Crush the King

by Estep, Jennifer

  I was exactly that stupid. More than that, I wanted to do it. Not just to save the creatures from a pointless, gruesome death, but also to hurt the king. Sometimes a small slice in the arena could sting much more than a deeper wound, and I wanted Maximus to feel as much pain as he had inflicted on me over the past year.

  One by one, I wrapped my hand around the padlocks and snuffed out the magic on them. Serilda came along behind me, undoing the clasps, yanking off the locks, and opening the doors.

  It didn’t take me long to extinguish the magic on the last lock, but we had another, unexpected problem—the strixes weren’t moving.

  “Why aren’t they flying away?” Serilda muttered. “Don’t they realize that we’re trying to save them?”

  I remembered how the first, doomed strix had stared resolutely at Maximus during the ball. It had known that it couldn’t escape, so it hadn’t even attempted to fight back or fly away. Maximus had broken its spirit, and it had given up all hope of avoiding its bloody, brutal fate. These creatures all had that same dull, lethargic look, and they all smelled of dusty resignation, even now, with their cage doors standing wide open.

  I bent down and waved my hand at the strix inside the closest cage. “Come on,” I cooed in a gentle voice. “We’re not going to hurt you. We want you to fly away and be free.”

  The strix kept staring at me with dull, blank eyes, and it didn’t even twitch its feathers at the sound of my voice. Well, if it wouldn’t come out on its own, I would have to reach inside and get it. The creature would probably stab me with its beak, but I had to try. So I pushed my sleeve up higher and started to reach inside—

  Caw! Caw-caw-caw! Caw!

  Serilda and I both whirled around. At first I thought one of the adult strixes had realized what we were doing and was crying out a warning, but then I noticed that the caws were coming from a nearby tree branch—and that Lyra was making the noise.

  “She was supposed to stay in her tent!” Serilda hissed.

  Apparently the strix had had other ideas. Then again, Leonidas had said she would listen only to him.

  Lyra leaped off the tree branch and landed right in front of the cages. She spread her wings out wide and cawed at the other strixes again.

  “Leave! Fly! Now!” Perhaps it was my imagination, but I thought I heard the sharp snap of commands in her singsong voice.

  Her loud caws finally roused the other creatures out of their dull, resigned state, and they quirked their heads from side to side, staring at Lyra. I wondered if the strixes knew each other the way that people did. Grimley and the other gargoyles at Glitnir had recognized each other, and I was betting the strixes did too.

  Either way, Lyra’s appearance perked up the other strixes, and they began ruffling their wings, as though they were about to take flight. I started to reach forward and rattle the cage in front of me to further encourage them when another, smaller flutter of movement caught my eye. I looked to the right. I hadn’t noticed it before, but a final cage was sitting off to the side all by itself, almost buried in the tall grass.

  I squinted into the sun. This cage was smaller than the ones that housed the strixes, and the creature inside seemed smaller too, with feathers that were white instead of purple—

  My breath caught in my throat. It was a caladrius.

  I had wondered if Maximus killed other creatures for their magic, and now I knew that the answer was a sick, resounding yes. Even worse was the fact that the caladrius absolutely reeked of magic, more than the strixes did. The tiny, owlish bird had more raw power than all the other creatures combined, and I couldn’t help but think that Maximus had brought it here to use for something special.

  Like murdering me and my friends.

  The Mortan king had already tried to have me assassinated during the Regalia, and the caladrius must be his backup plan, his final secret weapon if all his other plots and schemes failed. I thought back to the opening ceremonies when Maximus and his guards had flown their strixes into the arena. Maximus had said that they had ridden the creatures all the way from the Mortan capital, which meant they could easily ride them from here all the way to Svalin.

  I had already been worried about Maximus invading Bellona, and I had left Halvar and Bjarni behind at Seven Spire to hold the palace until I returned. With the caladrius’s magic, Maximus could kill me and my friends, destroy our encampment, and fly to my capital. Halvar, Bjarni, and the palace guards would put up a fierce fight, but they wouldn’t be able to counter the king’s magic, and Maximus would eventually take the palace—and the rest of Bellona along with it.

  I wasn’t a time magier like Serilda, so I never got glimpses of the future, but I could see it all unspooling clearly in my mind, as if I were watching images from a memory stone. Right now I knew that the fate of my whole kingdom hinged on freeing this one small creature from Maximus’s clutches.

  “Keep trying to get the strixes out of their cages,” I said.

  “Evie!” Serilda hissed. “What are you doing?”

  I ignored her, ran over to the final cage, and crouched down. The caladrius was tiny, smaller than my palm, and its feathers were completely white, without any ribbons of gray, indicating that it was little more than a baby. Its eyes were light gray too, without any hint of blue that older birds had.

  “Hey, there, little fella,” I said, cooing to the caladrius the same way I had to the strixes. “Let’s get you out of that nasty cage.”

  I reached out and grabbed the padlock. The second my fingers touched the metal, I wished they hadn’t.

  Maximus had put more magic on this one lock than on all the strix cages combined, and purple lightning exploded around the metal, along with a flurry of hailstones. The cold blast tried to freeze my skin, while the sharp, hard pellets blasted against my palm, and I had to choke down a surprised shriek.

  But I wasn’t leaving the creature behind, so I gritted my teeth, wrapped both hands around the padlock, and poured my immunity into it. A few seconds and several violent, chilly shocks later, the lightning sizzled out in a shower of sparks, and the last of the serrated hailstones dropped to the ground.

  I unclenched my teeth, raised a shaking hand, and wiped the sweat off my forehead. Then I leaned forward, opened the lock, and tossed it into the grass before yanking open the door on the front of the cage.

  “Come on,” I cooed again. “You’re free.”

  To my surprise, the caladrius immediately hopped forward to the edge of the cage, perhaps because it was a baby and hadn’t been held captive as long as the strixes had. I cautiously held my hand out, trying to show that I wasn’t going to hurt it. The caladrius studied my fingers for a moment, then bent down and rubbed its tiny head against my hand just like a cat would.

  “That’s a good boy.” I don’t know why, but for some reason I thought it was a male, although I couldn’t tell for sure.

  The caladrius rubbed its head against my hand again, then straightened up and hopped out of its cage. The second it was clear of the metal bars, it spread its small wings as wide as they would go and took flight. The caladrius wobbled a bit, as though it wasn’t used to flying, but the bird made it to the trees and disappeared into the thick tangle of branches.

  I sighed with relief. The caladrius was gone, as was the threat it represented. Maximus could have more of the creatures hidden somewhere else in camp, but at least I’d gotten rid of this obvious, immediate danger—

  “Oh, fuck this,” Serilda growled.

  I surged to my feet and whirled around just in time to see my friend lift her hammer and bang it against the side of one of the cages.

  “Leave! Fly! Now! Before it’s too late!” she yelled.

  The banging hammer finally startled that strix and all the others out of the last of their dull lethargy. With a series of loud caw-caw-caws, the creatures hopped out of their cages and took flight in an explosion of sound and feathers that made Serilda duck. A strix zoomed by me, and I ducked too.

  The cr
eatures soared up into the bright blue sky. Lyra let out another fierce caw, lifted her wings, and flew up to join them. I watched them go with a smile on my face. The strixes’ wild cries faded away, but they were replaced by other, far more worrisome sounds.

  “Hey! The strixes are free!”

  “We need to catch them!”

  “Hurry! Hurry! Hurry!”

  More and more shouts rose up, and I whirled around. In the distance I could see guards running through the maze of tents, heading this way. Those men were all shouting and stabbing their fingers and weapons up into the air, but the second they spotted the two unconscious guards, they would realize we were here. We needed to be out of camp before that happened, or we would never leave Morta alive.

  Serilda shoved the hammer back into her knapsack and drew her purple cloak around her shoulders again. She also pulled the hood up over her blond hair, quickly morphing back into just another Mortan spectator. I did the same with my own cloak.

  “Evie!” Serilda hissed again, heading back toward the tents. “Move! Now!”

  I watched the strixes fly away for another moment, then hurried after her.

  Chapter Twenty

  Serilda and I abandoned all pretense of stealth and ran through the Mortan camp as fast as we could.

  We hadn’t seen many guards on our way in, but now they were everywhere. Running, shouting, brandishing their weapons. Most of them were focused on getting to the strix cages, so they didn’t pay any attention to us.

  Most, but not all.

  Serilda and I darted down an aisle and ran straight into two guards heading the opposite direction.

  “Hey! You’re not supposed to be here!” one of the men yelled, and reached for his sword.

  Serilda stepped up and coolly punched that guard in the face, knocking him unconscious, while I darted forward and slammed my sword hilt into the other man’s temple, dropping him as well. The second the guards were down, we jumped over their prone forms and hurried on.

  Luckily, we didn’t run into any more guards, and we broke free of the tents and made it back to the grassy clearing at the front of the ridge. More guards, merchants, and servants were yelling and running around here, but no one seemed to realize what was going on. Serilda and I sheathed our weapons and used the cover of the chaos to sprint down the steps to the waterfront, cross the plaza, and head toward the bridge.

  I thought we might run into trouble trying to get onto the Mortan bridge, but all the guards stationed down here had gone up to the campsite, instead of cutting off the bridge as a potential escape route. Serilda and I slowed down to a quick walk, trying to blend in with the other people crossing the span.

  “Don’t look back,” she muttered. “Only guilty people look back.”

  I did as she commanded, although my shoulders were tense and I expected a blade to punch into my back at any moment.

  It seemed to take forever to cross the bridge, although it couldn’t have been more than a couple of minutes. We walked by the two guards we had passed earlier. Both men were shading their eyes with their hands and peering up into the sky, as though they were trying to see where the strixes had gone. Serilda and I bowed our heads and scurried by them without stopping.

  The second we were back on the island and out of sight of the bridge, Serilda ducked behind a merchant’s cart, ripped off her purple cloak, and stuffed it into her black knapsack. I did the same, and my cloak disappeared into the bag too.

  “Hurry, hurry!” Serilda whispered as she slung the knapsack over her shoulder. “We have to get back to the arena. We’ve already been gone too long.”

  The two of us raced up the hillside steps as fast as we could, but it was still slow going, given the crowds. Several minutes later, we finally reached the plaza, threaded our way through the throngs of people, and ducked into the same shadowy archway as before.

  Cho was pacing back and forth in the small opening, and he looked up at the sound of our quick footsteps. He rushed over to us, took the black knapsack from Serilda, and slung it over his own shoulder.

  “What did we miss?” Serilda asked.

  She wasn’t even winded, but I was sweating, sucking down breath after breath, and trying to ignore the throbbing stitch in my side and burning ache in my legs from running up so many bloody steps.

  “Most of the tournament,” Cho replied. “The final bout is set to start in less than an hour.”

  “Please . . . tell me that . . . Paloma . . . is in . . . the final,” I rasped between gulps of air.

  Cho grinned. “She easily advanced. She did everyone at the Black Swan proud.” His grin faded. “Paloma is fighting Mercer.”

  Serilda let out a soft muttered curse.

  “What’s . . . wrong . . . with that?” I rasped again. “Paloma . . . can beat him . . . just like . . . she beats . . . everyone else.”

  Cho shook his head. “Mercer has a nasty habit of severely wounding his opponents, even if the match is only to first blood. You saw what he did to that Floresian this morning. During the last Regalia, Mercer almost killed the other gladiator he was fighting for the title, even though that man was also a Mortan.”

  The scent of his worry washed over me, but Cho shook his head again, as if pushing the emotion aside.

  “I’ll watch out for Paloma as best I can,” he said. “You two need to get back up to the royal terrace before the final bout. If you don’t, Maximus will be even more suspicious than he probably already is.”

  Cho hoisted the knapsack a little higher on his shoulder and headed into the arena. Serilda and I left the archway and stepped out onto the plaza. By this point, I had gotten my breath back, although I wasn’t looking forward to climbing up the bleacher steps to the royal terrace. I started to head in that direction, but Serilda held out her arm, stopping me.

  “Wait,” she said. “We need something to explain why we’ve been gone so long. This way.”

  She dragged me over to one of the merchant carts and bought several bags of cornucopia. She shoved the bags at me and went over to another cart, this time buying some cinnamon candy apples. Then she changed direction, heading toward a cart that sold winter hats, gloves, and scarves. And then she went to another cart, and then another one.

  By the time Serilda finished, several bags bulging with sweet, savory, and fried treats filled my hands, blue crystal pins were stuck in my hair, and a dark blue wool scarf with the word Bellona flowing down it in silver thread was wrapped around my neck.

  Despite our rush, I enjoyed seeing all the handcrafted items and the pride shining in the merchants’ faces as they showed off their goods. It was definitely the most fun I’d had at the Regalia so far. I would have loved to stay longer and chat with folks about what inspired them to create their crafts, but Serilda led me back into the arena.

  My stomach rumbled, reminding me that it had been hours since breakfast, so I dug my hand into one of the bags, grabbed a couple of clusters of cornucopia, and stuffed them into my mouth.

  Rich, buttery popped corn. Dried bits of bloodcrisp apples. Toasted slivers of almonds. Crunchy sunflower seeds. All of it brought together by drizzles of dark chocolate and sticky-sweet salted caramel. I quickly polished off that bag and dug into another one.

  “I like this idea,” I mumbled, trying to walk, talk, and chew at the same time.

  “I bought the food and everything else to explain why we were gone so long, not for you to actually eat it,” Serilda replied in a snide voice.

  “Well, I do need to keep up appearances. Besides, who buys cornucopia and doesn’t eat it?” I grinned and popped another cluster into my mouth.

  Serilda rolled her eyes, but she dug her hand into her own bag of cornucopia and started eating the clusters of popped corn, dried fruit, and toasted nuts and seeds.

  While we munched on our treats, we made our way up the bleacher steps and back to the royal terrace.

  I wasn’t the only one who had left to roam around and sample the best of what the Regalia
had to offer. Eon and Ruri were both sipping dark ales, while Cisco was eating fried fruit pies topped with vanilla-bean whipped cream and Heinrich was munching on a bag of cornucopia.

  Zariza was examining a box of chocolates, and she studied the entire assortment before finally selecting one and popping it into her mouth. The ogre face on her neck chomped along with her, although its fierce features quickly crinkled with comical disgust. She must have picked a chocolate that her inner ogre didn’t like. A moment later, Zariza’s face crinkled as well. She didn’t like that flavor either.

  Maximus was lounging in his chair, sipping a glass of champagne, and it didn’t look like he had moved the entire time I’d been gone. Nox was sitting next to him, also sipping champagne, but Maeven was once again standing near the back of the terrace, closer to the servants than her royal relatives.

  Maximus didn’t deign to look at me. Neither did Nox, but Maeven stared at me. I mockingly tipped my head to her, then headed over to where Sullivan was standing with Dominic.

  Sullivan broke away from his brother and met me halfway. He smiled, reached out, and waggled the end of my scarf. “Looks like you had fun shopping on the plaza.”

  “Oh, I could have stayed down there for hours,” I replied. “But I wanted to come back and see Paloma win.”

  A few people had sidled forward to hear our conversation, but apparently the idea that I’d just been shopping bored them, and they sidled away and returned to their previous gossip.

  Sullivan dropped the end of my scarf. “How did it go?” he asked in a low voice only I could hear.

  “Leonidas was right. Maximus had more than a dozen strixes that he was planning to slaughter.”

  Leonidas was slumped in the same seat as before and staring fixedly at the table, as if he were a statue frozen in place. Auster was a few feet away, keeping an eye on the boy while he talked with Xenia.