Capture the Crown

by Estep, Jennifer

  “So what if she’s Gemma Ripley?” Milo said, still trying to undermine his mother. “She’s nothing more than Glitzma, a spoiled princess. Hardly a threat to any of us.”

  More than a few agreeing murmurs sounded.

  Maeven arched an eyebrow at her son. “This spoiled princess managed to dine at my table and walk the halls of Myrkvior as if she were one of us, which is something no other Ripley has ever done. Why, who knows what schemes and secrets she’s discovered over the past two days? Perhaps even some of yours, Milo.”

  A muscle ticced in his clenched jaw, although I thought his upset had more to do with Maeven’s mockery than any supposed secrets I might have learned.

  “You ignore Gemma Ripley at your own peril,” Maeven continued. “Then again, you’ve always had a tendency to underestimate your enemies. It’s going to be the death of you someday, my dear boy.”

  Milo stiffened, and a red flush stained his cheeks, although I couldn’t tell if he was more angered or embarrassed by the queen’s dismissive words.

  I’d thought the Morricones would immediately kill me if they realized who I was, but I should have known better. Instead, Maeven had unmasked me at her birthday ball to put her treacherous son back in his place and show the nobles how cunning and clever she still was, and it had worked like the proverbial charm. Goodwill and admiration surged off the nobles, and several of them smiled, nodded, and toasted her with their drinks. Maeven tipped her head in return, the devious sparkle in her eyes glittering even more brightly than the crown on her head did.

  I closed my own eyes, blotting out the smug triumph on Maeven’s face. Grimley. I’m in trouble. The Mortans know who I am.

  He responded immediately, I’ll come get you! Hang on, Gemma!

  NO, I replied in a stern voice. I don’t want you to get captured too. I couldn’t BEAR it if you were hurt because of me, because of my foolishness.

  I don’t care what happens to me. I’m getting you out of here—one way or another. Grimley’s fierce promise boomed through my mind, and a strong fist of love squeezed around my heart.

  Despite the situation, a smile curved my lips. And I love you for that. But I won’t be able to escape this mess. Goodbye, Grims. I love you so much. Always remember that.

  Gemma, wait—

  I grabbed hold of my magic and blocked the gargoyle, putting up a wall between our minds. His voice quieted to a dim rumble, although I couldn’t stop the fist of love that kept squeezing my heart over and over again. The warm, comforting sensation gave me the strength to endure what was coming next. I opened my eyes, lifted my chin, and faced my enemies.

  Smug Maeven. Worried Delmira. Angry, embarrassed Milo. Nervous Wexel. Emperia, Corvina, and the rest of the sneering nobles.

  Finally, I looked at Leonidas, whose cold features perfectly mirrored my own hard expression. I didn’t bother sending a thought or asking why he had exposed me. He was a Morricone, and I was a Ripley. That was explanation enough for everything. Even though I’d warned myself over and over to remember that, I had let our connection—attraction—cloud my judgment, and now I was going to pay the price. On the bright side, he would never betray me again, since I would most likely be dead within the hour.

  “Take her,” Maeven ordered.

  Guards moved forward, ringing the dance floor. My magic rose up, and my gargoyle pendant went ice-cold against the front of my gown, but I didn’t reach for my power. There were too many guards, and Maeven and Milo could easily strike me down with their lightning.

  “With pleasure,” Wexel growled. He gave me an evil grin, then stepped forward and slammed his fist into my face.

  Pain exploded in my jaw, my head snapped back, and I hit the floor. Somehow, I swallowed the groan rising in my throat and lifted my head.

  My gaze locked with Leonidas’s, and his cold, empty amethyst eyes were the last thing I saw before Wexel punched me again, and everything went black.

  * * *

  A steady, continued wrenching sensation in my arms jolted me awake. At first, I didn’t know what was causing the pain, but then I realized that I was hanging limply in between two guards who were dragging me through a hallway.

  I tried to lift my head, to fight back, but given the pain pounding through my skull, I couldn’t quite manage it, and all I could do was stare down at the purple rugs on the floor. They zipped by one after another as the guards dragged me along. All that damned Mortan purple blurred together, increasing the ache in my mind, as well as the magic rising up inside me . . .

  The rugs vanished, but my gaze locked on something else that was the same shade of purple—the tunic of the turncoat guard who was dragging Young Gemma through the woods.

  I was ghosting yet again, but this time, I didn’t mind the trip back to the past. It was preferable to whatever Maeven had planned for me in the present.

  So I followed along and watched the guard strong-arm Gems into the campsite clearing and throw her down in front of Alvis and Xenia, who were still kneeling on the ground.

  “Gems!” Alvis cried out. “Are you okay?”

  Before she could answer, Captain Hanlon stepped up and slammed his fist into Alvis’s face. The metalstone master toppled over onto his side, groaning with pain.

  “Alvis!”

  Gems reached for him, but the guard who’d forced her into the clearing twisted his fingers into her hair and hauled her upright, the motions sharp enough to bring tears to my own eyes.

  What a sad little creature you are.

  A voice filled Gems’s mind. She glanced over at Young Leo, who was standing at the edge of the woods.

  He stared at her. You’re a mind magier just like I am. I can feel how much power you have, even more than I do. And yet, you just stand there while your friends are about to be slaughtered. I was right before. You are soft and weak.

  Leo’s face remained calm and blank, despite his cruel words. Gems growled and lunged toward him, but the guard yanked her back.

  Captain Hanlon gestured at the other guards. “Now that we have the girl, kill the man and the woman—”

  Xenia snarled and swiped out with her talons, ripping open the stomach of the guard closest to her. Beside the ogre morph, Alvis pushed himself back up onto his knees and lunged for the sword lying on the ground. He grabbed it, then swung the blade, catching another guard across the knees and making that man scream and tumble to the ground.

  Xenia and Alvis both surged to their feet and stood back-to-back. Xenia extended her bloody talons, while Alvis clutched his sword, but they were outnumbered at least six to one, and they weren’t going to survive the fight. Everyone else in the clearing knew it, and so did they.

  Regret rippled off both of them, especially Alvis. I lost Everleigh, and now Gemma too. I should have done better. I should have done more. I should have fought harder.

  Xenia’s lips twisted into a fierce, silent snarl. Fucking traitors. I’ll kill as many of them as I can. Maybe I can kill the one holding Gemma, and she can escape into the woods. Maybe Gemma can live, even if Alvis and I can’t.

  Soft and weak. Leonidas spoke again, his voice dripping with even more disdain than before.

  Gems flinched as their thoughts crowded into her—my—mind, and her angry, panicked gaze zoomed back over to Leo again.

  “Why are you doing this?” she yelled. “What did we ever do to you?”

  Because you’re too soft and weak to stop us, he replied in a cold, matter-of-fact tone. Soft and weak . . . soft and weak . . . soft and weak . . .

  He kept chanting the words over and over again in his mind, taunting her.

  “Shut up!” Gems screamed. “Shut up!”

  Her hands clenched into fists, and rage rolled off her in palpable waves, along with the faintest tremors of magic. Something like satisfaction gleamed in Leo’s eyes, and he kept right on chanting, his voice louder and crueler than before, until it boomed like thunder in my own mind.

  “Kill them!” Captain Hanlon ordered again.r />
  The guard tightened his grip on Gems’s hair and hauled her backward. She kicked and flailed and thrashed, but the man easily pulled her along with his strength magic.

  “No!” she screamed. “No! No! No!”

  But no one listened to her, and Hanlon and the other guards advanced on Xenia and Alvis, who were still standing back-to-back. Leo continued to watch from a safe distance, although he grimaced and kept up his chanting, hammering Gems with his words over and over again. He also clutched his stomach, and sick misery pulsed off him, as though he didn’t like what he was doing. I frowned. I had never noticed that back when this had been actually happening.

  “No!” Gems screamed again.

  One emotion after another blasted off her and punched into my own chest. Fear. Dread. Pain. Shame. Frustration. Rage. They all mixed and mingled together, swelling into this one feeling, this one singular energy that bubbled up in my—her—heart. Gems couldn’t hold it back—she didn’t want to hold it back—and it all erupted out of her mouth in one loud, violent scream.

  The sound and the emotions and the power poured out of her, and I found myself screaming right along with her. We screamed because Uncle Frederich was dead. And Lord Hans. And everyone else on the Seven Spire lawn. We were alive, and they were dead, and we screamed because it wasn’t bloody fair.

  “Shut up!” the guard yelled.

  He tried to clamp his hand over Gems’s mouth, but she snapped out and sank her teeth deep into the web of flesh between his thumb and index finger.

  The guard yelped, tore his hand out of her mouth, and staggered back. Gems whirled around to face him. The guard growled and charged at her, but she lifted her hand, instinctively pulling on all the invisible strings attached to his body.

  Gems clearly didn’t know what she was doing, but somehow, she managed to toss the man through the air. His back cracked into a nearby tree trunk, and he dropped to the ground. His head lolled to the side, and his sightless eyes fixed on her in a shocked accusation.

  Gems’s eyes widened. She had killed him. She—I—had never killed anyone before. Her stomach rumbled ominously, and I clenched my own stomach, trying to quell the nausea roiling there.

  A hand clamped down on Gems’s shoulder and spun her around. Captain Hanlon drew back his fist to punch her—

  Suddenly, the captain flew backward through the clearing. He too slammed into a tree and tumbled to the ground—dead.

  Gems whirled around.

  Across the clearing, Leo lowered his hand to his side, although magic kept pouring off him. Not so soft and weak after all. Good. You just might live through this.

  Why did you save me from your own captain? Gems asked.

  Leo’s eyes glittered, and a faint, resigned smile tugged at his lips. Because I know what it’s like to be hunted.

  Another guard rushed toward Gems, drawing her attention. She raised her hand, pulled on those strings of energy, and tossed him into a tree as well. He too was dead before he hit the ground.

  Yet another guard rushed at her, his speed magic making him impossibly fast. Gems scrambled back, but she wasn’t going to be able to get out of the way before he hit her—

  The guard screamed and arched back. Xenia yanked her talons out of his side, then reached around and tore his throat open. Blood sprayed all over Gems, making her shriek in surprise, and that man pitched forward and hit the dirt.

  Alvis limped up beside Xenia, clutching a sword. Despite being outnumbered, he and Xenia had killed all the guards, and the men’s bodies littered the ground like bloody, tattered leaves.

  “Are you okay?” Alvis asked. “Are you hurt?”

  “I’m fine,” Gems replied.

  Xenia stepped over the guard whose throat she’d torn open, slapped her hands on her hips, and glared down at the girl with her bright amber eyes. She was still in her larger, stronger morph form, and blood covered her face and teeth and dripped off her long black talons.

  “I told you to run,” she growled.

  “I did run—straight into trouble,” Gems replied.

  I grinned. Even back then, my mouth had had a mind of its own.

  Xenia’s stern face softened at the girl’s black humor. “This was only one patrol. We need to leave before more of them come pouring out of the woods.”

  Alvis hurried over, scooped three knapsacks up off the ground, and slung them over his shoulder, while Xenia went from one guard to the next, rifling through their pockets and taking all the coins and anything else she found interesting.

  A flicker of movement caught Gems’s eye, and she whirled to her right.

  Leo was still standing at the edge of the clearing.

  Gems’s hands clenched into fists. You didn’t even stand and fight with your own people. That makes you even more of a coward than I am—and a traitor.

  Leonidas shrugged. As I said before, traitors get to live. And now, so do you.

  Her eyes narrowed. I should come over there and kill you myself.

  Another one of those small, humorless smiles flickered across his face. You probably should. At least if you killed me, my death would be quick. Uncle Maximus won’t be nearly so kind, especially after he hears about this.

  Leo dropped into a perfect bow, then vanished into the trees. Gems opened her mouth to tell Xenia and Alvis that the Morricone prince was escaping . . . but no words came out. Instead, she just sighed and let him go.

  To this day, I still didn’t know why I’d done that.

  “Gemma?” Xenia called out. “What are you doing?”

  “I was just . . .” The girl cleared her throat. “Making sure no more guards were sneaking up on us.”

  Xenia’s eyes narrowed, as if she could hear the lie in Gems’s voice, but she didn’t call the girl out on it. “Well, let’s get out of here before more of them show up.”

  Xenia took her knapsack from Alvis. Gems also grabbed her knapsack and hoisted it onto her shoulder. Xenia headed toward the far side of the clearing, with Alvis following along behind her.

  Gems glanced back over her shoulder, but once again all she—I—saw were trees. Leonidas Morricone was gone, so the girl hurried into the woods after her friends . . .

  A hot, electric presence filled my mind, yanking me back into the here and now and making my fingertips tingle in warning. Someone with magic was nearby—someone very dangerous.

  I blinked a few times, but instead of more purple rugs, all I saw was a haze of dull gray under my feet. Flagstones, maybe? My head was spinning so badly that I couldn’t quite tell.

  A finger hooked under my chin and forced my head up, making it spin again. Slowly, the world righted itself, and amethyst eyes came into view. My traitorous heart lifted, thinking that Leonidas was here. Then the man leaned down, coming into focus. His golden hair gleamed under the lights, and an ugly sneer twisted his face.

  Milo Morricone was looming over me.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  I jerked back, but there was nowhere for me to go.

  Clank-clank-clank.

  I glanced up. My arms had been spread out wide and chained to the ceiling, while my feet were anchored to the floor, so that my body formed a five-pointed star. I yanked on the chains, but the thick, solid links didn’t budge, and the shackles clamped around my wrists felt like circles of hard, unbreakable ice stuck to my skin. I reached for my magic, but it seemed weak and far away, like a limb that had gone to sleep and was stubbornly refusing to wake up. I bit back a curse. The shackles were made of coldiron, which was dampening my power.

  My gaze darted around. I expected to see dungeon walls, perhaps some bars lining the front of a cell, but tables full of broken weapons, books, and papers surrounded me. My heart sank. This was so much worse than a dungeon.

  I was back in Milo’s workshop.

  Milo snapped his fingers in front of my face, making me jerk back again. “You’re awake. Finally. I was starting to think Wexel had knocked you senseless for good.”

  He drew b
ack. A flicker of movement caught my eye, and I looked past him.

  Maeven was standing by the open doors, surrounded by three guards. Delmira was there too, although she was staring down at the floor, as if she didn’t want to see what was going to happen next. Wexel hovered in the corner by himself, his back to the wall and his hand gripping his sword, as if he was expecting trouble at any second.

  Leonidas wasn’t here, and I cursed myself for looking for him.

  “So you’re the great Gemma Glitzma Ripley,” Milo said. “You don’t look like much of a princess. I thought you were supposed to be some storied beauty, always swathed in silks and dripping with diamonds.”

  The nickname angered me, and I seized on to the emotion, letting it drown out my dread. No matter what happened, I would not cower in front of my enemies.

  “What can I say?” I drawled. “The Mortan coffers aren’t nearly as rich as the Glitnir ones are. Why, I’ve had to make do with rags and paste here.”

  Milo casually reached out and slapped me. The solid crack of his hand hitting my cheek rang out like a thunderclap. Pain exploded in my face, reigniting the dull throb from Wexel’s earlier punches, but I swallowed the groan rising in my throat.

  “Insult Morta or her coffers again, and I will saw out your tongue with a butter knife,” Milo said.

  “So what’s it to be?” I asked, determined not to let him see my dread. “What sort of torture do you have planned?”

  He grinned. “Mother did say that I could have some fun with you.”

  “How kind of her,” I replied in a dry tone, looking over at Maeven.

  The queen stared back at me. Her cold amethyst eyes were devoid of emotion, but a small smile played at the corners of her lips, and I felt a wave of smugness ripple off her, despite the coldiron shackles stifling my magic. She might have captured me, but I got the sense that her long game—whatever it was—was still playing out.

  “Just a mild bit of torture,” Maeven said. “Don’t damage her too badly. She’s no use to me dead.”

  Milo sneered at his mother the same way he had at me. “You wouldn’t have said that sixteen years ago. You would have fried this Andvarian bitch to a crisp with your lightning in the throne room for everyone to see.”