me. “Are you okay?”

  His tone was soft and neutral, with no hint of judgment, but it made me cringe again. Even though I didn’t want to, I forced myself to release my gargoyle pendant, along with my magic. Then I wiped the cold sweat off my forehead, hoping he wouldn’t notice how badly my hand was trembling.

  “Of course.” The lie slid easily off my lips. My magic might not always work when or how I wanted it to, but my tongue always did.

  Leonidas looked out over the shattered glass, tattered books, and other debris littering the floor. I thought he might murmur some inane platitude about how I’d only done what was necessary to save myself, nothing more, nothing less, but he remained silent. Even if he had uttered the words, he would have been wrong.

  I had done more, and I wanted to do more still. Even though my enemies had been defeated, I still longed to unleash more magic, more power, more death and destruction and chaos.

  I never wanted to be like the Princess Gemma who had cowered under a table, too afraid to help the people being slaughtered around her during the Seven Spire massacre. But I had never learned how to balance those memories and the accompanying fear, guilt, grief, and shame alongside my mind magier magic. At times, using my power felt like too much of a temptation, which made me even more frightened—of myself.

  I could literally kill people with a thought. I had done it as a child, more than once, and I had bloody loved doing it again right now.

  Part of me had reveled in the pain and fear flooding the guards’ faces and sensing their panic and terror when they realized that I was going to hurt them, that I was going to kill them, and there was nothing they could do to stop me. For a few, brief shining moments, hurting the guards had drowned out my own fears and had made me feel strong.

  In some ways, I thought that made me even more of a monster than Maeven was. At least the queen had never been afraid, and she was always in control. Me? I was a mess of roiling emotions, and my internal ship careened from one wave to another with no clear course in sight.

  But standing here mooning about my feelings was a useless exercise, so I drew in a deep, steadying breath, then looked over at the guards. Half a dozen men were moaning and groaning on the floor, but one person was missing.

  “Where’s Wexel?” I asked.

  “He escaped,” Leonidas replied. “He was losing our battle, so he shoved another man in front of him, then ran away, just like he always does when a fight doesn’t go his way. Wexel bolted before you unleashed your power, so he didn’t see you destroy the workshop.”

  He shrugged, as though the captain’s escape was of no further concern. Well, I was certainly concerned about it, but we had a more immediate problem.

  I gestured at the guards. “What are you going to do with them?”

  The men were still down on the floor, clutching their heads, ribs, and more.

  Leonidas stepped forward, his gaze swinging from one man to the next. They all grimaced and ducked their heads, unable to meet the eyes of the prince they had betrayed.

  Anger radiated off Leonidas, burning as hotly as my own rage had. Sometimes, I forgot he had the same sort of magic that I did, although he always seemed to be in complete control of his power—and especially his feelings. He would probably summon some guards loyal to him, or at least to Maeven, and have these traitors thrown into the dungeon.

  Leonidas studied the guards a moment longer. Then he snapped up his hand, reached for his magic, and sent all the broken shards of glass flying at the men.

  Thwack-thwack-thwack.

  Thwack-thwack-thwack.

  Thwack-thwack-thwack.

  One after another, the sharp shards of glass punched into the arms, necks, and chests of every guard who was still alive. Blood sprayed everywhere, adding a fresh coat of gruesome scarlet paint to the workshop. None of the men had a chance, and most of them died without making another sound.

  I stood there, eyes wide, completely stunned.

  When it was over, and the last guard had fallen to the floor, Leonidas released his magic, and a few final bits of glass tinkle-tinkled against the flagstones like macabre wind chimes tolling out a dirge for the men he’d just killed.

  Leonidas turned toward me, his face eerily calm. I had seen that same expression on him before, when the turncoat guard had dragged me away from him in the Spire Mountains. And more recently, when he had knocked out Conley and his crew in the mine.

  “Why did you do that?” My throat was still scratchy from my screams, so my voice came out as a harsh, ragged whisper. “Why did you kill your own men?”

  A cold light filled his eyes. “Those weren’t my men. They sealed their fates when they sided with Wexel. The fewer enemies I have in the palace, the safer I will be.”

  He hesitated, as if he wanted to say more, but I didn’t dare try to skim his thoughts. I wasn’t sure I would like what I might hear.

  Leonidas stepped even closer to me. He stretched out his fingers as if he were going to cup my cheek, but I jerked back. His face hardened, and his hand plummeted to his side.

  “The fewer enemies you have in the palace, the safer you will be as well,” he said. “These men saw what you could do. They knew you were a mind magier.”

  I sucked in a breath. “You killed these men because of me?”

  A small, humorless smile curved his lips. The dark, grim expression only made him look more handsome, despite the flecks of blood that covered his face like ruby shards. “I brought you here, and I won’t be the reason that you die. If any one of these men had blabbed about what they saw, Milo would have come for you at once.”

  “I didn’t ask you to do that. I never asked you to do that. I can take care of myself.”

  He frowned, as though my words puzzled him. “Why would you ever have to ask? I would never let any harm come to you. Not if I could prevent it.”

  “Why not?” I whispered, desperately wanting to know and yet dreading the answer.

  Leonidas hesitated, as if he were going to tell me, but then that eerie, calm expression settled on his face again. “We can’t stay here. Wexel will return soon with more guards. Or worse, Milo.”

  He moved past me, leaving me standing in the middle of the ruined workshop, staring down at the dead guards that we’d both had a hand in slaughtering.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Leonidas was right about one thing. We couldn’t stay here, so I followed him out of the w
orkshop, up the stairs, through the secret passageway hidden in the liladorn, and back to the main part of the palace. He led me through several side corridors, avoiding the busier common areas, and we made it back to my chambers without incident.

  By the time Leonidas waved his hand to open the doors, I had gotten over my shock, although questions kept swirling through my mind. I glanced around, wondering if Wexel might be lying in wait for us, but the area was empty.

  Despite the blood, dust, and grime covering my torn, ripped clothes, I trudged over and sat down on the bed. Soiling the blankets was the least of my worries right now.

  Leonidas prowled around, stopping at the balcony doors. His eyes grew distant, and his magic swirled through the air, as soft as feathers sliding across my skin. Lyra . . .

  I didn’t hear the strix’s response, but everything must have been okay, because Leonidas blinked and released his power.

  “What do we do now?” I asked. “Leave the palace?”

  Despite the rapidly escalating danger, I didn’t want to leave. Not until I knew exactly what Milo was plotting to do with whatever tearstone weapons he’d made. But Xenia had always claimed that the most important part of being a spy was knowing when it was time for a strategic retreat—or keeping my head attached to my shoulders, as Reiko had said in the library earlier.

  Leonidas shrugged. “We don’t do anything.”

  “What do you mean we don’t do anything?” I shot to my feet and threw my hands up into the air. “The captain of the royal guards—your royal guards—just tried to kill us! Inside your own palace!”

  He shrugged again. “Today isn’t the first time Wexel has tried to murder me at Myrkvior. He has never liked me, not even when he was a young guard serving King Maximus, and he absolutely despises Lyra because she almost killed him once in defense of me. Wexel picked Milo’s side a long time ago, and the captain delights in destroying anyone that he or my brother perceives as a threat or an enemy. Unfortunately for me, I top both of their lists.”

  “You’re really not going to leave?”