Kill the Queen (Crown of Shards #1)

by Jennifer Estep

  “Does everyone know what they’re supposed to do?” Serilda asked in a soft voice.

  We all nodded. We had gone over the plan so many times that I could have recited it in my sleep.

  Led by Cho as the ringmaster, the troupe members would perform their regular routines, while Serilda, Xenia, Halvar, Bjarni, Paloma, and Sullivan slipped into the crowd and discreetly took up positions around the lawn. Once the show ended, Halvar and Bjarni would make sure that the troupe made it over to the palace doors, and if things went badly, they would get people to safety. Serilda had also told Theroux, Aisha, and a few of her most trusted gladiators that we might run into trouble and to be on high alert, although she hadn’t given them any details.

  Once the troupe was out of the line of fire, I would step forward as the Black Swan gladiator. Everything would be up to me then, including whether we all lived or died.

  I looked from one face to another, but none of my friends showed the faintest flicker of fear. Well, I couldn’t really tell what Xenia was feeling, given the mask on her face, but the ogre on her neck winked at me.

  So many emotions filled me, like a magier’s lightning jolting through me over and over again, but the one that was stronger than all the others was my worry. Vasilia had beaten me so many times before. Could I really defeat her now, when it counted most? I didn’t know.

  Serilda must have sensed my concern, because she laid a hand on my shoulder. Her blue gaze locked with mine. “You’re ready. You can do this, Evie. I know you can.”

  I shook my head. “But I’ve only been training for a few months. Vasilia has been planning for this her entire life.”

  “Planning is not winning,” Serilda said in a soft voice. “Remember that.”

  She squeezed my shoulder, then stepped back. I looked at the others again, and they all nodded back at me. There was so much that I wanted to say to them, but the words were stuck in my throat, so I did the only other thing that I could to tell them how much they meant to me.

  I made an elaborate flourish with my hand, then dropped down, executing the perfect Bellonan curtsy.

  I held the curtsy far longer than was necessary, far long than protocol dictated, before rising. One by one, the others bowed back to me. Serilda, Cho, Xenia, Halvar, Bjarni, Paloma, and Sullivan.

  Tears pricked my eyes, but I cleared my throat and finally managed to say a few words. “To the end?”

  “To the end,” they all murmured in unison.

  A knock sounded on the door, and a muffled voice said that it was time to take our places for the performances.

  It was time—to finish this.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  We left the staging room, walked down a hallway, and stepped out onto the royal lawn.

  The area in front of the doors was open, just as it had been during the massacre. Several long buffet tables had been set up against the palace wall, and people filled plates with all sorts of delicacies, including bite-size chocolates that had been molded to look like tiny crowns. Beyond the tables, people milled together in groups, sharing the latest gossip. Servants moved through the throngs there, handing out more food and drinks.

  My gaze swept over the crowd. Senators, guilders, noble lords and ladies. Vasilia had invited everyone who was anyone in Bellona to her coronation. Everyone was dressed in their finest formal suits and ball gowns and adorned with their most impressive jewels. The scents of beauty glamours and other magic radiated off their rings, necklaces, and bracelets, and I had to twitch my nose to hold back a sneeze at the strong aromas.

  Finally, I studied the guards. A couple of guards were stationed at either end of the buffet tables, with a few more roaming through the crowd, but there weren’t nearly as many as I had expected. Then again, why would Vasilia bother with dozens of guards? She thought that she had already won, that there was no one left to challenge her, and that the ceremony was a mere formality. And so did the guards, judging from their bored expressions. Some of them were even eating and drinking, instead of being alert to potential danger. The lack of guards gave me a tiny spark of hope. Maybe we could actually pull this off.

  Finally, I focused on the centerpiece of the evening—the arena.

  Gray wooden bleachers circled much of the lawn, creating an arena on the grass. The bleachers towered high into the air, each section topped with a fuchsia flag bearing Vasilia’s gold sword-and-laurels crest. The sun had set while we had been waiting inside the palace, and the moon and stars were gleaming in the sky. A gray-blue twilight bathed the makeshift arena in a soft haze, but the summer air was still warm, despite the faint breeze.

  Felton was standing at the wide gap between the bleachers that served as the arena entrance. He held up a hand, telling us to stop, since another troupe was still performing. He glanced at Serilda and Cho, making sure that they were about to walk into Vasilia’s trap. Then he turned his gaze back to the other performers on the lawn.

  And that’s when the rest of my friends moved.

  One by one, Xenia, Halvar, Bjarni, Paloma, and Sullivan slipped away and vanished into the crowd. I held my breath, wondering if Felton might notice them and wonder where they were going, especially Xenia, who was rather conspicuous in her ogre mask, but he was focused on what was happening on the lawn. So far, so good.

  A few minutes later, the troupe on the lawn finished their performance to loud, hearty cheers. The performers waved to the crowd and hurried off the grass.

  Our turn.

  The Black Swan troupe was announced, and Serilda strutted out to the delight of the crowd. She smiled and waved until everyone quieted down, then turned and bowed to someone that I couldn’t see, although I knew that it had to be Vasilia.

  “We are honored to be here to usher in a new queen for Bellona,” Serilda said in a loud voice. “One who will lead our kingdom to even greater prosperity.”

  The crowd buzzed, puzzled by her proclamation, since everyone knew that war with Andvari was coming, but Serilda smiled through the murmurs.

  “But for now, we offer up this humble performance. Enjoy the show!”

  The crowd roared, and Serilda waved to different sections of the arena. The familiar calliope music started, and Cho and the performers ran out onto the lawn. Serilda hurried over to where I was standing. Felton eyed her a moment, then turned his attention back to Cho and the others.

  Serilda touched my shoulder, and I nodded, telling her that I was okay. She nodded back at me, then slipped into the crowd to take up her position.

  The acrobats started their tumbling passes, the wire walkers climbed up to the platforms that had been erected around the lawn, and the gladiators gathered in their formations. Hearing the music and seeing the routines helped me to relax. As long as I kept thinking of this as just another show, I was fine. Dwelling on the knowledge that mine was the most important part was what filled me with worry.

  The Black Swan troupe gave a grand performance, pulling out all the stops. The acrobats tumbled faster and farther, the wire walkers did more flips and dips, and the gladiators slashed their swords and crashed their shields together harder and more violently. The show ran far longer than normal, although it seemed to fly by. All too soon, the acrobats stopped tumbling, the wire walkers climbed down, and the gladiators lowered their weapons.

  The performers saluted the crowd a final time, then ran off the lawn. A low, roaring drumbeat filled the arena, and a spotlight fell on Cho, who was standing in the center of the grass.

  “And now our main event,” Cho called out, his voice booming like thunder. “The winner of our recent black-ring match. The Black Swan!”

  The crowd roared, just as they had done in the arena when I had killed Emilie. I just hoped that they would still be cheering for me when this was all said and done. I drew in a deep breath, then slowly let it out. Then I pulled my sword out of its scabbard and focused on the feel of the cold tearstone in my hand, letting it steady me.

  Showtime.

  * * *
<
br />   I strode out to the middle of the lawn where Cho was standing. He touched my shoulder, like Serilda had, then left the arena, leaving me to face the crowd alone.

  The people in the bleachers yelled and cheered and clapped and screamed at the top of their lungs. But they weren’t screaming for me. Not really. No, they were cheering for the blood sport that I represented. But these were my people and this was our way, so I lifted my chin, squared my shoulders, and bowed to first one section of bleachers, then another.

  I worked my way around the arena until I came to the final section, which was situated up against the wall, right where Cordelia had died and I had taken my forced swan dive. Instead of bleachers, a gray stone dais took up that section of the arena.

  That’s where Vasilia was.

  She was sitting on the queen’s throne, an enormous chair made of jagged pieces of tearstone that had been dug out of Seven Spire and fitted together centuries ago. Normally, the throne stayed in the grand ballroom, which also served as the throne room, but tonight, it had been placed in the center of the dais. The chunks of tearstone gleamed with a soft, muted light, their color shifting from lightest starry gray to darkest midnight-blue and back again. The shifting colors and gleams of light represented the Summer and Winter lines of the Blair royal family, as well as the everlasting strength of the Bellonan people.

  I had never paid much attention to the throne before, but my gaze locked onto the top of the chair, and for the first time, I realized that the seven jagged pieces of midnight-blue tearstone were arranged there in a very deliberate way to create a familiar pattern.

  A crown of shards.

  “Frosted crowns made of icy shards.” I whispered the fairy-tale rhyme, even though no one could hear me above the continued roar of the crowd.

  I stared at the crest a moment longer, then focused on my cousin.

  Vasilia was wearing black boots and leggings, along with a fuchsia tunic embroidered with her gold sword-and-laurels crest. A sword and a dagger were belted to her waist, and a small gold crown studded with pink-diamond laurels rested on her head. It was the same crown she had worn to the black-ring match. I was surprised that she wasn’t already wearing the queen’s crown, but she was probably saving that moment for the official coronation.

  I had been expecting her to wear something far more formal, but the casual outfit made sense. Vasilia wouldn’t want to dirty up a ball gown on the off chance that she had to chase down and kill the troupe members when she ordered the guards to massacre us. Perhaps she was even planning to battle Serilda and Cho herself, just as she had killed her mother and sister.

  Despite her casual clothes and modest crown, Vasilia looked stunningly beautiful. Her hair hung in loose waves around her shoulders, each strand gleaming as though it was made of polished gold, and her gray-blue eyes were bright and luminous. Murderous power agreed with her. But even more than that, she seemed genuinely happy, and the wide smile that stretched across her face only added to her beauty. She should be happy, ecstatic even. She was on the verge of getting everything she’d ever wanted.

  And she wasn’t alone.

  Nox was lounging in a smaller, cushioned chair next to her, looking as handsome as ever with his golden hair and tailored tunic. He must have been a bit bored, since he signaled a serving girl to climb up onto the dais and refill his wineglass. Nox looked the girl up and down before winking at her. The girl tittered and rushed off the dais, but Nox followed her movements, a hungry expression on his face.

  Vasilia didn’t seem to notice his wandering eye, but Maeven did. She was sitting on his other side, and she narrowed her eyes at him in a clear warning. Nox shrugged and sipped his wine. He wasn’t concerned if Vasilia caught him ogling anyone.

  Maeven’s lips pressed together, but she turned her attention back to the arena. She was dressed in a glittering gown that was the same midnight-purple as the amethyst choker that ringed her neck. Her blond hair was sleeked back into its usual bun, and she looked far more regal and stately than Vasilia did, despite the fact that the younger woman was the one wearing the crown. Then again, if Xenia was right, Maeven was a royal too, albeit a bastard like Sullivan was.

  One more person was on the dais, but he wasn’t sitting in relaxed, luxe comfort. This man was standing stiff and tall in a metal cage that was lined with hundreds of thin, needle-like spikes. He couldn’t move, not even an inch, and he couldn’t relax, not even for a second, or the spikes would dig into his skin. It was a cruel, prolonged torture. Bruises covered his face, and a dirty, blood-crusted red tunic hung in tatters from his thin frame, as though he had been wearing the garment since the last time I had seen him here all those months ago.

  Captain Auster.

  I shouldn’t have been surprised that he was still alive. Of course Vasilia would wait until tonight to execute him. She would want to make a spectacle of him too.

  Maeven stared at me, and her lips puckered, as though she was wondering why I was so interested in Auster. I couldn’t afford for her to recognize me, so as much as it pained me, I dropped into a low bow in front of Vasilia.

  I held the bow as long as was necessary, and not a moment longer, just as Serilda had done, then straightened back up. Vasilia fluttered her hand, graciously telling me to proceed.

  I waited for the music to start, feeling vulnerable and exposed, since I wasn’t carrying my shield or wearing my dagger on my belt. Only a sword was required for this routine, and Serilda had thought that it would look suspicious if I took any other weapons into the arena. So I tightened my grip on my sword, hoping that it would be enough, hoping that I would be enough.

  The music blared to life, and I snapped up my sword and moved through the gladiator drills that Sullivan and Serilda had spent so many long hours teaching me. The things that had seemed so impossibly hard just a few months ago were as easy as breathing now, and I executed every single position with perfect, beautiful, fluid precision.

  My gaze cut from one section of the arena to the next, searching for my friends. Cho was standing next to Felton, while Sullivan and Paloma had stationed themselves behind a group of guards. Halvar and Bjarni were standing in front of the troupe members, whom they had shepherded back to the palace doors. Serilda and Xenia had discreetly taken up positions behind the guards on either side of the royal dais. Everything was going according to plan. Now the rest was up to me.

  I finished the drills, the last strains of the music faded away, and another hearty round of applause rang out. I bowed to each section of bleachers, then faced the dais again. Everything was the same as before. Vasilia smiling, Nox guzzling wine, Maeven frowning at me, Auster standing at forced attention inside his cage.

  Now or never.

  I pulled the memory stone out of my pocket. I could feel and smell the magic flowing through the opal, and I kept a careful hold on my own immunity, lest I accidentally snuff out the memory stone and the shocking truth that it contained.

  The applause finally died down, but I stayed in the middle of the arena.

  “I have a special treat for everyone,” I called out. “Something you will all want to see, especially the woman who would be our queen.”

  I held the memory stone up where everyone could see it. Then I angled the opal out toward the empty lawn and tapped on the stone three times.

  The opal started glowing with a pure white light, as did the blue, red, green, and purple flecks in the surface. The flecks quickly attached themselves to the smooth lawn and coalesced into one solid image—my face.

  From there, the massacre played out as it had in real life. Screams and shouts filled the air, but they weren’t from the crowd this time. Now the cries of everyone who had died that day rang out instead. Eventually, my hand closed over the stone, and the images vanished. I tapped on the stone again three times to deactivate its magic, then tossed it over to Cho for safekeeping.

  A stunned silence fell over the crowd, and everyone stared at Vasilia, who was just as shocked. Even Nox and
Maeven seemed startled. The only one who was remotely happy was Captain Auster, who was beaming inside his cage.

  Vasilia shot up off the throne. Anger and embarrassment mottled her cheeks, and a bit of white lightning crackled on her fingertips, telling me how pissed she was.

  “What is the meaning of this?” she hissed.

  “To tell everyone the truth,” I called out. “To show them what really happened during the royal massacre.”

  Vasilia opened her mouth, but I cut her off before she could deny all the evil things she’d done.

  “Captain Auster and the Andvarians didn’t assassinate Queen Cordelia and the other Blairs. It was Vasilia and Nox and Maeven and Felton.” I stabbed my finger at each one of them in turn. “And if you crown Vasilia queen tonight, then she will lead you into a false war against a kingdom and a people who have done nothing wrong. She will lead you to ruin. And for what? Nothing but her own greed and ambition.”

  Everyone looked from me to Vasilia and back again, and uneasy murmurs rippled through the crowd. Vasilia realized that she was losing control of the situation, even more so than she already had, and she stalked forward to the edge of the dais, even more lightning crackling on her fingers.

  “What trickery is this?” she demanded. “And who are you to say what happened? All you have is a pretty rock. Everyone knows that magic can be manipulated, designed to show whatever we want.”

  “I know what happened because I was there.”

  Vasilia sucked in a breath, and more uneasy murmurs sounded. Her gaze locked onto me, and I could tell that she was thinking back to that day, trying to figure out who I was and how I could have possibly survived. I waited for recognition to dawn in her eyes, but it never came. Even now Vasilia still didn’t see me. Well, she would realize her mistake soon enough.

  I drew the black swan mask up over my face and head and tossed it onto the grass. I looked at the crowd, turning this way and that, and letting them stare at me. Most of the people in the bleachers frowned, not recognizing me any more than Vasilia had, but one voice rose up.