I wanted him .
Sullivan must have sensed my stare because he looked in my direction. Our gazes locked and held across the ballroom. This was my moment. I drew in a breath and headed toward him—
Halvar stepped in front of me, blocking my path. He smiled and held out his hand. “Hello, Evie. May I have this dance?”
I looked past him, but Sullivan had vanished. I glanced around the ballroom, but I didn’t see him anywhere.
Halvar frowned. “Is something wrong?”
“Of course not. I would be honored to dance with you.”
I forced myself to smile and put my hand in Halvar’s. He grinned and led me onto the dance floor.
My earlier performance of the Tanzen Freund had had a far more profound effect than I’d realized, because every single Unger wanted to dance with me. Men, women, even the children. I whirled from one partner to the next, from one section of the ballroom to the opposite side and back again, from waltz to reel to quickstep. Whenever I got a chance, I looked for Sullivan, but I didn’t see him anywhere.
Finally, after about two solid hours of dancing, I managed to escape from the ballroom. I was a bit overheated from the last quickstep, so I slipped out one of the doors and wound up in the training courtyard. Spring had come and gone while we had been at the castle, and summer was taking hold, but the air was still a bit chilly here in the mountains. After the noise, heat, and commotion of the ballroom, I welcomed the cool quiet, and I walked through the courtyard and stepped out onto the grass beyond.
The lawn here wasn’t nearly as large as the one at Seven Spire, and I quickly reached the stone wall that cordoned off the grass from the steep drop below. Castle Asmund overlooked the surrounding mountains, and the sticky scent of the pines and other evergreen trees filled the air. A sliver of the moon hung in the midnight sky, gilding the rocks and trees in a silver frost.
I didn’t know how long I stood there before I heard footsteps echoing through the courtyard and then swishing through the grass behind me. I drew in a breath, and Sullivan’s scent filled my lungs.
He stepped up beside me and stared down at the steep drop. “If you’re thinking of jumping, I wouldn’t advise it,” he said in a light, humorous tone. “That’s far too long a drop until you hit the bottom for you not to regret what you’ve done.”
I barked out a laugh. “I was thinking just the opposite. That I should go ahead and jump. That I should stop this madness and put myself out of my misery.”
Sullivan stared down at the drop again. “What went through your mind? When Vasilia blasted you off the side of the palace, and you started to fall?”
“Well, my life didn’t flash before my eyes, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“So what did you think about?”
“How angry I was,” I said in a soft voice. “That Vasilia had gotten the best of me yet again. That she had killed everyone. My cousins were never particularly kind, but they didn’t deserve to be slaughtered. But most of all, I wished that I had done something else, something more, something to fight back against Vasilia and all the horrible things she did that day and all the others at the palace. I wished that I had found a way to stop her.”
“And now you have,” he said. “Do you regret it? Coming to the Black Swan? Becoming a gladiator?”
I shook my head. “No. Even though I have worked harder than I have ever worked, even though I’ve been in danger and almost killed more times than I can count, these last few months have been the happiest of my life since before my parents died. For the first time in years, I could be myself and not have to weigh my words and actions and how someone might use them against me. I could just be me, Evie, and no one else. I was finally free.”
Sullivan raised his eyebrows. “And now?”
I blew out a breath. “And now I feel like a gargoyle being forced back into its cage. And that’s not even the worst part.”
“And what would that be?”
“Knowing that you, Paloma, Serilda, Cho, and everyone else are going to risk your lives, just on the mere hope that I can kill Vasilia.”
“It’s more than a mere hope.”
This time, I raised my eyebrows at him.
“Serilda Swanson is one of the finest warriors that I have ever seen.”
“So?”
Sullivan shrugged. “So I’ve watched you go toe to toe with her all day, every day for weeks.”
I shook my head again. “But she still beats me. She still kills me every time.”
“But she has to work for it. And she has to work hard for it. How long do you think that it’s been since Serilda has gone up against anyone that she couldn’t beat within a matter of minutes? She’s not letting you win. She has too much pride for that, but you’re challenging her. Someday, you’re going to be even better than she is, and she knows it. That’s why she is pushing you so hard now, and that’s why she is going to keep pushing you every day until you kill Vasilia.”
I smiled. “You make it sound like a certainty.”
“It is a certainty. You will do it, Evie. You will face Vasilia and win. I believe in you.”
Conviction blazed in his eyes, making them glitter like blue stars, while the silvery moonlight gilded the handsome planes of his face. He really did think that I could defeat Vasilia. It was the first time anyone had ever thought that I was better than her, and it touched something deep inside me—too many things deep inside me.
I drew in a breath, letting his scent sink deep into my lungs. The cold, clean vanilla aroma sent a shiver through me, and a hot spark flared to life in my stomach. I didn’t want to talk about the future and all the death that it might hold. No, tonight, I didn’t want to do any more talking at all.
His hand was resting on top of the wall, and I reached out and laid my fingers on top of his. Sullivan jerked, as though my hand burned him, but he didn’t pull away. Understanding filled his face, along with a touch of amusement.
“I thought you hated me, highness.”
“I did. At first.”
He arched an eyebrow. “And now?”
“I’m starting to see some of your finer qualities. You can be quite pleasant, Sully. When you’re not blasting me with magic or knocking me flat on my back in the training ring.” I smiled, stepped closer, and tilted my head up so that I was looking directly into his face. “Although there are certain instances where I wouldn’t mind being flat on my back with you looming over me.”
His eyes narrowed, and hunger flickered across his face. I wet my lips and moved closer to him . . . and closer . . . and closer still . . .
The warmth of his body mingled with mine, and I drew in another breath, tasting his delicious aroma. More heat spiraled through my body, and I could see the same desire shimmering in his eyes, making them glow brighter than the moon above. I reached out with my other hand to cup his face and draw his lips down to mine—
Sullivan pulled away.
One moment, our breaths were kissing each other’s cheeks, our lips were only an inch apart, and we were as close together as two people could be without actually being in each other’s arms. The next, he had stepped back, and the night air swirled in between us, in the space where his body had been. It felt like a cold slap across my face.
“I’ve just made a monstrous fool out of myself, haven’t I?” I couldn’t keep the bitterness out of my voice.
“No,” he replied in a low, husky tone. “Not a fool at all.”
“Then what’s wrong?”
Sullivan’s lips pressed into a tight, thin line, as though he didn’t want to answer. But after several seconds, he cleared his throat. “You will be queen of Bellona soon.”
“You think—hope —that I will be queen.”
He shook his head. “No, I know that you will be queen.”
“So? What does that have to do with tonight?”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Because I wouldn’t be satisfied with just one night with you, highness. I would never be
satisfied with that.”
Hope flooded my chest. “It wouldn’t have to be one night—”
His bitter laugh drowned out my words. “Of course it would. Because you will be queen. Do you have any idea what that means?”
I stiffened. “I lived at the palace for fifteen years. I know exactly what it is to be queen.”
“And I know exactly what it’s like to be a bastard prince,” he growled.
Understanding rushed in, drowning my hope. Sullivan gave me a grim smile. He could tell that I was thinking about all the implications of my becoming queen—implications that I had never fully considered until now.
“As soon as you are on the throne, your allies and enemies alike will expect you to marry,” he said in a soft voice. “And to marry well—someone with money, power, magic, connections. Someone who can help you secure the Blair line and Bellona’s future.”
I had been so focused on my training that I hadn’t thought much about what would happen if I actually defeated Vasilia, but he was right. Sooner rather than later, I would be expected to marry, and marry well.
A cold light filled Sullivan’s eyes. “My father is the king of Andvari. My mother has been his mistress since before I was born. I spent my childhood at the royal palace, and I grew up with the rest of the king’s children—his legitimate children.”
I thought back to the massacre. “So Prince Frederich was your half brother, and Gemma is your niece.”
He nodded. “Yes. I had the same tutors and learned the same skills and went to the same balls as Frederich and my other royal relatives, but I was never really one of them. I was never their equal .”
I grimaced. I knew exactly what that was like.
“So I made a promise that I would never let myself be treated that way again, that I would never let myself be seen as less than anyone else just because of the circumstances of my birth.” He smiled, but the expression was even colder than his eyes were. “We both know that bastard princes don’t get to consort with queens.”
I wanted to tell him that he was wrong. That his being a bastard and my being queen wouldn’t matter. But I couldn’t say the words because I knew what a lie they would be.
Sullivan stepped forward and raised his hand. For a moment, I thought he had changed his mind, that he was going to pull me close and kiss me anyway, despite his harsh words. But his fingertips stopped an inch away from my cheek, as though I was a marble statue in a museum that he didn’t dare touch, not even for the briefest moment.
“You will be a wonderful queen. Kind, caring, compassionate. Strong, cunning, and ruthless when you need to be. But I can’t break my promise to myself. I won’t . Not even for you, highness.” The last word came out as a low whisper, but somehow, it shattered my heart more than if he had been shouting curses at me.
Sullivan’s fingers hovered in the air next to my cheek. Then he dropped his hand to his side, gave me a sad smile, and walked away.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The next morning, we gathered in the main courtyard to say goodbye to the Ungers. But we weren’t saying goodbye to all of them. I was standing with Serilda when Xenia, Halvar, and Bjarni announced that they were returning to Bellona with us.
“Aunt Xenia told us what you’re planning. We would be honored to assist you. One of us is worth twenty soldiers,” Halvar said, a proud note rippling through his voice.
Bjarni nodded. “You’ll need our help when you challenge Vasilia.”
Serilda crossed her arms over her chest and glared at Xenia. “Going back to Bellona to spy on us?”
“I told you before. I’m only a spy when I have something interesting to report.” Xenia eyed me. “And I think that this royal challenge will be very interesting.”
“I don’t think that interesting is the right word for it,” I muttered.
Xenia smiled. “We’ll see.”
She strode across the courtyard to make sure that her bags were properly loaded onto her carriage. Halvar and Bjarni followed her, while Serilda went over to speak to Cho and Paloma. That left me standing alone next to the doors, watching as everyone prepared to leave.
Footsteps sounded inside the castle, growing closer and louder. My breath caught in my throat. I would know his footsteps anywhere.
A moment later, Sullivan appeared in the doorway.
He was wearing his gray coat and had a gray leather knapsack slung over his shoulder. Stubble darkened his jaw, his brown hair was mussed, and his eyes were tired, as though he’d had a long, sleepless night.
He wasn’t the only one. After he had walked away, I had gone back to my room and spent the rest of the night lying in bed, glaring up at the ogres in the fresco on the ceiling and alternating between being angry and sad that he had rejected me. I understood his reasons, but they didn’t lessen my own pain and disappointment, and they certainly didn’t banish the complicated feelings that I had developed for him. Perhaps the truly sad part was that his bloody honor made me like him even more.
Sullivan stopped when he saw me. I made sure to keep my face perfectly blank and not let any of my true feelings show. His jaw clenched, as though he were having trouble pushing down his own emotions. He nodded at me and walked on.
I tracked him through the courtyard as he called out greetings to everyone. He didn’t look at me again, but I could smell the peppery anger and minty regret radiating off him.
I sighed. It was going to be a long trip back to Bellona.
* * *
A long trip? More like interminable. Not only were things between Sullivan and me extremely awkward, but Serilda and Xenia sniped at each other the whole way back to Svalin. Still, we made good time, and we reached the Black Swan compound two weeks later.
But our work was just beginning.
As soon as we returned, Serilda wrote to Vasilia, congratulating her on her upcoming coronation and offering the troupe’s services to add to the celebration. Vasilia replied to the letter the next day, saying that she would be honored to have the troupe perform.
And so Vasilia set her trap for us, and we set ours for her. Only time would tell which one of us would be victorious.
Sullivan was right in one of his dire predictions. Serilda trained me even harder than before, working with me from sunup until well past sundown every day. The other gladiators wondered what was going on, and Cho told them that I was to perform a special drill for Vasilia, since I had won the black-ring match. I didn’t know if the other gladiators believed him, but they all gave me sympathetic looks, grateful that I was the one working so hard instead of them.
The days passed by quickly, until it was the night before the coronation. I finished my final round of training with Serilda, took a shower, and collapsed into bed. My eyes slid shut, and I started to dream, to remember . . .
I didn’t know how long I stood in front of the playroom door that Vasilia had slammed in my face, listening to her laugh at me through the heavy wood. Tears leaked out of my eyes, but I couldn’t move. I couldn’t scream. All I could do was stand there and cry.
Eventually, one of the servants came and led me to my room. Only, it wasn’t the large, spacious bedroom filled with toys and pretty clothes down the hall from Vasilia’s chambers. No, this room was on one of the upper levels, tucked in a dark, deserted corner, and full of hand-me-down clothes and worn-out furniture, with nary a toy in sight.
And that was only the beginning of my miserable fall from grace.
The day after my testing, Captain Auster came to my room and told me that I was being apprenticed to Alvis, the royal jeweler. Auster led me to Alvis’s basement workshop. The metalstone master took one look at me, then went right back to his work.
The only one who was remotely kind to me was Isobel, one of the cook masters. She felt sorry for me, the girl that no one wanted, and she plied me with sweet treats, trying to make me feel better. Plus, Vasilia and the other children had servants to fetch them food and drinks, so they never visited the kitchen. At least whil
e I was in the kitchen, I didn’t have to listen to their laughter.
My heartbreak didn’t ease, not really, but as the days passed, another emotion rose up to join it—rage. This cold, cold rage that beat in my chest whenever I looked at the crown princess, whenever I saw her smile or heard her smug laughter.
Vasilia didn’t want to be my friend? Fine. I would show her exactly what she was missing. I was still a royal, still a Blair, and still attending the same lessons, parties, and training sessions as her. If I couldn’t be Vasilia’s friend, then I would be better than her—at everything .
So I studied my lessons and memorized the party dances and trained with the guards and did everything that I could to best her.
And for a while, it worked.
I excelled at my lessons, especially the languages and the dances. My only frustration was that I could never quite get the hang of fighting, but two out of three wasn’t bad.
Vasilia realized what I was doing. She knew that she had crushed my heart, and at first, it amused her to see me trying so hard to get back at her, to show her that I was just as good, just as special, as she was. But she slowly grew bored of it, and she turned on me again.
Oh, Vasilia didn’t lift a finger to hurt me. She didn’t have to. The other children did it for her.
They stole my homework and ripped my papers to shreds. Tripped me during the dances. Punched, kicked, and sliced me with their swords during the training sessions. Through it all, Vasilia stood by and watched with a satisfied smile. The other kids had already realized that pleasing Vasilia could be beneficial to them and their parents right now, as well as in the future.
Even Bellonan children are very good at playing the long game.
Still, all the cruel pranks, tricks, and beatings only fueled my rage and made me that much more determined, and I kept right on going.
One day, I showed up at Alvis’s workshop with a black eye from when the other kids had roughed me up during training. Alvis watched me while I grabbed a rag and wiped the dirt off my face. Isobel had given me a bag of ice, and I held it up to my eye, hissing at the fresh sting of pain that the cold brought along with it.
Kill the Queen (Crown of Shards #1) Page 33
