Paloma finished searching the last of the magiers and straightened up. “Did you find anything?”
I got to my feet to tell her about the pendant, but a voice cut me off.
“Highness!” someone yelled. “Highness!”
“Over here!” I called out.
Footsteps slapped against the cobblestones, and Sullivan sprinted into the alley, along with Serilda and Cho. All three of them were clutching swords, although they lowered their weapons when they realized the danger was dead.
Sullivan hurried over to me, reached out, and cupped my face in his hand. His blue eyes searched mine, and he gently stroked his thumb over my cheek. “Highness?” he asked, all sorts of worried questions squeezed into that one word.
I reached up and grabbed his hand. “I’m fine, and so is Paloma. It was a trap, but we turned the tables on them. I’m sorry I ran off. I didn’t mean to worry you.”
He nodded, accepting my explanation, then dropped his hand and stared at the dead magiers. “Who were they? More members of the Bastard Brigade?”
Serilda bent down and picked up one of Ricardo’s knives from the weapons pile. She twirled the blade around, then held it out where Cho could see it. Worry creased his face.
Serilda tossed the knife down onto the pile with the others. “No. These are geldjager blades.”
“I think you’re right.” I showed my friends the coined-woman pendant that Lena had been wearing.
“The DiLucris sent geldjagers to Svalin?” Sullivan shook his head. “That’s bold, even for them. Usually they only dispatch their pet vipers when there is serious money to be made.”
“But who hired the geldjagers to come to Svalin and start that rumor about another Blair being alive?” I asked. “Was it Maeven? The Mortan king? Or did the DiLucris do this on their own? Who was Ricardo hoping to deliver me to? And for what purpose?”
“Ransom?” Cho suggested. “Maybe the DiLucris were going to sell you to the highest bidder, whether it was Bellona or Morta or someone else. That would be a good way to create even more tension between the two kingdoms, as well as make the DiLucris a hefty profit. The Mint trades in money, power, and favors, and auctioning off a queen would have netted them all three.”
“Or this whole thing could be about payback,” Serilda said. “Maybe Vasilia or Cordelia made some deal with the Mint. Maybe the DiLucris want to get their money back one way or another, now that the other Blair queens are dead.”
“Maybe,” I murmured. “It could be any one of those things or something else we haven’t even thought of yet.”
I studied the gold pendant again. Perhaps it was my imagination, but the three tiny coins in the woman’s face winked at me like evil eyes, as if they were warning me that this was only the beginning of this latest plot against me—and that things were only going to get worse.
Every sly glimmer of gold made another match of anger flare to life in my chest. I was used to the Mortans trying to kill me, but the DiLucris had sent their operatives to my city, my capital, to torture and kill whomever had been unlucky enough to fall into the geldjagers’ trap.
No one threatened my people like that—not without suffering the harshest of consequences.
I thought you were just a mutt who could smell things. Ricardo’s sneering voice filled my mind. He’d thought I was weak, and no doubt so did his employers, which was why they’d launched such a sly, vicious scheme.
Well, I could be sly and vicious too. Paloma and I had already killed the geldjagers, but their masters needed to be reminded that they fucked with Bellona—and underestimated me—at their own peril.
“Well, whoever they were working for, geldjagers roaming the streets of Svalin is troublesome, Evie,” Cho said. “Very troublesome.”
“You’re right,” I snarled. “This does mean trouble—for my enemies.”
“What are you thinking, highness?” Sullivan asked.
I stabbed my finger at Lena’s body. “The girl said the geldjagers had been ordered to send me a message. Well, I’m going to use the geldjagers to send a message of my own right back to the DiLucris and the Mortan king.”
* * *
An hour later, I once again found myself in a plaza surrounded by dead bodies. But instead of the rotten, trash-strewn city slums, I was now standing in a fresh, clean, open space along the Summanus River. Seven bridges led from the city of Svalin across the river and over to Seven Spire palace. Each bridge had a name, and I was standing at the end of the one called Retribution.
Very appropriate for what I had in mind.
Unlike many of the city plazas, the one at the end of the Retribution Bridge didn’t feature a bubbling fountain, pretty statue, or grassy park. No, this plaza boasted a large stone platform with several trapdoors set into the bottom and sturdy scaffolding rising up and running along the back of it.
This was where people were executed.
Criminals, mostly, who had committed atrocious acts that demanded severe, permanent punishment. Once judgment was handed down, the condemned were brought from the palace dungeon to this platform, where they were hanged until dead for all the people of Svalin to see.
Tonight, I’d decided to use the platform for a slightly different purpose—to display the dead geldjagers.
Several palace guards wearing short-sleeve blue tunics topped with silver breastplates were standing on the platform, wrestling with the bodies and stringing them up with ropes. Even though the geldjagers were already dead, their remains would hang here until I said otherwise.
“Snap to it, men!” a loud voice barked out. “Queen’s orders!”
The shouts came from a fifty-something man standing on one side of the platform. He was a tall, stern, imposing figure with short gray hair, brown eyes, dark bronze skin, and a lumpy nose that had obviously been broken multiple times. He was wearing a short-sleeve blue tunic, just like the other guards, but the feathered texture of his silver breastplate marked his importance, as did my crown-of-shards crest emblazoned in the metal over his heart.
Auster, the captain of the palace guards, hopped off the platform, walked over, and bowed low to me in the traditional Bellonan style. I had repeatedly told Auster that he didn’t have to bow every single time he saw me, but the captain was a stickler for tradition, at least in front of his men.
“My queen,” he said, straightening up. “Is everything proceeding according to your satisfaction?”
I stared at the platform. The guards had slipped the ropes around the geldjagers and were slowly hoisting the bodies into the air. “Yes. Thank you for seeing to it on such short notice.”
“Well, perhaps if you had told me that you were planning to leave Xenia’s finishing school without any guards and kill a bunch of assassins, I would have been better prepared.” Auster didn’t bother to keep the dry sarcasm or chiding tone out of his voice. He hadn’t been happy that I hadn’t informed him of my plans.
“I didn’t want you to worry, and I didn’t want a bunch of guards marching through the plaza and potentially scaring off whoever came to the meeting.” I sighed. “But most of all, I hoped that the rumor was true, and that another Blair was still alive.”
Auster’s face softened. “I would have hoped it too. I still do.”
His voice came out as a low rasp, and the scent of his salty grief washed over me. Like me, Auster had also witnessed the Seven Spire massacre. Even worse, he’d failed in his duty to protect Queen Cordelia, something that would always haunt him, just like it haunted me.
Thinking about the dead queen made me turn and stare up at Seven Spire palace on the other side of the river. The palace was the crown jewel of Svalin and the kingdom of Bellona, and the structure spiraled up, out, and into the side of Seven Spire Mountain before ending in seven tearstone spires that seemed to reach all the way up to the moon and stars. Balconies, terraces, and metal lifts adorned the outside of the palace like strings of fluorestones, honey cranberries, and cornucopia balls on a yule tree, but my gaze
locked onto the massive columns that supported the structure.
In tribute to Bellona’s history, gladiators were carved into the columns, along with swords, shields, daggers, and spears, as though the warriors and weapons were all frozen in some epic battle that stretched across the entire face of the palace and was threatening to spill over onto the surrounding mountains.
Gargoyles with curved horns and long tails tipped with arrowlike stones were also carved into the columns, along with strixes, hawklike birds with wide wings that looked just as sharp as the gladiators’ swords. A few caladriuses were also scattered across the columns, as though they were hiding amid the chaos of the perpetual battle. The tiny, owlish birds might be much smaller, but they were just as powerful as the other creatures.
The artistry of the carvings was exquisite, but what made the columns truly eye-catching was the fact that they were made of tearstone. In addition to both absorbing and deflecting magic, tearstone also had another dual nature—it could change color, going from bright starry gray to deep midnight-blue and back again.
Given the evening hour and the soft light streaming out of the palace windows, the columns were such a dark blue that they almost looked black, although the gladiators and creatures still seemed to move back and forth, lifting and lowering their weapons and wings, and fighting for supremacy.
Despite the beautiful scene, my heart started to ache. The shifting colors represented the Summer and Winter lines of the Blair family—a family that seemed to be extinct, except for me.
I turned away from the palace. “You still think another Blair is alive?”
Auster shrugged. “I don’t know, but I plan to keep searching. I might not hear as many whispers as Xenia, but I have my own spies, and I’m going to investigate every single Blair rumor that they bring to me. Besides, it doesn’t hurt to hope, does it?”
But that was the problem—it did hurt to hope, more than I’d ever imagined.
Auster gestured at the scaffolding. “Are you sure about this, Evie?”
“Yes. The DiLucris and the Mortans need to be reminded what happens to people who are foolish enough to cause trouble in Bellona. And not just them, but all the other kings and queens and anyone else who thinks that Bellona is weak—that I am weak.”
The words left a bitter taste on my tongue. Oh, I knew that I wasn’t weak, not after everything I had been through over the past year, but others didn’t feel the same. Most people in Bellona and beyond still believed that I had only lucked into the throne by accident, and my perceived weakness when it came to both my reign and my magic was the source of many of my problems. Displaying the geldjagers’ bodies was the first step to fixing that. I had other steps in mind, especially when it came to the upcoming Regalia, although I wasn’t quite sure how to accomplish them yet.
“Weak is a word that I would never use to describe you, my queen,” Auster said.
I huffed. “You’re my captain. You have to say that.”
He shook his head. “I wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true.”
The strong scent of his lime truthfulness washed over me, and I inhaled the aroma deeply, even though it burned my nose. Auster’s quiet, steady belief meant far more to me than he knew. Now it was time for me to earn that belief—and the respect of everyone in Bellona and beyond.
“I want more guards patrolling the plazas, just in case we didn’t kill all the geldjagers. Coordinate with Xenia, pool your spies, and see what news your collective sources have about the geldjagers, the DiLucris, and the Mortans. Also, have Halvar and Bjarni step up their work with the palace guards. I want them firmly in command and ready to defend Seven Spire when we leave for the Regalia.”
I paused. “I also have some . . . ideas for the Regalia, some things I want to accomplish while we’re there, but we can talk more about those in the morning.”
“Yes, my queen.” Auster jerked his head to the side. “Before I go, is there anything you would like me to do about your current audience?”
It was after eight now, and most of the nobles, senators, guilders, and other wealthy, important citizens who roamed the Seven Spire halls had either retired to their chambers inside the palace or returned to their homes and apartments in the city for the night.
Most, but unfortunately not all.
A short man with thinning blond hair, blue eyes, pale skin, and a bulging belly was standing off to one side of the plaza. His arms were crossed over his chest, and he was studying the geldjagers’ bodies with a critical gaze. Lord Fullman was one of the wealthiest—and most demanding—nobles at Seven Spire. He’d scurried out here less than fifteen minutes after a wagon had delivered the bodies, and he’d been watching the proceedings ever since.
And he wasn’t the only one.
A woman in her seventies with short, curly iron-gray hair, golden eyes, and ebony skin was standing a few feet away from Fullman. Lady Diante was another wealthy, powerful noble, although she was far more skillful and patient when it came to playing courtly games than Fullman was. Diante had waited a full half hour before coming to the plaza, and her expression was more thoughtful than critical.
Auster eyed the two nobles. “I could always hoist up Fullman with the rest of the bodies.” A smile creased the captain’s face. “It would be fun to watch him kick and squirm.”
“As entertaining as that would be, his screams would wake the entire palace and probably the rest of the city.” I shook my head. “I would never subject my people to such a horror as that.”
Auster let out a low, amused chuckle, then bowed to me again and headed back over to the platform. The captain walked right past Fullman like he didn’t even see him standing there. Fullman glared at Auster’s back before scurrying over to me. Diante followed him, albeit at a much slower, more measured pace.
“Queen Everleigh,” Fullman cooed, plastering a smile on his face. “I didn’t realize you had such excitement planned.”
“I would hardly call stringing up a bunch of dead bodies excitement,” I drawled.
Diante chuckled at my rebuke. She and Fullman were bitter rivals, and each always took great pleasure in anything that harmed the other, even something as simple as words.
Fullman shot her a withering glare and turned back to me. “Yes, well, do you think this is wise? From what I’ve heard, these people were geldjagers who worked for the DiLucris.”
“Yes, these geldjagers did work for the DiLucris. I don’t know who they were after or what bounty they were sent to collect, but they were using their magic and weapons to harass the plaza merchants, along with innocent shoppers, so Serilda and Cho put an end to them.”
That was the story my friends and I had concocted, and Paloma, Sullivan, Serilda, and Cho were already inside Seven Spire, telling it to anyone who would listen. By morning, it should be all over the palace. Auster would make sure that it spread throughout the ranks of the guards and the servants, while Xenia and her spies would whisper about it to the rest of the city.
Fullman’s eyes narrowed, as though he didn’t believe my lies, but he drew in a breath, ready to try another tactic. “Yes, but displaying their bodies in such a fashion could send the wrong message. That we are hostile to DiLucri interests, and to the Mint itself. Or have you forgotten that the Regalia will soon begin on Fortuna Island?”
No, I hadn’t forgotten that the Regalia was taking place on the DiLucris’ home island. As much as I hated to admit it, Fullman was right. I was thumbing my nose at the DiLucris days before I was scheduled to travel to their territory.
Not the smartest thing I’d ever done as queen, but in this case, being seen as strong and vicious was more important than being smart and tactful. Displaying the geldjagers’ bodies might make the DiLucris think twice about attacking my people again. And if it didn’t, well, I would keep giving the DiLucris visual reminders of how Bellona dealt with her enemies until my message finally sank in.
But I wasn’t going to share my thoughts with the pompous lord, so I lifted
my chin and peered down my nose at him. “I think it sends just the right message—that no one, geldjager or otherwise, comes to my kingdom, my capital, and terrorizes my people.”
I stared at him a moment longer, then glanced over at the platform. The guards had hoisted the last body into the air, and Auster waved at me. I waved back and started walking toward the bridge.
I had thought—hoped—that my harsh response would be the end of things, but Fullman was nothing if not persistent, and he trotted along beside me, his short legs churning to keep up with my longer, smoother strides. Diante followed us at a much more stately pace, content to watch the other noble’s frantic machinations.
“Actually, there is another urgent matter I must discuss with you,” Fullman said.
I sighed, but I stopped and faced him. Otherwise, he would chatter at me all the way across the bridge. “What?”
“I’m wondering why you haven’t chosen Tolliver to compete in any of the Regalia events, especially the Tournament of Champions.”
Each kingdom sent a contingent of its best warriors, magiers, masters, and athletes to the Regalia. There were dozens and dozens of contests, everything from who was the strongest mutt to which magier could juggle the most balls of fire at one time to which cook master could bake the best cranberry-apple pie. Medals and money were awarded, but for many winners, the real prize was bragging rights for themselves and their respective kingdoms.
As queen, I had the final say on which Bellonans got to participate in the Regalia, including the Tournament of Champions, the most prestigious event, with a hefty prize of ten thousand gold crowns. Everything at Seven Spire was always a competition, but few items were as hotly contested as the Regalia slots, and the nobles had been showering me with flattery and fancy gifts for weeks, in hopes of swaying my opinion about who should enter what events. Fullman had been among the most persistent and annoying, especially when it came to trying to get his son Tolliver into the tournament.
Crush the King Page 5
