Kill the Queen (Crown of Shards #1)

by Jennifer Estep

  Plus, I enjoyed the money.

  I might have been the queen’s cousin, but I still had to pay for my modest room and board, and being the royal jeweler’s apprentice paid quite nicely. Plus, Alvis let me keep all the money I earned for any piece that I commissioned, made, and sold myself, minus supply costs. Thanks to Isobel’s influence and my own hard work, I had a good business going with the kitchen staff. Even some of the poorer, er, minor nobles had started to request pieces from me.

  Given my apprenticeship, I was well acquainted with frippery and frivolity, and I had seen more than one noble sent packing from the palace in disgrace after squandering his wealth. My finances were one of the few things that I could control, and I saved every penny I could, adding them to my accounts at the royal bank. My plan was to take all those pennies, return to my family’s estate, and restore it to its former glory, along with opening up my own small jewelry shop. I’d been saving for that goal for years, and I was almost ready to make it a reality.

  All I had to do was get the queen’s permission to leave, something that I had been trying to secure for the last three months. Even though I would turn twenty-eight later this year, she was still my official guardian. But of course the queen was busy, and I had yet to snag a spot on her schedule. Perhaps I could speak with her at the luncheon.

  I was hoping that Alvis and Isobel would come with me. Winterwind, my family’s estate, was only a few miles from Andvari and not that far from Unger. I wanted to take care of them like they had taken care of me, and it would be a fine place for them to live out their golden years. Besides, their constant sniping would help keep them both young and vigorous. It certainly had during the years they’d been at the palace.

  Alvis dropped the last few onyx slivers into place, then waved his hand over the brooch again. This time, the scent of his magic gusted through the workshop, much stronger than before, burning my nose with its sudden, sharp intensity.

  Most people—or at least their emotions—smelled like food. Peppery anger, vinegar tension, garlic guilt. But not Alvis. He smelled like metal, mixed with crushed stone and a strong tang of magic, as if he had worked with so much gold and silver that their essences had seeped into his skin.

  Alvis dropped his hand, and the scent of his magic vanished. I peered through the magnifying glass again. The final gold prongs curled into place, finishing the design, and the pink diamonds lit up one by one, each gem glowing much more brightly than it had before.

  Not only was Alvis a master who could bend and shape metal, but he could also infuse his magic into the stones. Most jewels could absorb magic, but they reflected it back in different ways, adding to and augmenting their wearers’ own power and abilities. Rubies radiated strength, emeralds increased speed, and the like.

  Pink diamonds reflected back beauty. The rose brooch was lovely on its own, but thanks to the magic now pulsing through the diamonds, it would make its wearer seem more beautiful as well. A subtle magic and a small glamour, but one that Alvis’s clients paid handsomely for.

  “Very nice,” I said when the diamonds had dimmed back to their normal color. “They soaked up quite a bit of your power. That glamour should last for more than a year, even if the client wears the brooch every day.”

  “You should know,” he replied. “You picked out those stones last week.”

  Most people scoffed at my mutt magic, but Alvis never had because it was quite helpful when picking out which gems to put in which pieces. Alvis might be a metalstone master, but all I had to do was sniff a tray of jewels, and my mutt magic told me which stones already had sparks of magic inside them, versus those that had little to no sparks. Jewels with more innate sparks had more potential and would absorb, store, and reflect back far more magic, letting Alvis craft more powerful pieces—and charge much higher prices for them.

  “And I did an excellent job, as always.”

  Alvis waved away my smug self-compliment, but the corners of his mouth lifted up into a tiny smile. Then he looked at me, and his face creased into its usual frown. “What have you been doing? Rolling around in flour?”

  I stared at the white stains that streaked my tunic. “Something like that.”

  “A page came down before you did. The queen wants an opal memory stone at today’s luncheon.” He shook his head. “I don’t know why she would want to record that pit of vipers.”

  “Those vipers are my cousins.”

  He snorted. “And they would bite, poison, and kill you if they could, all to curry more favor with Cordelia.”

  He wasn’t wrong. Life at the palace was always cutthroat, especially among the Blairs.

  “Did the page say why Cordelia wanted the memory stone?”

  “No.” Alvis shrugged. “But it probably has something to do with the rumors that she’s planning to announce Vasilia’s engagement to the Andvarian prince.”

  My stomach twisted at the mention of the crown princess, but Alvis’s theory made sense. Rumors had been swirling for months that Queen Cordelia wanted to strengthen relations between Bellona and Andvari, and a royal marriage would be the best way to do that. Alvis wasn’t the first to speculate that the main reason for the Andvarians’ visit was to formally announce the engagement—something that Vasilia was vehemently opposed to. The crown princess thought that Bellona should negotiate with Morta, not help protect Andvari from the other larger kingdom. She’d proposed several new trade agreements with Morta, all of which the queen had vetoed, and relations between the daughter and mother had been frosty for months.

  Alvis pointed at the table in the corner that I used. “I prepared the stone. I have work to do, so you might as well take it with you to the luncheon.”

  “You’re not coming? I thought Cordelia personally invited you.”

  He snorted again. “No, it was Vasilia, which means that she probably wants another jewel for her newest sword or dagger. Some little trinket to make her even more powerful than she already is. I’m staying here. If she wants her new bauble badly enough, she can come ask me for it herself.”

  My stomach twisted again, but I didn’t respond. Words wouldn’t change anything. Not when it came to my strained relationship with Vasilia—and how she had betrayed me.

  Alvis handed the rose brooch to me. “Here. Take this over to your table, and get it out of my way while I clean up.”

  My fingers curled around the brooch. Not only could I smell the magic clinging to the jewels, but I could actually feel it, and the power burned like an ember in my palm. More importantly, I could feel my own cold, hard power rising up in response, wanting to snuff out all that hot, pulsing magic.

  Alvis watched me, his hazel eyes narrowing with interest. This was another one of his tests. I didn’t know why, but he was always searching for a sign, always looking for the smallest hint that I was more than what I appeared to be.

  Then again, he was the only one who even suspected that I was immune to magic.

  A magier’s lightning, a morph’s talons, a mutt’s speed, a metalstone master’s brooch. They could all hurt me, terribly so, but they didn’t do nearly the damage they were supposed to. And I could overcome them all, if I really wanted to, if I was truly desperate enough to unleash my own magic in response. Depending on who was inherently more powerful, either a magier would roast me alive with her lightning, or my immunity would smother her power, throttling it into nothingness. Although, thankfully, I hadn’t had to use my immunity like that in years.

  Back when I was younger, before I’d learned how to control my immunity, all I had to do was touch a ring or a necklace, and I would extinguish all the magic inside the jewels. At first, Alvis hadn’t been able to figure out why it was happening, but he’d slowly grown suspicious, and he’d started giving me these little tests.

  I loved and respected Alvis, but I’d never told him about my power. I’d never told anyone about it, not even Isobel. The only person that I’d ever even been tempted to tell was Vasilia, and thank the gods that I had ke
pt my mouth shut.

  So as easy as it would have been for me to wrap my fingers around the brooch, unleash my power, and extinguish the magic in the pink diamonds, I pushed my immunity back down, walked over, and set the brooch on my table.

  Disappointment flashed in Alvis’s eyes, but he started getting things ready for his next design.

  I looked at the memory stone on my table. It was a smooth, flat opal roughly the size of my palm, resting on top of a black velvet bag. The gem reeked of magic, and sparks of blue, red, green, and purple shimmered through the milky surface, like fireworks exploding over and over again.

  Memory stones did exactly what their name implied—they captured and held memories. All I had to do was place the stone in a strategic position and tap on it three times, and it would record everything at the luncheon. People, conversations, even the decorations. Then, when the event was over, I would tap the stone three more times to stop its magic, and the queen would have a perfect recording of the day’s festivities, which she could view by tapping on the stone herself at any time.

  I dropped the opal into the black velvet bag and slid the whole thing into my pants pocket. Then I noticed a black velvet box tied with a blue ribbon sitting on the corner of my table. I picked up the box and shook it, but the velvet kept me from hearing what was inside.

  “What’s this? Another new piece for a client?”

  “Sort of.” Alvis fiddled with his tools. “It’s for you. Consider it an early birthday present.”

  “My birthday isn’t until the Winter Solstice. Besides, you don’t believe in birthday presents.”

  Alvis always said that a person’s birthday was just another day, although he always found an excuse to sneak me a treat on mine, whether it was a new set of metal cutters, some gems for my latest design, or a bag of chocolates that he claimed he didn’t want.

  “Well, I finished it early, so you’re getting it now. Don’t just look at it,” he grumbled. “Go on, open it.”

  I undid the ribbon, set it aside, and slowly cracked open the box, enjoying the surprise for as long as possible.

  A stunning bracelet lay inside the black velvet.

  The wide band was made of curls of silver that had been twisted together to resemble thorns, which wrapped around and protected the elegant crown in the center of the design. Instead of being a single gem, the crown was made of seven tearstone shards that had been fitted together, making it glitter far more than one gem ever could. The bracelet was exquisite, but what was even more impressive was all the magic that pulsed through it.

  Like other jewels, tearstone could absorb and reflect back magic, but it also had the unique property of offering protection from magic—deflecting it like a shield. Tearstone jewelry that reflected back magic was often light gray in color, while those pieces that deflected magic were often midnight-blue, like the ones in my bracelet.

  Each shard in the crown was filled with a cold, hard power that was similar to my own immunity. I didn’t know why Alvis had made the bracelet, since I didn’t have anything to fear at the palace—at least, not when it came to physical danger—but I was touched by the gesture.

  “It’s beautiful,” I whispered. “It must have taken you months to make this.”

  Alvis shrugged, but his lips twitched up again, as though he was holding back another smile. “Well, don’t just look at it. Put it on.”

  I slid the bracelet onto my wrist and snapped the clasp. It fit perfectly, and the tearstone shards glittered a deep, vibrant blue.

  “I know that shards are one of your signature designs, but why a crown made of them?” I asked, running my finger over the jewels. “I’ve never seen you make that before.”

  Alvis shrugged. “I’ve made a crown of shards before, although not for a long time. I only use it for special pieces.”

  I glanced at him, sensing there was something he wasn’t telling me, but he fiddled with his tools again, and the stubborn set of his mouth told me that he wouldn’t reveal anything else. Still, love and gratitude flowed through me, and I walked over and wrapped him up in a tight hug. If I’d had the strength, I would have lifted him off his feet and spun him around, but he was far too short and stocky for me to do that.

  “Thank you!” I hugged him even tighter. “Thank you so much!”

  Alvis awkwardly patted me on the back. “All right,” he grumbled. “I have work to do, and you have a luncheon to attend, remember?”

  I hugged him again, then drew back. Alvis stared at me, that small half smile still on his lips. I leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek.

  “Bah!” He waved his hand. “That’s quite enough of that.”

  “I know. You don’t believe in affection either.” I grinned. “I guess that it’s lucky for both of us that I do.”

  I leaned forward and kissed his other cheek.

  “Bah!” Alvis waved his hand at me again, but his lips were slowly creeping up. If he wasn’t careful, he was going to break out into a bona fide smile.

  I grinned even wider at him, and he actually did smile at me. Then his hazel gaze dropped to the bracelet, and his smile vanished, as though something about the piece bothered him, even though he was the one who’d made it.

  “Is something wrong? Did you not want me to wear the bracelet? It doesn’t exactly go with my kitchen tunic,” I joked.

  He shook his head. “Don’t be silly. Of course I want you to wear it.”

  “But?”

  He hesitated. “Just . . . be careful.”

  “Of what?”

  “I don’t know, exactly. It just seems like there are a lot of new people around the palace lately. You know how I feel about new people.”

  “You don’t like them.”

  Alvis nodded. “You can’t trust new people.”

  I could have pointed out that he didn’t like anyone, not even me most days, and that just because he didn’t know someone didn’t mean that they were up to something sinister, but I held my tongue. He’d given me such a lovely gift, and I didn’t want to ruin the moment. Besides, he was right. I had a luncheon to attend and my freedom and future to secure.

  “Go on,” he said. “Before I change my mind and make you stay here and work.”

  I raised my hand and snapped off a salute. “Yes, sir.”

  Alvis gave me a chiding look, but his lips were twitching as though he was trying to hide another smile. Laughing, I gave him another salute, then left the workshop.

  Chapter Three

  I trudged up to the first floor, which was much busier than before. Maeven must have lit a fire under the kitchen staff because servants hustled to and fro, carrying everything from table linens to platters of cheeses to baskets of fresh fruit. The steady thud-thud-thud-thud of their footsteps was like a low, rolling drumbeat, accentuated by the clatter of dishes rattling together.

  I eyed a couple of servants carrying crates full of bottles. How much champagne did Maeven think would be consumed at the luncheon? Perhaps she was just being cautious in having so much of it on hand. If Cordelia was going to announce Vasilia’s engagement, then there would be several toasts wishing the couple well, congratulating each kingdom on a shrewd new alliance, and so on. Either way, I hugged the wall, steering clear of the scurrying servants.

  But that put me in the path of other people—the palace guards.

  Normally, a guard was stationed at either end of the common areas, with a few more roaming from one section of the palace to the next. Just to make sure that the political disagreements, drunken lords, and feuding ladies didn’t get out of hand. But even those things were few and far between and almost always quickly resolved.

  But today, guards were stationed every few feet. One, two, three . . . I counted more than a dozen in this hallway alone. Captain Auster must have brought in extra security for the luncheon. An ordinary enough occurrence, given the Andvarian dignitaries’ importance, and one that wouldn’t normally bother me. But I had been at the palace for a long time, and I knew e
very single one of the guards, along with their routes and duties.

  I didn’t recognize any of these people.

  All the guards were wearing the standard uniform of a plain gold breastplate over a short-sleeve red tunic with black leggings and boots, and each one had a sword buckled to their black belt. Nothing unusual there. But the more I studied the guards, the more I noticed something very unusual about them.

  They all reeked of magic.

  A servant carrying a tray of champagne flutes hurried by, pushing me closer to two guards who were standing along the wall. I drew in a deep breath, tasting the scents in the air. Dozens of perfumes and colognes clashed together, their floral and spicy notes fighting for dominance, along with an undercurrent of sour, nervous sweat.

  I expected the perfumes and colognes, given all the people who moved through Seven Spire on a daily basis, but the sweat was a surprise. Usually, that scent only permeated the palace when there were deals to be made, fortunes to be won and lost, and enemies to be struck down.

  I drew in another breath, my nose twitching as I sorted through all the scents. The harsh, metallic tang of magic swirled through the hallway again, emanating from the two guards.

  I stared at the men, but I didn’t see any morph marks on their necks, and no lightning or fire sparked on their fingertips to indicate that they had any magier power. And they obviously weren’t masters, since they weren’t working with or wielding some specific element. They could be mutts like me, but mutts usually only smelled of magic when they were actively using their power, and all these two were doing was standing against the wall.