My gaze flicked to the empty vial sitting on the cart, the one that had been filled with crushed tearstone and amethyst-eye poison. Tearstone could absorb and reflect back magic, and I was betting that a certain dose of the poison could do the same thing. Maximus must add the powder to his foul cocktail in order to help him soak up and then wield as much power as possible.
I wondered if he could also sense magic like I could. If that was the case, then Maximus had probably felt the power in the wormroot poison coating Serilda’s arrow, which had let him blast the projectile to pieces. It was probably a good thing I hadn’t tried to dose Maximus with the vial of wormroot in my own pocket. Instead of killing him, I might have inadvertently made him stronger.
However, perhaps the most disgusting and disheartening thing was that Maximus had only consumed about a cup of blood. He could have easily siphoned off that much of the strix’s blood without killing the creature. But no, he had slaughtered the strix outright. Just because he could. Just because it amused him. Just because he wanted to show us all how cruel he truly was.
I wondered how many strixes died on a regular basis to satisfy the Mortan king’s lust for power. One a month? A week? Every single day? The potential numbers horrified and disgusted me. And were strixes the only creatures he slaughtered? Or did he somehow do the same to gargoyles, despite their stone skins? And what about caladriuses? They had even more magic than strixes and gargoyles. Then there was the biggest question of all.
Did he do it to people?
There had long been rumors of slavery, labor camps, and other horrors in Morta, and I couldn’t help but think that those atrocities were linked to Maximus’s monstrous appetite. No wonder Maeven was afraid of him. No wonder all the Mortans were afraid of him.
Even if Maximus didn’t kill people to take their magic, there was still a human cost to his cruelty. I looked at Leonidas, who was still standing beside the cart. His hands were clenched into tight fists, and he was staring at the cage that held Lyra as though he wanted to rush forward, free the bird, and run away with her. No doubt he did, knowing what a gruesome fate awaited her before the night was through.
No wonder the boy had tried to get Lyra to hop through the Cardea mirror. He had known that it was the only way to save her from this. At least at Seven Spire, she would have had a chance to escape, and even if she had been killed or captured, no one at my palace would have tried to drink her blood.
The dealer cleared his throat, finally breaking the horrified silence. “It’s time to place the prizes on the table for the final round.”
Driscol went first, and his prize turned out to be a gold chest filled with gold coins, all of which featured the Fortuna Mint’s coined-woman crest. “Ten thousand gold crowns,” he said in a subdued voice.
Extravagant, but not unique or surprising. A murmur rippled through the crowd that was equal parts appreciative and disappointed.
Zariza was next, and she unhooked the gold chain from around her neck and placed the gold ogre pendant with its emerald eyes and diamond and ruby teeth in the center of the table next to Driscol’s chest.
“It’s nothing much,” she declared. “Just a little bauble I had made for the Regalia.”
Laughter rang out, along with loud claps and whistles. The jewels alone in that little bauble were easily worth more than Driscol’s gold.
Now it was my turn, and I opened the blue velvet bag Paloma had given me, tipped the contents into my hand, and laid them out on the glossy wood. Zariza studied the items curiously, although Driscol’s face paled in recognition.
“A bronze pocket watch, a gold pendant, and a silver signet ring?” Maximus said, a sneer creeping into his voice. “I didn’t realize Bellona was so poor these days. You could have at least brought something with some jewels in it.”
Several agreeing murmurs sounded. I ignored them.
“Oh, it’s true that they don’t have nearly as much monetary worth as Driscol’s chest and Zariza’s bauble, but their sentimental value is priceless.” I paused a moment for dramatic effect and tapped my finger on the pocket watch. “This belonged to my tutor Ansel, who poisoned my father with wormroot. He was killed by a weather magier named Marisse outside Winterwind, my family’s estate. Marisse tried to kill me too, but I stabbed her to death with my father’s dagger.”
Surprised gasps rang out. I ignored them and kept going, gesturing at the gold-coin pendant. “This was hanging around the neck of Lena, a geldjager who died just last week.” I stared at Driscol. “Lena and her compatriots foolishly thought that they could come to my capital and threaten my people. They were wrong, and their bodies are currently hanging in a plaza across the river from Seven Spire.”
More surprised gasps sounded. I kept staring at Driscol, whose face got a little redder with each passing second. The scent of his anger grew in direct proportion to the mottled flush staining his cheeks.
Driscol opened his mouth and leaned forward as if to curse me, but Seraphine quickly, smoothly stepped up and laid her hand on his shoulder. For a moment, I thought he was going to shake her off, but she tightened her grip, digging her long white polished nails into his shoulder. Driscol slowly choked down his anger, clamped his lips shut, and leaned back in his chair. Seraphine loosened her grip and glided back into the ring of spectators around the table.
When I was sure that Driscol wasn’t going to interrupt me, I tapped my finger on the silver signet ring. “But out of all my little trinkets, this ring is my favorite because it belongs to one of the people responsible for the Seven Spire massacre. Now, that person isn’t dead yet, but if I have my way, she will be very, very soon, along with her family.”
I glanced at Maximus a moment, then pointedly fixed my gaze on Maeven. Not a flicker of emotion showed on her face at my accusation and threat, but I could smell her hot, peppery anger.
Maximus glanced over his shoulder at his half sister. Maeven’s face remained impassive, but her peppery anger quickly melted into coppery fear. Mercer and Nox sidled away from her, but Leonidas actually shifted closer to Maeven, as if he wanted to shield his mother from Maximus. Brave, stupid boy.
The king faced the table again. “I didn’t realize that Everleigh was going to tell us bedtime stories. How quaint.”
Laughter pealed out all around the ballroom, but I shrugged it off, along with his mocking words. “Not bedtime stories. More like lessons from the past—and promises of things to come.”
The king stared at me, and I looked right back at him. Just like his sister, Maximus didn’t show any visible emotion, but I could smell his anger and annoyance. He didn’t care for my theatrics, even though they were far less digusting than his own.
Maximus might have drunk the strix blood for its power, but he’d also done it to try to intimidate me. I needed to match his viciousness, lest everyone here think me weaker than him. I wasn’t going to slaughter an innocent creature, but I had no qualms about displaying the remains of my dead enemies. The trinkets and my so-called stories were yet another way to remind him and the other royals that they trifled with me—and Bellona—at their own peril.
The dealer cleared his throat again, interrupting the tense silence. “King Maximus,” he said in a low, deferential voice. “What are you offering as your prize?”
Instead of answering the question, Maximus picked up his gold goblet. He started to take a drink but then realized it was empty. He set it down and flapped his hand in a sharp, annoyed motion over at the cart where Lyra was still sitting in her cage.
The bastard wanted another bloody nightcap.
No one immediately moved to do his bidding, so Maximus turned around in his seat and glared at his entourage. That prompted Mercer and Nox to spring into action. Mercer stepped forward and plucked Maximus’s dagger off the table, while Nox headed toward Lyra’s cage.
Leonidas’s hands clenched into even tighter fists, and he moved forward as though he was going to step in between Nox and his beloved strix, but Maeven latche
d on to her son’s shoulder again, holding him in place.
Leonidas stared at his mother, a silent plea in his eyes, but Maeven didn’t do or say anything. After a few seconds, the boy’s head dropped, and his shoulders slumped in defeat.
Lyra must have sensed his anguish, because she let out a couple of low, sad notes. Perhaps it was my imagination, but it almost sounded like she sang the word goodbye. The mournful cries, along with the overpowering scents of her dusty resignation and Leonidas’s ashy heartbreak, stabbed into my heart like three separate swords, cutting me to pieces.
But what could I do? How could I stop Maximus from killing the strix? I looked at the king, then at Leonidas, then at Lyra in her cage. No answers there, so I dropped my gaze to the gaming table. Driscol’s chest of gold, Zariza’s ogre pendant, and my trinkets gleamed in the center of the wood, and the answer suddenly came to me.
“Why not put up the strix as your prize?”
At the sound of my voice, everyone looked at me, including Maximus, who swiveled back around in his seat to face me again. His golden eyebrows creased together, as if he were truly surprised by my suggestion.
“The strix is not available,” he said.
“Why not? It belongs to you, doesn’t it? Can’t you do whatever you like with it?” I gestured at his empty goblet. “That’s certainly the impression you gave earlier.”
My voice took on a loud, sneering note, and a few snickers sounded. Maximus’s eyes narrowed, and once again he practically smoldered with anger. He didn’t like being mocked.
“Besides, I’ve always wanted my very own strix,” I continued in a lighter voice, as though the creature’s fate didn’t matter to me at all. “I always thought they were so much more interesting than ponies, and now I finally have a chance to win one. Surely you wouldn’t deny me that childhood dream?”
I gestured at the other items on the table. “Especially when you have an opportunity to win so much more in return.”
He stared at me, speculation filling his face. Maximus was wondering if I really wanted the creature or if I’d figured out his dirty little secret, that he planned to drink the strix’s blood to absorb its magic. No, the creature might not have as much monetary value as Driscol’s gold or Zariza’s bauble, but it was priceless to Maximus, the same way my trinkets were priceless to me. The Mortan king didn’t want to risk giving up a single drop of the strix’s blood and the power that it contained.
“How much is a strix worth?” I asked, further goading him. “I’ll happily put up the cost—in gold. We’ll think of it as a bonus prize for the winner.”
Some low whistles sounded, along with several appreciative claps. It was a more than generous offer, and one that Maximus couldn’t turn down without arousing suspicion about what was so special about this particular strix. But he still tried to weasel out of the corner that I’d just twirled him into.
“You couldn’t handle a strix, Everleigh,” he said. “They’re quite vicious unless properly trained.”
I gave him a thin smile. “Anything can be vicious when it’s stuffed in a cage. I’ll manage. Now, name your price.”
“Yes, Maximus,” Zariza chimed in. “Do tell us what this strix is worth to you.”
He shot her a sour look, but he had run out of excuses. “Ten thousand gold crowns.”
It was a small fortune and far more than what the strix was actually worth, if you could ever truly put a price on a creature’s life.
I leaned back in my seat and gave an airy, dismissive wave of my hand. “Done.”
Maximus’s eyes narrowed again. “You have ten thousand gold crowns? You, personally? We don’t gamble with our kingdom’s coffers here, Everleigh. And if you don’t have the money to pay for the strix, then it can’t be used as a prize.”
Ah, so that was his scheme. But it wasn’t going to work.
“Oh, yes,” I purred. “I have ten thousand gold crowns.”
“How did you get your hands on so much money?” Driscol asked, an incredulous note in his voice.
“Haven’t you heard? I won a black-ring gladiator match several months ago. I made sure that the purse was quite generous before I stepped one foot into the arena.”
I glanced over and winked at Serilda. The troupe leader rolled her eyes, but she grinned back at me.
“Of course, I don’t have the money with me at this very moment, but I’m sure the Fortuna Mint can extend me a line of credit.”
Driscol looked at Maximus, who drew his index finger in a short line across the table. No. Driscol glanced over at Seraphine. After a moment, she nodded. Yes.
Driscol was clearly caught between the king and his sister—a very uncomfortable place to be. He dropped his gaze to the table again, as if staring at the gold crowns and silver swords in the wood would somehow get him out of this dilemma. Then he sighed and slowly lifted his head.
“The Mint will be happy to extend Queen Everleigh a line of credit,” he mumbled.
His decision surprised me. He was so obviously, deeply in Maximus’s pocket that I’d expected him to refuse and for us to continue our verbal duel. So had Maximus, given the harsh, angry glare he shot at Driscol, who slumped in his chair. Maximus also glared at Seraphine, but she remained as calm and cool as ever.
Fortuna favors her ladies. The female assassin had said that on the plaza earlier, and I was beginning to think that her words had far more meaning than I’d realized—and that there was much more to Seraphine than just a bland smile and a pretty face.
But I pushed her out of my mind and looked at the Mortan king again. “Excellent! Now that the stakes are set, let’s play.”
Maximus glowered at me, and I gave him another thin smile in return. We both knew that the game between us had only just begun.
Chapter Sixteen
Another expectant hush fell over the ballroom, and everyone leaned forward to watch this last game of the night. The dealer shuffled the deck and passed out the cards, which landed with raspy whispers against the gleaming wood.
Maximus leaned forward and picked up his cards. I hadn’t played kronekling with him before, so I studied him carefully. The king had gotten his anger and annoyance under control, and no obvious emotion marred his features, but I could smell his sudden eagerness. He had a good hand.
I picked up my own cards, careful not to show any emotion either. My hand was okay, but it wasn’t strong enough to bid on the armory, so I decided to play for points instead. Like most things, kronekling was a long game, and I was determined to win.
Maximus easily won that first hand, while Zariza took the second, and I won the third. Driscol didn’t win any hands, but then again, he wasn’t trying to. Instead, he played as if he didn’t know the rules, foolishly giving away card after card and point after point, all to benefit Maximus.
Driscol was clearly trying to make sure Maximus won and kept his precious strix. He probably thought it was the only way he could salvage whatever deal he’d made with the Mortan king. He might as well have just handed his cards to Maximus and let the king play them as his own. That’s how badly and obviously Driscol was losing.
Zariza didn’t like Driscol throwing the game either, and she glared at him.
“Are you really that bloody stupid?” she snarled at one point, when Driscol started to play a ten of coins on Maximus’s king, instead of a lower-point card.
Driscol froze, his hand still on his card. He looked at the glaring ogre face on her neck, then slowly slid the card across the table and back into his hand. He hesitated, then laid down an eight of coins, giving Maximus two fewer points.
Zariza rolled her eyes. “Idiot.”
People snickered. Driscol’s face turned an interesting shade of red, but after that, he tried to be a little less obvious in his cheating.
It all came down to the seventh and final hand. Maximus, Zariza, and I had all won two hands each. Maximus had the most points, while I was in second. Zariza was still within striking distance in third, while
Driscol was a distant, dismal fourth.
The cards were dealt. I wound up with a fairly even mix of suits and point values, along with the silberkling, the silver sword and second-highest trump. A decent hand, but not good enough to win outright, so I waited to see what the others would do.
Driscol passed on bidding, like always, but Zariza was very aggressive, and she and Maximus got into a bidding war for the armory. Maximus finally prevailed, but he had to bid an outrageous amount, and he would have to take back practically every single card in order to win. But if he did that, his point total would easily outstrip mine, and he would win the tournament, along with all the prizes, including Lyra, who was still sitting in her cage.
Maximus rifled through the armory, picking up a couple of cards and putting others back down. He once again smelled of eagerness, indicating that he had a good hand. “Trumps are swords.”
I had to work very hard to hide my surprise. I’d expected him to pick another suit, but I had four regular sword cards, which meant that I probably had just as many trumps as he did, although mine were mostly low cards. But I did have one high card—the silberkling—and I suddenly saw a way I could use that one single card to win everything.
Maximus played his opening card, the geldkrone. I gave him my lowest trump, as did Zariza. Driscol, of course, gave him a ten. Idiot.
Around and around the table we went, with Maximus playing his trump cards, and trying to force either Zariza or me to throw down the silberkling, since Driscol would have foolishly given it away already. Maximus must have thought that once the silberkling was gone, the rest of his cards were good enough to win all the other rounds. The common strategy probably would have worked if I hadn’t had just as many trumps as he did.
Zariza and Driscol both quickly ran out of trumps, and Maximus realized that I had the silberkling. So he changed his strategy and laid down a queen of crowns, trying to tempt me into trumping it and taking the points, but I had another plan, and I laid down a joker, a throwaway card. Zariza put down a king of crowns, winning that round and stealing those precious points away from Maximus.
Crush the King Page 22
