Silence dropped over the clearing. Wexel loomed over Leonidas, but no one else moved or spoke. I reached out with my magic again. Leonidas’s mind was as blank as an empty chalkboard, but his heart was still thump-thump-thumping, although the sound was growing slower and weaker. He was still alive, but he wouldn’t stay that way for long without help.
I was no bone master, so I couldn’t heal Leonidas, but I could at least slow his blood loss. Once again, I curled my fingers into a fist. Only this time, instead of stopping Wexel’s sword, I imagined balling up Leonidas’s tunic in my hand and then shoving the fabric into his wound.
Ball up, and shove down. Ball and shove. Ball and shove . . .
I did that over and over again, until I had packed as much fabric into the wound as I could. Lucky for me, and him too, the prince was still wearing his black cloak and riding coat, and no one seemed to notice his tunic moving and rippling underneath the other garments.
I released my magic and listened again. Thump-thump-thump. Leonidas’s heart was still beating, the sound steady, if a bit slow. Maybe I had saved him. Maybe not, but I’d done all that I could for him.
Wexel must have seen my hand move out of the corner of his eye, because his gaze snapped over to me. I stood absolutely still and kept my face schooled into a neutral expression, as if watching the attempted murder of a prince was an everyday occurrence and no more noteworthy than the cool breeze gusting through the clearing.
The captain faced Conley again. “Dump his body someplace it will never be found.”
“Of—of course,” Conley stammered.
Wexel opened his mouth as if to say something else, but instead he grimaced and looked up, as though expecting to see something other than clouds in the sky. An unexpected emotion surged off him and zinged up against my skin—fear.
I frowned. Wexel had just tried to murder his own prince. What could possibly worry him after doing something so brutal and treacherous?
The captain dropped his gaze from the sky, whirled around, and strode off toward the woods on the opposite side of the clearing. Instead of relaxing, now that his foul deed was done, he clutched his sword and continued to glance upward, as though he was expecting a lightning bolt or something else equally dangerous to strike him down.
“Let’s go!” Wexel ordered.
The guards hefted their bags of tearstone a little higher in their arms, then followed him. The Mortans disappeared into the trees, leaving Leonidas lying in the clearing.
Conley, Penelope, and the other miners all visibly relaxed, and tension rushed out of them like air leaking from a child’s balloon.
The foreman stared down at the fallen prince “This is not part of our arrangement. Wexel should have given me an extra bag of gold for cleaning up his mess.”
Conley huffed in aggravation, then stabbed his finger at Penelope and me. The motion made the coins tink-tink-tink together inside the satchel still hanging off his shoulder. “You two. Load the body into one of the wheelbarrows, and get rid of it. Then bring both wheelbarrows back to the mine. And be quick about it.”
Penelope bobbed her head. “Yes, sir.”
Conley eyed Penelope, but he must have heard the tremble in her voice and seen how badly her hands were shaking, because he fixed his gaze on me. I bobbed my head as well, as though I were as frightened as she was.
He jerked his head at the other men. “Fun’s over. Back to work. You can all pick up your cut of the gold at the end of your shifts.”
Conley walked across the clearing, waddling under the weight of his gold-laden satchel, and vanished into the trees. The other miners followed him, leaving Penelope and me behind. The second Conley and his men were gone, I whirled around to her.
“What have you gotten me into?” I hissed. “I thought we were just helping the foreman. I didn’t know about any of this!”
I gestured at Leonidas, still unconscious on the ground.
Penelope blanched. “I’m sorry, Gemma. So sorry! I didn’t know the Mortans were going to kill somebody. I swear! I thought the exchange would take place just like usual.”
Her words snuffed out my faint hope that Conley had picked us out at random to help with his scheme. “Like usual?”
“Yeah. I thought Conley would give the tearstone to some Mortan guards. I didn’t know a Mortan captain was going to be here. Conley must have been worried about getting double-crossed. That’s probably why he brought us along, as a show of strength.”
“Oh, please,” I snapped. “Conley would have shoved us into the guards’ swords while he ran away. We were nothing more than human shields.”
Penelope winced. “Well, it all worked out okay. Right?”
Anger exploded in my chest, and I struggled to keep my voice calm. “How long has this been going on?”
“I don’t know how long Conley has been siphoning tearstone from the mine, but I’ve been helping him for the last three weeks.”
“Why?”
Penelope sighed. “Because my daughter fell out of a tree while she was playing and broke her leg. It was a really bad break, and she was in a lot of pain. I got her as much medicine as I could, but I didn’t have enough money to get her leg properly set by a bone master, so I asked Conley if I could work some extra shifts. He said that if I helped him with a special project that he would give me more than enough money to heal my daughter.”
Understanding trickled through me, cooling some of my anger. I might have done the same if someone I loved had been hurt.
I reached out with my magic, checking on Leonidas.
Thump-thump-thump. His heart was still beating at that slow, steady pace, and he didn’t seem to be getting any weaker.
I needed to get him out of here, so I could try to heal him, but I also needed more information about Conley’s treachery. I wavered, torn between helping Leonidas and furthering my own mission. But protecting my people from the Mortans was more important than the life of one man, especially this man, so I focused on Penelope again.
“What did you do for Conley? Before today?”
“At first, he asked me to smuggle tearstone out of the shaft. Just what I could fit into my pockets. I would hide the pieces in my locker, and he would collect them at night, after everyone else had left.” Penelope shrugged. “I didn’t think it was a big deal. What’s a couple of missing rocks here and there?”
More anger spiked through me. It wasn’t just a couple of missing rocks. Conley’s entire crew was probably stealing tearstone. All those chunks of ore had added up to those two wheelbarrows today, and there was no telling how much more Conley had already sold to the Mortans.
“So you stole tearstone for a while, then Conley started bringing you along to deliver it—to Mortan guards.”
Penelope flinched at my harsh accusation, but then she crossed her arms over her chest. “Yes, Mortan guards. They work for the Morricones just like I work for the Ripleys. What does it matter who gets the tearstone? Morricones, Ripleys, Rubins, Blairs. They’re all the same. Sure, they let us work in their mines and fight in their gladiator arenas, but the royals don’t care anything about us, about common folk like you and me.”
I blinked, shocked by the heat and especially the venom in her voice. “That’s not true. Heinrich is a good king. He cares about his people and tries to do what’s best for them.”
“Maybe he does, but Heinrich is still sitting in his palace while you and I are down in the dirt in the dark,” Penelope said, her tone even more bitter and caustic than before. “And do you really think Princess Glitzma concerns herself with what’s best for us common folk?”
A loud, derisive snort erupted out of her mouth. “Not a chance. All Glitzma cares about is draping herself in pretty gowns and sparkling jewels—jewels that we pry out of the mountains for her.”
This time, I was the one who flinched. A few years ago, a noble lady had snidely called me Glitzma during a royal ball, saying that the glittering diamonds on my gown nearly blinded her. The nickna
me had stuck and spread through Andvari and all the other kingdoms even faster than the cursed “Bluest Crown” song.
At first, the nickname had amused me, and I had thoroughly embraced it, using it to further cultivate my pampered princess persona and create an even better cover for my spy missions. But lately, Glitzma had started to bother me. Oh, some people used the term to mock and belittle me, especially in their own minds, where they thought I couldn’t hear, but even when folks said it with kindness and affection, the nickname still grated on my heart.
It seemed as though I had done my job far too well, and no one thought I was anything more than a lovely doll to admire. Or perhaps I just wanted someone to peer beneath the pretty gowns and sparkling jewels and see the real me—and accept me despite all my worries, quirks, and especially my fears that I wasn’t good enough, strong enough, to be queen of Andvari.
That no matter how much information I gathered, and how many missions I went on, and how many schemes I thwarted, that I would never be able to atone for my shameful inaction during the Seven Spire massacre. That I truly was a coward at heart, with magic that I couldn’t fully control, who would only let people down, who would only let them die, just as I had during the massacre.
Penelope sighed again, and some of the anger leaked out of her body. “Forget about the Ripleys. They’re not here, so they don’t matter. The simple truth is this—if I hadn’t done what Conley wanted, then he would have just found someone else to help him. And then he would have made things even worse for me at the mine.”
Her regret clamped around my heart like a vise. She truly was sorry about everything she’d done. Perhaps she’d also been scared, especially after what had happened to Clarissa. Either way, I’d gotten some information out of Penelope, and now I needed to focus on the person who might be able to give me even more—Leonidas Morricone.
I stalked over and dropped to my knees beside the prince, who hadn’t so much as twitched this whole time.
“Stealing tearstone is one thing.” I gestured at Leonidas. “But what about this? Did you know this was going to happen?”
Penelope reared back as though I had punched her. “Of course not! I never would have come along if I’d known that someone was going to get hurt.” She wet her lips. “Is he . . . dead?”
I pressed my fingers up against his neck. Thump-thump-thump. His pulse drummed along steadily, although an alarming amount of blood had soaked into his clothes, despite my shoving his tunic into the wound. But I still had a chance to save him—or I could let him bleed out.
Memories of my childhood encounters with Leonidas Morricone bubbled up in my mind like hot lava, burning away my weak, treacherous sympathy for him. All I had to do was walk away, and he would die where he lay. The cold, cruel, petty part of me longed to do that, to let him suffer at the hands of his own countrymen, just as he’d let me suffer at the hands of those turncoat guards all those years ago. Even better, letting him die would finally destroy whatever lingering shred of kinship I foolishly felt for him.
I dropped my hand from his neck and started to rise, but my gaze snagged on a splash of purple a few feet away from Leonidas’s shackled hands—an ice violet, just like the one he’d given to that girl this morning. He could have easily killed the girl, but instead, he’d let her go, even though she could have run away screaming and revealed his position.
I wavered a moment longer, then sighed and pushed my hurt and anger back into the past, where they belonged. Like it or not, Leonidas had spared an innocent Andvarian life, and I had a duty to save his in return. Not because I was a princess and he was a prince, and not even to find out more about the stolen tearstone. No, this was just me, just Gemma, trying to help another person simply because it was the right thing to do.
Besides, if I didn’t at least try to save him, then I would be no better than Maeven, who had watched while men, women, and children were slaughtered during the Seven Spire massacre. And if there was one thing I would never, ever be, it was anything like Queen Maeven Morricone.
“Is he dead?” Penelope asked again.
“Yes,” I lied. “He’s dead. Help me get him into one of the wheelbarrows.”
She blanched at my cold, clipped tone, but she took hold of his legs, while I grabbed his shoulders. Together, we hoisted him up off the ground and into one of the now-empty wheelbarrows. Leonidas didn’t make a sound, and his face was ashen enough to make it seem as though he truly was dead. He would be soon enough, if I didn’t find a way to help him.
But first, I had to get rid of Penelope. She might not have wanted anyone to get hurt, but I couldn’t trust her not to run straight to Conley with the news that Leonidas was still alive. So I reached out with my magic and twisted my fingers, as though I were turning an invisible door knob. Penelope made a small, choked sound and clutched her stomach, as though she suddenly felt nauseous.
Normally, I only used my power to move objects and skim people’s thoughts. Unlike some mind magiers, I didn’t whisper commands to people, or make them see things that weren’t really there, or hurt them with my magic. Not unless I had no other choice. But this was a life-or-death situation, and Leonidas was running out of time.
“I don’t . . . feel so good,” Penelope rasped, her hands still on her stomach.
“I can handle this. Just tell me where to dump him.”
“Are you sure? I dragged you into this. I should be the one to . . . take care of things.”
“I’m sure,” I replied in a firm voice. “Roll the other wheelbarrow back to the mine. Maybe you’ll feel better once you’re away from here. Just tell me where I can get rid of his body.”
Penelope bit her lip, still hesitating, so I twisted my hand again. Her eyes widened, her stomach gurgled ominously, and it took her a few seconds to swallow down this second, stronger round of nausea.
“There’s a ravine on the far side of the woods, about half a mile away,” she said. “Rock slides happen all the time there, so his body should get covered up in a day or two.”
“Okay. You go back to the mine and tell Conley that I’ll return soon.”
Penelope nodded, and her relief washed over me, even stronger than the nausea I’d inflicted on her. She grabbed the handles of the second wheelbarrow; gave me a brief, wobbly smile; and then pushed it into the trees.
When I was sure she was gone, I stared down at Leonidas.
He lay sprawled in the wheelbarrow like a sack of potatoes. His arms and legs hung off the sides at awkward angles, while his face was even paler than before. For a moment, I thought he truly was dead, but then his chest fluttered up and eased back down with a shallow breath.
“Doing the right thing is a lot bloody harder than it should be,” I muttered. “Especially when it comes to you.”
Of course he didn’t answer me, and if I didn’t act now, he wouldn’t be talking ever again. So I sighed, grabbed the wheelbarrow, and rolled my mortal enemy out of the clearing.
Chapter Five
Pushing a wheelbarrow full of a mostly dead prince through the woods wasn’t as easy as I’d thought it would be.
Given the rocky, hilly terrain, I couldn’t have managed it without my magic. But one good thing about being a mind magier was that I could move much larger objects with my magic than I ever could with my own mortal strength; although, the heavier the object, the more magic, willpower, and concentration were required. So I pushed the wheelbarrow along with my arms and legs, and used my magic to shove it past, around, and over the rocks, dead logs, and other detritus that littered the forest floor.
Leonidas didn’t stir, no matter how bumpy the ride got or how viciously I cursed. Those coldiron shackles were still wrapped around his wrists, and they clank-clank-clanked together as loudly as a bell ringing around a cow’s neck. Between the clanking shackles, the attached rattling chain, and the wheelbarrow’s squeaky wheel, I was making far too much noise, but speed was more important than stealth.
I made it back to the clearing
in front of the cottage without running into anyone. Just a little bit farther, and I could stop pushing, roll Leonidas out of the wheelbarrow, and see how badly he was injured—
A presence brushed up against my mind, as soft as a feather tickling my skin, and a shadow fell over me, blotting out the sun. I jerked to a stop, and my sudden, awkward motion almost tipped over the wheelbarrow.
A harsh warning cry rang out. My head snapped up, and I realized why Captain Wexel had kept glancing up at the sky after he had stabbed Leonidas.
Lyra was hovering above me. The strix was pumping her wings hard and fast, and the resulting blasts of wind blew my miner’s helmet clear off my head. With another harsh cry, the strix streaked downward, her talons aimed at my chest, ready to tear me to pieces.
I dropped the wheelbarrow handles, lifted my hands, and reached for my magic. But before I could shove the strix off course, a dark gray blur streaked through the air and slammed into her.
Grimley was here.
Lyra and Grimley both went down hard and tumbled wings over tails across the clearing, their talons raking over the ground and throwing up grass, dirt, and rocks in their chaotic wake. They slammed into the broad trunk of a maple hard enough to make a shower of scarlet leaves cascade down and comically cover their bodies, as though they were children who had deliberately jumped into a pile of raked leaves.
Lyra hopped up and whipped around to face Grimley, who shook off the leaves, leaped up, and pawed at the ground. Strixes and gargoyles were natural competitors for food, and Lyra and Grimley both looked like they wanted to rip each other to shreds. Lyra’s beak, talons, and onyx-tipped wings were some of the few things hard, strong, and sharp enough to penetrate Grimley’s stone skin, while his horns, teeth, talons, and arrow-tipped tail could be used to equally brutal effect on her. It was a fight that could end only one way—with the two of them killing each other.
Even though it was stupid and dangerous, I leaped in between the two creatures just as they started to charge at each other. Grimley immediately halted, and to my surprise, Lyra jerked to the side to keep from running into me, although she whipped right back around.
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