Crush the King
Page 17
It was probably something far worse than a quick death, though.
I drew in a breath, and several other familiar scents filled my nose. Cold, clean vanilla with a hint of spice. Peony perfume and wet fur. Blood mixed with coldiron. My friends were here.
I was lying in my bed against one wall of the tent, so I sat up, pushing aside the blankets. Sullivan, Paloma, Serilda, Cho, and Captain Auster were standing by the entrance, talking in low voices to a woman with short black hair, hazel eyes, and ebony skin. Aisha, the bone master. The scent of their collective worry filled the tent, as sharp as knives stabbing into my nose. They probably thought that I’d been dying, instead of just being paralyzed.
They didn’t realize that I was sitting up, and I was so tired that I didn’t feel like getting to my feet, so I cleared my throat. They all whipped around.
“Highness!” Sullivan rushed over and dropped to a knee beside me. “You’re awake!”
“Of course I’m awake.” My tongue still felt heavy and numb, so my words slurred a bit. “Why wouldn’t I be awake?”
Aisha also hurried over, bent down, and peered at me, a worried look on her pretty face. “We weren’t sure if you were ever going to wake up. I healed the cut and did my best to cleanse the poison from your system, but you were so stiff and pale, and your lips were so blue . . .” Her voice trailed off, and more worry blasted off her, drowning out her clean, lemony scent.
“It’s okay, Aisha.” I smiled. “You did your job, and I’m much better now. See?”
I tried to get up, but my legs buckled, and I would have fallen, if Sullivan hadn’t reached out and steadied me.
“Take it easy, Evie,” he murmured, helping me sit down. “Just take it easy.”
He only called me Evie when he was truly, deeply concerned, and his hands tightened on my arms as if he wanted to pull me close and never let me go.
After a moment, Sullivan cleared his throat, dropped his hands from my arms, and went back down on his knee beside me. His blue eyes searched mine, and I reached up and cupped his face, stroking my thumb over the prickly stubble that darkened his jaw.
“I’m fine,” I whispered. “Truly.”
He smiled, but worry still sparked in his gaze like a wildfire that refused to be extinguished.
Aisha took hold of my wrist and checked my pulse before peering at my face. “Amazing,” she murmured. “Ten minutes ago your lips were as blue as sapphires, but now they’re back to their normal color. The poison, whatever it was, seems to be completely gone from your body. I didn’t think that I was going to be able to heal it, to heal you.”
She shook her head. “The assassin must not have used the proper dosage.”
Sullivan, Paloma, Serilda, Cho, and Auster didn’t say anything. They knew that my immunity was what had truly saved me. Aisha didn’t know about my power, although she might guess after this episode.
“Or perhaps your healing magic was stronger than the poison,” I lied in a light, unconcerned voice. “Either way, I owe you my life. Thank you, Aisha.”
She bowed her head. “It’s my job, my queen.”
“And you do it very well, especially considering how difficult I so often make it.”
Aisha politely laughed at my joke, but I could almost see the questions spinning around in her mind as she tried to figure out how I had really recovered. She promised to check on me later, then left the tent.
As soon as she was gone, Paloma dropped her hand to the mace on her belt. “We should forget about our other plans, sneak into the Mortan camp tonight, and bash in Maximus’s head,” she growled. “Maeven’s too, and whomever else we can find.”
“I agree with your sentiment, but that would be foolish,” Auster rumbled in a far more reasonable tone. “There’s no way we could sneak a large force into the Mortan camp, much less get close enough to Maximus to kill him. The Mortans are sure to be on high alert now after our earlier attempt in the arena.”
His voice was calm and even, without a hint of accuasation, but everyone looked at Serilda. The scents of her peppery anger and minty regret burned my nose and matched my own emotions.
Serilda stepped forward and dropped into a traditional Bellonan curtsy in front of me. “I’m sorry, my queen,” she said in a low, strained voice. “I don’t know what happened. I coated the arrow with wormroot and aimed it at Maximus’s throat in case he was wearing any armor under his clothes. All the arrow had to do was scratch him, and the poison would have killed him.”
I still wasn’t sure how Maximus had sensed the arrow streaking toward him, given all the people and chaos in the arena, but Serilda had done everything I had asked, and I reached out and squeezed her hand. “It’s not your fault. Perhaps it’s mine for not coming up with a better plan. I thought we could beat the Mortans at their own game and take Maximus by surprise by attacking right away, but I was wrong.”
Serilda squeezed my hand back, then rose to her feet. “It was a good plan. It almost worked.”
Unfortunately for me, almost wasn’t good enough when it came to the Mortan king.
“So what do we do now? Even if we did somehow get close enough to attack with our weapons, Maximus could always kill us with his weather magic,” Cho pointed out. “He could easily bludgeon us with his hailstones the same way he did that arrow. Or freeze us to death with his cold lightning.”
We all fell silent, contemplating those horrible possibilities. I leaned back against the pillows, trying to ignore how tired I still felt.
“Maximus isn’t the only one we need to worry about,” I said. “We need to be careful of Driscol too.”
“Why?” Paloma asked. “Driscol is just Maximus’s lackey. We all saw the two of them whispering on the terrace. We all know that Driscol is working for the Mortans instead of being neutral like he’s supposed to be.”
“I agree that Maximus probably told Driscol to send those assassins to kill Serilda in the plaza.”
“But?” Serilda asked.
“But just because Driscol is working for Maximus doesn’t mean that he’s not playing his own game and furthering his own agenda,” I said.
“What do you mean?” Cho asked.
“Maximus might have wanted those assassins to kill Serilda, but I don’t think that’s what Driscol ordered them to do. At least, not the last woman, the one who cut me. I think she was trying to capture me, just like the geldjagers tried to in Svalin.”
Auster frowned. “Why would you think that?”
I gestured at my healed arm. “Because she used blue sperren. If she had truly wanted to kill me, then her dagger would have been coated with wormroot or amethyst-eye or another deadly poison, like some of the other assassins’ blades were. Blue sperren can be fatal, but more often than not it just paralyzes people until you give them the antidote.”
“Blue sperren,” Sullivan muttered. “Of course. Helene told me about it once. I should have recognized it as soon as your lips turned blue.”
Helene Blume was a childhood friend of Sullivan’s and a powerful plant magier, so it made sense that she had encountered blue sperren.
Serilda’s eyes darkened, and the scent of her magic gusted around her. “Evie’s right,” she murmured. “I don’t think that last assassin wanted to kill you. Not unless you gave her no other choice. Otherwise, she would have rushed at you sooner and tried harder to immediately cut you down. But what was Driscol planning to do with you?”
“Ransom?” Auster suggested. “Maybe he wanted to trade Evie for a quick payday. Maybe he got greedy and thought his men could kill Serilda and kidnap Evie at the same time.”
“The DiLucris already have plenty of gold,” Paloma pointed out. “Their whole bloody Mint is covered with coins.”
“Maybe they wanted to sicken Evie so we would turn to them for help,” Serilda suggested. “Maybe they thought we would be stupid enough to let her out of our sight. Maybe they hoped to steal her away in the confusion. Or maybe Driscol thought Maximus would give him an even
greater reward if he brought her to the king alive. The possibilities are endless.”
“Endless, maybe, but they all end pretty badly for me,” I muttered.
“I can make Driscol talk,” Sullivan snarled, blue lightning crackling around his clenched fists. “Get him to confess his scheme.”
“It wouldn’t do any good,” I replied. “Fortuna is like a kingdom unto itself, and the DiLucris are well protected on their island. Besides, they’ll be expecting us to retaliate, and Driscol will be even more well guarded now. We can’t afford to go to war with both the DiLucris and the Mortans at the same time, especially not this far from home. No, we stick to our original plan of trying to kill Maximus. He’s still the biggest threat to us, to Bellona. He might have escaped our first trap, but we can set another one for him.”
My friends fell silent, but the scent of their collective dusty resignation slowly filled the tent. They knew that we couldn’t strike back at the DiLucris. Not without making the situation even more dangerous.
“Well, Driscol and Maximus and whatever they’re plotting are problems for tomorrow,” Auster said. “I need to send a messenger over to the island to tell the other royals that you’re too ill to attend the ball.”
“Oh, I’m still going to the ball.”
Paloma, Sullivan, Cho, and Auster looked at me with surprise, but Serilda nodded, a thoughtful expression on her face. Her magic must have already told her that I still planned to attend. Well, that and the fact she knew how stubborn I was.
Sullivan surged to his feet and threw his hand out, gesturing at the bed I was still sitting on. “Twenty minutes ago, you were unconscious. You should forget about the ball, stay here, and rest.”
“Believe me, I would much rather spend the evening in bed, but I have to attend the ball, and I have to participate in the kronekling tournament. If I don’t go, then everyone will realize just how close that last assassin came to killing, kidnapping, or whatever she was trying to do to me.”
No one responded, but once again the collective scent of their worry filled the air.
“I need to show Maximus, Driscol, and everyone else that I’m fine, and that it takes more than a fight with a few assassins to hurt me. I can’t show any sign of weakness. Otherwise, Maximus and Driscol will just keep sending assassins until one of them gets lucky and finally kills me. We need to make the bastards think twice about coming after me again. We need to make them hesitate. That’s the only way we’re going to get an advantage over them.”
Sullivan’s lips pressed together into a tight, unhappy line, but he didn’t argue. Neither did Paloma, Serilda, Cho, or Auster. They all knew how important this was.
“I’m going to the ball,” I repeated. “So go get Calandre so she can help me get ready.”
Chapter Thirteen
Calandre didn’t like the thought of my going to the ball either, but she and her sisters prepared me for the evening.
The thread master outfitted me in a beautiful gown made of light gray silk. The dress had a boat neck and sleeves that stopped at my elbows to show off the silver bracelets—gauntlets—on my wrists. Two large crisscrossed swords done in bright silver thread glittered in the center of the bodice, while the same sword pattern circled the small band around my waist before spreading down and covering the long, full skirt. The sword pattern could also be seen in sparkling silver thread on the closed toes of my gray sandals.
“I modeled the swords on your dress after the ones on the Seven Spire columns,” Calandre said in a proud voice. “I wanted you to take some of our gladiator tradition with you to the ball.”
I smoothed my hands down the skirt. “It’s beautiful.”
Calandre beamed at me, then stepped back so her sisters could do their part. Cerana curled my black hair into loose, pretty waves, while Camille covered my eyes with shimmering silver powder and liner and added some deep plum-colored berry balm to my lips.
Once they finished, I studied my reflection in the mirror over the vanity table. Cerana and Camille had done a masterful job, and not a trace of paleness remained in my face from the blood loss or the poison. Perhaps knowing that I looked better made me feel better as well, because the last dregs of my lethargy finally, fully vanished.
I thanked Calandre and her sisters, then shooed them out of the tent. When I was sure they were gone, I went over to a wooden jewelry box sitting on one of the tables. I opened the top and pressed on a button hidden inside the purple velvet lining. A secret drawer popped out of the bottom of the box, revealing a small glass vial. I held the vial up to the light, studying the clear liquid inside.
Wormroot.
Sullivan had distilled the poison before we’d left Seven Spire, and I had tucked it away in this jewelry box, which had belonged to Maeven. It had seemed like an appropriate hiding spot, given that she had used the same poison to murder the Blairs.
Auster was right. As a group, we couldn’t get close enough to cut down Maximus with our weapons, but perhaps I, as the queen, could do the deed on the sly. I would much rather risk myself than my friends again, which was why I wasn’t going to tell them that I was carrying the wormroot. Perhaps an opportunity would present itself for me to poison the king during the ball. My fingers curled around the vial. I hoped so.
I slipped the poison into my dress pocket, then stepped outside where my friends were waiting.
Sullivan was sporting dark gray leggings and boots, along with one of Calandre’s designs—a short, formal light gray jacket with silver buttons that featured the same sword pattern as my dress. An actual sword dangled from his belt, along with a dagger.
Paloma was wearing a dark green tunic with gold thread stitched in a jagged zigzag pattern that looked like teeth circling her neck and eating down her sleeves. Her blond hair was done up in a lovely crown braid, while golden shadow and liner brought out her amber eyes. Her mace dangled off her belt like usual.
Serilda was dressed in a white tunic with a black swan stretching across her chest, along with white leggings and black knee-high boots. Her blond hair was slicked back from her face, and black shadow ringed her blue eyes. She too was wearing her usual sword and dagger on her belt.
Cho had changed into a fresh ringmaster’s uniform of a red jacket over a ruffled white shirt. He didn’t have a weapon, but he didn’t need one. As a dragon morph, he could easily shift into his other, larger, stronger form and be more than a match for any enemy.
Captain Auster was sporting a sword, along with a light gray jacket that featured my crown-of-shards crest done in silver thread over his heart. Several guards also wearing gray jackets and swords waited in the distance.
Sullivan took my hand and pressed a kiss to my knuckles. “You look lovely, highness,” he whispered in a husky voice.
He straightened, and I smoothed my hands down the front of his jacket, feeling the heat of his body radiate out into mine. “You look pretty handsome yourself.”
I drew in a breath, letting his vanilla scent sink deep into my lungs. Sullivan grinned, his eyes as bright as blue stars.
Captain Auster cleared his throat. “Anytime you’re ready, my queen.”
I took Sullivan’s arm and headed toward the steps that led from our campsite down to the river. We quickly made our way across the plaza with its Seven Spire–shaped fountain and over to the Perseverance Bridge. I stopped and gestured at Auster, who strode forward.
“Keep half the guards here at this end of the bridge. When we get over to the island, post the remaining guards at that end of the bridge,” I said.
Auster frowned. “But I was going to send them all with you. To ensure your safety during the ball.”
I gave him a grim smile. “Nothing can ensure my safety. We could take a hundred guards, and the Mortans would still try to kill me. Besides, I can’t afford to appear scared, frightened, or worried. Not tonight when everyone will be watching. So no legion of guards.”
Auster didn’t like it, but he gave me a reluctant nod.
Auster nodded again. “As you wish, my queen.”
The captain ordered some of his men to take up their position here, while the rest of us stepped onto the bridge. Auster and the remaining guards followed us.
The sun was setting, and the golden rays had turned the tearstone expanse the same dazzling light gray as my dress, while the surface of the water gleamed like a bed of moving, sparkling sapphires. Farther out, the ships in the harbor bobbed up and down on the waves, and their colorful crested flags snapped to and fro in the cool, steady breeze.
Despite the lovely, picturesque scene, I couldn’t help but notice the shadows slowly creeping over everything. Or perhaps those were simply reflections of my own dark thoughts about the danger that waited for us on the island.
Still, it was a pleasant walk, and my friends chatted back and forth, telling me how the Bellonans had done in today’s Regalia events. My countrymen and -women had acquitted themselves quite nicely, winning and placing in several competitions for the cook, thread, plant, metalstone, and other masters. Nico, Diante’s grandson, had won the archery tournament, one of the day’s big events. I made a mental note to congratulate him and his grandmother the next time I saw them.
We were almost to the end of the bridge when I noticed a ship anchored all by itself near the middle of the harbor. It was a relatively small vessel, the kind I would expect to be much closer to shore, given the violent waves that sometimes rocked the water. Even stranger than its location was the fact that it wasn’t flying any flags, and no sailors were working on deck. It almost seemed like the ship was deserted, although someone would have had to sail it out to its current location. Maybe the crew and the passengers had gone over to the island to cap off the Regalia’s opening day by celebrating in the gaming and pleasure houses. Either way, the ship wasn’t a threat, since it was so far away from the bridge, so I put it out of my mind.