Protect the Prince (A Crown of Shards Novel)

by Jennifer Estep

  I hugged him again, still not caring how emotional I was being, then dropped my arms and stepped back. “I need to ask you about being a Winter queen,” I murmured. “I need to ask you about a great many things.”

  I discreetly reached over and tapped the silver bracelet on my wrist—the one he had made. His gaze focused on the bracelet, then flicked to the sword and the dagger belted to my waist.

  A shadow darkened Alvis’s face. “I know. But right now, you have a king to greet.”

  He bowed to me, then stepped back. I turned and faced the king again. Then I drew in a breath and strode forward until I was standing in the center of the carpet at the bottom of the dais.

  A couple of guards shifted on their feet, as though they were afraid that I was going to charge up the steps and try to murder their king, but Dominic waved his hand, and the guards held their positions. Interesting that he would signal the guards instead of the king. The crown prince must have more power and influence than I’d realized.

  King Heinrich stared at me for several long seconds. Finally, he tipped his head the smallest bit, and I dropped into the perfect Bellonan curtsy, as protocol dictated. I held the curtsy far longer than necessary, silently apologizing for Vasilia’s cruel, wicked actions. Then I rose to my feet and looked up at the king again.

  Heinrich studied me from head to toe, taking in everything from my modest tunic to my tearstone weapons to my black boots. Eventually, his gaze locked onto the thin crown on my head. A frown creased his face, as if he wasn’t quite sure what to make of me, although his features quickly melted into a more neutral expression. Not friendly, but not hostile either. The best I could expect, given the circumstances.

  “Queen Everleigh, welcome to Glitnir,” Heinrich said in a loud, booming voice.

  “Thank you for hosting me, King Heinrich. You and your people honor me with your hospitality.”

  Several nobles let out loud, derisive snorts.

  “Perhaps we should show her the same hospitality that her cousin showed Frederich,” a low, angry voice muttered.

  I looked to my right. To my surprise, it wasn’t one of the nobles who had spoken—it was Captain Rhea.

  I hadn’t seen her enter, but she was now standing at the bottom of the dais, close to Dominic.

  She realized that I’d heard her, that everyone had heard her, but instead of ducking her head in embarrassment, she lifted her chin and shot me a venomous glare. She obviously held a grudge for what had happened to the Andvarians. I’d expected that, but she seemed to be taking their deaths very personally.

  I stared at Rhea, letting her know that I wasn’t intimidated by the hate burning in her eyes, then faced the king again. I didn’t say anything, and neither did he. The seconds ticked by, and the tension grew and grew.

  I glanced up at the second-floor balcony. Serilda, Cho, Xenia, and Paloma were clustered together, along with the rest of the Bellonan entourage, all of them surrounded by Andvarian guards. Sullivan was standing by himself in the corner, once again not a part of either group.

  For the first time, I realized just how precarious my position was. My friends couldn’t help me, given the distance between us, and I was completely exposed and vulnerable in front of the dais. With one word, one flick of his finger, King Heinrich could order his guards to surge forward and punch their spears through my heart.

  I opened my mouth to break the silence and try to ease the tension when the scent of sour, sweaty eagerness filled my nose. Not an unusual scent, given all the schemes that were probably hatched in the palace on a daily basis, but the aroma was far stronger than it should have been.

  So I drew in another breath, and a second scent joined that first one—hot, jalapeño rage. The sharp, fiery scent cut through all the others, indicating a deep well of emotion that belonged to a single person. And just like at Seven Spire, I knew exactly what it meant.

  Someone here wanted me dead.

  Chapter Ten

  I drew in another breath, tasting the air again, but the scents remained the same—sour, sweaty eagerness and hot, jalapeño rage. The longer I concentrated on the aromas, the more I realized that the strongest one was the rage.

  My gaze cut left and right, wondering who bore me such ill will. But there were simply too many people for me to pick out exactly who the scent belonged to, unless I went around and started sniffing people like a bloodhound. Now that would really give the Andvarians something to gossip about.

  Captain Rhea glared at me again, then looked up at the king. “I still don’t know why you let her come here.” She spat out the words. “You should have let me kill her the moment she stepped off the train. Not let her waltz into the throne room like nothing happened to your son. Like my father and the others weren’t murdered.”

  My stomach clenched. Her father had been slaughtered at Seven Spire? No wonder she hated me.

  “Your father was a dear friend and a great ambassador for our people,” Heinrich said. “I have not forgotten what happened to him.”

  I grimaced. He was talking about Lord Hans. So that’s who Rhea’s father was. It made sense that the ambassador’s daughter would hold such a high position at Glitnir.

  “But your insults and theatrics won’t do the dead any good.” Heinrich leaned forward and speared her with a cold gaze. “I am the king, and I make the decisions. Not you, Rhea. You would be wise to remember that.”

  She flushed at the sharp, stinging rebuke, but that didn’t solve my problem. I had to do something to show everyone that I wasn’t afraid of Heinrich or Rhea or the guards. Otherwise, Maeven wouldn’t be the only one trying to kill me, and my mission would be doomed before it ever really started.

  “Perhaps there is a way we can settle this unpleasantness,” I said. “Once and for all.”

  “And what would you suggest?” Dominic spoke up, his blue gaze locking with mine. “Tell me, Queen Everleigh, what could possibly make my brother’s murder and the attempted murder of my daughter any less unpleasant?”

  His voice was cold and authoritative as he mocked me with my own words. He might be nicknamed Prince Charming, but he certainly wasn’t being that to me. As much as I wanted to snap back at him, I focused on the king again. Heinrich was the one who was important right now, not Dominic.

  “I came here to formally, publicly apologize for Vasilia’s actions, which lead to the deaths of your son, Prince Frederich, and your ambassador, Lord Hans, as well as the rest of the Andvarian entourage.”

  Heinrich stared at me with an unreadable expression, then waved his hand, telling me to continue. How gracious of him.

  “But Vasilia’s actions were not my actions,” I said in an even louder, stronger voice. “I had no part in the massacre, and I never wanted to see any harm come to the Andvarians.”

  I turned and looked around, focusing on first one noble, then another one. “But while you were all here, safe in Andvari, I was at the massacre. I was fighting for my life, and I know the horrors of that day far better than any of you.”

  At my harsh, accusing words, some of the nobles actually winced.

  “You weren’t the only people who lost loved ones. Nobles, guards, servants. They were all senselessly slaughtered. My queen, my cousins, my family died that day, including a woman named Isobel, who was like a second mother to me.”

  I glanced over at Alvis. Tears gleamed in his eyes, and a muscle ticked in his jaw. He too was thinking about Isobel.

  I looked back over the crowd again. “But what did any of you do about the massacre? Nothing—absolutely nothing. I was the one who avenged your prince, and your ambassador, and all the other people—Andvarian and Bellonan alike—who were murdered. I was the one who challenged Vasilia, and I was the one who shoved my sword through her black, treacherous heart. So perhaps you should all think about that, instead of condemning me for a crime I didn’t commit.”

  Cho had been teaching me how to project my voice, and my words boomed out like thunder. But they quickly faded t
o nothingness, and that tense silence descended over the room again.

  “We know of your heroics during the massacre,” Heinrich said. “Gemma has told me how you, Lady Xenia, and Sir Alvis helped get her to safety. The fact that you saved my granddaughter is the only reason you’re still breathing.”

  His voice was even colder than before, and his face was as hard as the throne he was sitting on. But then his eyes narrowed, and the scent of his sharp, orange interest drifted down to me.

  After a few seconds, the barest hint of a smile curved his lips, and satisfaction glimmered in his blue eyes, as though I’d passed some sort of test I didn’t even know he was giving me. I’d seen that same look on Queen Cordelia’s face many times, whenever she had outmaneuvered a noble before the other person had even realized that they’d fallen into her trap.

  A sinking feeling filled my stomach. Heinrich hadn’t let me come to Glitnir just to apologize. No, the king wanted something from me, and I could almost see the calculations going on in his mind as he thought about the best way to get it.

  Rhea stepped forward again, her hands clenched into tight fists. “You can spout pretty words all you want,” she snapped. “The fact remains that you’re alive and Prince Frederich is dead. That my father is dead.”

  Her voice almost broke on that last word, and the scent of her ashy heartbreak punched me in the gut. She was angry, but she was also grieving. Both were emotions I knew all too well. And I realized how cruel and thoughtless my words had been. At least I had gotten the chance to avenge Isobel and everyone else—a chance that Rhea would never have.

  Unless I gave it to her.

  And I realized exactly how I could show Heinrich, Dominic, and everyone else that I was strong, that Bellona was still strong. Words weren’t going to help this situation, but I knew something that would, something that almost always did.

  At the very least, everyone would enjoy the show.

  “You’re right,” I said. “I can’t change what happened or the fact that your loved ones are dead. But we can still settle our differences—the Bellonan way.”

  Rhea regarded me with open suspicion. “And how is that?”

  “With a black-ring match.” I spread my arms out wide. “Right here, right now.”

  Shocked gasps rippled through the crowd, and everyone started whispering. No one had expected me to do something so bold. No, they had expected me to bow and scrape and apologize until I was blue in the face. Maybe I should have. But that wouldn’t win me anyone’s respect, much less their cooperation. Besides, Sullivan had said that his father valued strength, and nothing showed how powerful you were more than winning a fight to the death.

  “You’re the captain of the royal guard,” I said. “Surely, you’ve been to a gladiator bout or two. And I’m assuming you know how to fight. Or are those pretty weapons just for decoration?”

  Rhea sucked in a breath as though I’d just slapped her across the face. She glared at me a second longer, then faced the throne.

  “My king,” she said through clenched teeth. “With your permission, I would like to take Queen Everleigh up on her generous offer to separate her head from the rest of her body.”

  Heinrich looked at Rhea, then back at me. More cold calculation filled his eyes, although he kept his face blank, as though it didn’t matter to him who won.

  “Very well,” he said. “The Bellonans have always loved their barbaric gladiator tradition. So if it’s a fight you want, Queen Everleigh, then a fight you shall have.”

  * * *

  Heinrich called for a brief recess to let Rhea and me prepare for our impromptu battle.

  I moved off to one side of the dais, and the nobles there scattered like rats, leaving me standing alone. None of the Andvarians wanted anything to do with me. No surprise there.

  What was surprising was that Dominic stepped down from the dais, drew Rhea aside, and started talking to her. At first, I thought that he was speaking to her as any prince would to a captain about to go into battle—until he gently touched her arm.

  Princes definitely didn’t do that to their captains, and his lemony worry tickled my nose. Dominic was far more concerned about her than he should have been.

  Rhea winced, as though his touch pained her, but she still leaned into it and stared up at the crown prince as if he was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. I drew in another breath, and the soft, sweet aroma of her rosy love drifted over to me.

  The captain of the royal guards in love with the crown prince? Now that was interesting.

  I wasn’t the only one who noticed their little tête-à-tête. Heinrich watched them a moment, then started speaking to Dahlia, who stepped up beside him.

  Gemma drifted over to the corner of the dais that was the closest to me. She chewed on her lip and gave me a worried look, then gestured at Alvis, who went over to her. The two of them started whispering to each other.

  Calandre and the rest of the Bellonan servants and guards remained upstairs, but Serilda, Cho, Xenia, and Paloma came down from the balcony and gathered around me. Sullivan also left the balcony.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Xenia stabbed her cane against the floor in obvious displeasure. “Picking a fight with the Andvarians is not the best way to start this trip.”

  “Especially with the captain of the royal guard.” Paloma eyed the other woman. “Rhea looks like she knows how to fight.”

  “That’s because she does know how to fight,” Cho said. “Something that Serilda spent a fair amount of time teaching her how to do.”

  My head snapped around to her. “You taught Rhea? Like you taught me?”

  “Not exactly.” Serilda shifted on her feet. “Rhea was already an excellent fighter. I just helped her improve her techniques the last time the Black Swan troupe toured through Glanzen.”

  “So you made her even deadlier than she already was. Terrific,” I muttered. “Just terrific.”

  Rhea looked over and gave me a smug smile, as if she knew exactly what Serilda was telling me.

  Cho laid his hand on my shoulder. “You’re just as good as she is. You can beat her.”

  “Don’t worry, Evie,” Paloma chimed in, dropping her hand to her mace. “If she kills you, then I will be more than happy to avenge you. We might not be at the Black Swan anymore, but we’ll always be gladiators.”

  Somehow, I held back a groan. My dying would be bad enough, but Paloma trying to kill Rhea afterward would only make things that much worse. I opened my mouth to tell my friend that under no circumstances was she to try to avenge me, but Paloma gave me a hot glare, as did the ogre on her neck, and I bit back my words.

  I glanced around, expecting Sullivan to walk over to us, to me, but I didn’t see him. Xenia realized that I was searching for him and discreetly pointed her finger to the right. I looked in that direction.

  Sullivan was on the throne room floor, heading toward the dais, as though he was going to talk to his father. But someone stepped in front of him—the beautiful, auburn-haired woman I’d noticed earlier.

  The woman smiled at Sullivan, and I could see the interest in her face as easily as I could the massive gargoyles carved into the columns. Sullivan gave her a curt nod in return. My heart clenched tight.

  “Who’s that talking to Sully?” I asked.

  Cho cleared his throat before answering. “That’s Helene Blume. She’s from an old, prestigious noble family. Lots of money, lots of land, lots of power and influence at court.”

  Xenia studied the other woman, as did the ogre on her neck, and both of their faces scrunched up in thought, as if they were trying to remember something. Then Xenia’s face relaxed, as did the one of her inner ogre. “Helene Blume. Oh, yes. Prince Frederich’s fiancée.”

  I blinked in surprise. “What?”

  “She was Prince Frederich’s fiancée. The two of them were supposed to have been married . . . well, now. Sometime in the early autumn.” Xenia paused. “At least until Heinrich broke off t
heir engagement and offered Frederich up to Cordelia and Vasilia instead.”

  “How awful for her,” I said.

  Xenia shrugged. “You know how these things work. A match is only a match until someone better comes along.”

  “I wouldn’t worry about Helene,” Cho chimed in. “She always seems to land on her feet.”

  Serilda jabbed her elbow into his side, like he’d said something he shouldn’t have.

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  The two of them exchanged a glance. Then Cho gave me a bright smile, although the dragon on his neck grimaced.

  “Oh, nothing really. Just that she’s a noble with a lot of money, power, and opportunities.” He hesitated. “If you really want to know more about Helene, then you should talk to Lucas. After all, he’s . . . familiar with everyone here. Right, Serilda?”

  Cho’s words made perfect sense, but Serilda glowered at him as if he’d once again said something he shouldn’t have. The two of them obviously weren’t revealing everything they knew about Helene. What was so special about the other woman?

  “Helene doesn’t matter right now,” Serilda said. “You need to focus on beating Rhea.”

  Before I could question them any more, Xenia started tap-tap-tapping her silver cane on the floor, as though she was using the motion to further jog her memory.

  “Heinrich breaking off Frederich’s engagement to Helene caused quite the scandal,” Xenia said. “Her father, Marcus Blume, was absolutely furious, and he was pressuring Heinrich to marry Dominic to Helene to smooth things over. At least, until Marcus was killed in a riding accident several months ago. But rumor has it that Helene still might end up with Dominic. His wife died more than two years ago, and there’s been a lot of pressure from the nobles for him to pick a new wife, especially now that Frederich is dead.”

  I glanced over at the crown prince, who was still talking to Rhea. With his dark brown hair, blue eyes, and tall, muscled figure, Dominic was quite handsome, and more than one noblewoman shot him an admiring glance, although he seemed oblivious to their looks. No doubt the women at court constantly vied for his attention. Sure, Gemma would one day be queen, but marrying the crown prince and being his official consort would be the next closest thing.