“Gemma? Gemma! Is that you?” Footsteps pounded in the distance, the sound a bit muffled and distorted through the mirror, and Topacia lunged into view.
Several more tight knots of tension in my stomach loosened. “Yes, it’s me.”
Tears gleamed in her eyes, and Topacia put her hand over her mouth, as if to stifle a sob. Then she cleared her throat and drew back.
“Where are you? What happened? Are you injured?” Her eyebrows creased together. “And why are you wearing Mortan purple?”
I told her everything, from Conley shoving me into the chasm, to Leonidas rescuing me, to him bringing me to Myrkvior, to our bargain to get to the bottom of Milo’s plot together. By the time I finished, Topacia’s eyes were as big and round as coins.
“Are you out of your mind?” she hissed. “You can’t stay at the Mortan palace! You have to escape! As soon as possible!”
“No, I have to stay. I have to at least try to find out what Milo Morricone is planning.”
Topacia rubbed her temples, as if her head was suddenly aching. “Prince Dominic will have me executed for this.”
“No, he won’t,” I chirped in a cheery voice. “My father will be far too busy throwing me into the Glitnir dungeon where he can keep an eye on me to even think about punishing you.”
Topacia gave me a sour look and dropped her hands from her temples. “At least tell me that Grimley found you.”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
“After Leonidas Morricone flew you away on his strix, the other creatures stayed behind in the plaza for a few minutes. Once those strixes finally left, Grimley took off flying and never looked back. I assumed that he was following you.”
My heart swelled with love. Of course Grimley would have followed me, just as I would have followed him anywhere. Plus, I’d thought the gargoyle had been headed in this direction when I’d reached out to him earlier.
Worry washed over me, snuffing out my happiness. It was just as dangerous for Grimley here as it was for me. Strixes were as common in Morta as gargoyles were in Andvari, and the birds wouldn’t take kindly to a strange creature flying through their city. Not to mention the Mortan guards who might spot the gargoyle and try to capture or kill him.
Grimley? I sent the thought out as far and wide as I could. Are you here? In Majesta?
That eerie, buzzing silence filled my mind again. More worry crashed through me. Maybe he was hurt. Maybe he’d been captured. Maybe the worst had happened, and he was dead—
Yes, the gargoyle’s gravelly voice whispered in my mind, a bit louder and stronger than before. Getting closer. Tired. Must rest now.
My breath escaped in a relieved rush. Once again, equal parts love and worry flowed through me, but I couldn’t stop him from coming here any more than Topacia could stop me from staying.
Be careful. I love you, bruiser. I sent the thought to Grimley.
I will. Love you too, runt.
“Well?” Topacia asked. “Is Grimley there?”
“He’s on his way,” I replied. “So what happened while I was in the mine?”
“When you didn’t come out for lunch like we had planned, I got worried, so I went to see the captain of the royal guard. I told him that you were inside the mine, but he didn’t believe me. Arrogant fool,” she grumbled. “Anyway, one of the guards said that several strixes had gathered in the plaza, so I rushed over there. The captain and his men followed me, and after the strixes left, we all went inside the mine.”
“What did you find?” I asked.
“The other miners had tied up Conley and his crew, and they told us how Conley had thrown you and that other woman into a chasm to hide the fact that he was stealing tearstone. Conley sang like a canary and confessed to everything. He’s currently in the Blauberg city prison, awaiting trial, along with his men.”
“Good. I hope you thanked Javier, the bone master who healed me. And Reiko, the dragon morph who helped rescue me.”
Topacia nodded. “I did thank Javier, but I don’t remember seeing a dragon morph.”
I frowned. Strange. Reiko was definitely memorable. I wondered what had happened to her, but I had other things to worry about. “How did my father and grandfather take the news?”
Topacia snorted. “Not well. After the yelling subsided, Prince Dominic and Captain Rhea dispatched some of the Glitnir palace guards to Blauberg. They should be here soon. Now that I know where you are, we can come and get you.”
“No. You know how tenuous the peace is between the two kingdoms. Sending Andvarian guards into Morta could start a war, especially if you all were captured or killed.”
Topacia threw up her hands in frustration. “Well, what would you have me do? I can’t just leave you there.”
“Stay put and wait for the Glitnir guards to arrive. In the meantime, keep nosing around Blauberg, and see if you can find out anything else about Wexel and his men. Leonidas thinks that the tearstone is here at Myrkvior, but Wexel could have taken it somewhere else. The captain might even be planning another attack along the border. As soon as I discover what Milo is plotting, I’ll slip out of the palace, find Grimley, and fly back to Blauberg.”
Topacia threw up her hands again and paced back and forth in front of the mirror, muttering to herself. After several seconds, her steps slowed, and she faced the glass again.
“All right,” she grumbled. “I’ll stay here, but only because I can’t come get you without making things worse.”
“Thank you, Topacia.”
She stabbed a finger at me. “But promise me that you will contact your father as soon as we’re done.”
“I promise. And don’t worry. Everything is going to be fine.”
Topacia tried to smile, but it was a grim, lopsided expression. “Please be careful, Gemma.”
“Aren’t I always?” I drawled.
My friend barked out a laugh. “Never.”
She was right about that, but my joke made some of the worry trickle out of her face. I nodded at her, then pulled the compact away from the mirror, breaking our connection. Topacia’s image flickered and faded away.
I sighed, but I had made her a promise, so I pressed the compact up to the vanity-table mirror again and asked to see my father’s study, since that was the most likely place for him to be this time of day. Magic flared, and a few seconds later, the room came into view.
My gaze traced over the ebony writing desk, bookcases, and other familiar furnishings. Like most royals, Father had his own Cardea mirror so that he could talk to the leaders of the other kingdoms, as well as nobles, merchants, guilders, and anyone else that he needed to in order to help Grandfather Heinrich rule Andvari.
“Father?” I called out. “Are you there?”
I’d barely finished speaking when footsteps sounded, and a man rushed into view. He was in his fifties with tan skin and the same blue eyes and dark brown hair that I had, although his locks were sprinkled with silver. He was wearing a dark gray jacket, and the Ripley royal crest—a snarling gargoyle face—gleamed in shiny black thread over his heart. He wasn’t sporting a crown, but he didn’t need to. Everyone in Andvari knew the face of Crown Prince Dominic Ripley.
“Gemma!” My father’s relief rippled through the mirror, even stronger than the waves of magic.
“Father.”
I kept my voice steady, but I had to blink back the tears stinging my eyes. Now was not the time to show any emotion, no matter how happy I was to see him. My father wouldn’t agree to my scheme if he thought I had any doubts.
Father leaned forward, peering at me. “Where are you?” He frowned. “And why are you wearing Mortan purple?”
I told him everything, from Conley shoving me into the chasm, to Leonidas saving me, to the deal I’d struck with the Morricone prince.
By the time I finished, Father was shaking his head no, no, no, a familiar, frustrating motion he always did whenever I wanted to do something he didn’t approve of, like my spy missions.
“You can’t be serious,” he said. “You can’t actually think staying at Myrkvior and spying on Milo Morricone is a good idea.”
I bristled at his chiding tone. “It’s an excellent idea. We’ll never get a better chance to learn about Milo’s plans. Besides, you’ve often wished you could plant an Andvarian spy in the Mortan court.”
Father grimaced. He and Grandfather Heinrich had had several conversations to that effect, and he didn’t like me using his own words against him.
“You need to find Grimley and come home at once, Gemma,” Father said in a deep, stern voice. “Majesta is perilous enough, and Myrkvior even more so. If anyone at the palace were to realize your true identity . . .” His voice trailed off. “Well, we both know how much the Morricones love torturing their enemies.”
This time, I was the one who grimaced. Yes, I did, thanks to the Seven Spire massacre.
“At this point, my best chance to find out what Milo is plotting and to return home safely is to work with Leonidas.”
Father harrumphed. “Trusting a Morricone is like trying to grab a lightning bolt. Even if you manage to latch onto it, you’re still going to get burned.”
He was probably right about that, especially given how Leonidas and I had tried to murder each other as children.
“Well, like it or not, I’m stuck with him. On the bright side, Leonidas doesn’t seem quite as cruel as the other Morricones. Besides, we both know that he has helped Aunt Evie in the past, including at the Regalia Games all those years ago.”
Father’s lips puckered with displeasure much the same way Maeven’s had earlier. He didn’t like me pointing out that fact either. “Yes, but that doesn’t mean he will help you now. Leonidas Morricone was a desperate boy when he aided Everleigh during the Regalia Games. He is all grown up and far more powerful and dangerous than he ever was back then.”
Leonidas was certainly strong in his magic, but I was equally formidable, at least when my power worked, something my father always seemed to forget, much to my frustration.
“Yes, Leonidas is powerful, but I am too. You and Rhea made sure of that, as did Alvis, Xenia, Uncle Lucas, and Aunt Evie.”
Father’s lips puckered again. He didn’t like those facts either. “No. Forget about the tearstone. Uncovering Milo’s scheme isn’t worth your life, Gemma.”
But he was wrong—it was worth my life. I hadn’t warned Uncle Frederich and the other Andvarians, and they had been slaughtered during the Seven Spire massacre. This was my chance to protect my people, to save lives, and to finally make up for my cowardice, for my weakness. Why couldn’t he understand that?
Father drew himself up to his full height and peered down his nose, giving me an official Crown Prince Dominic Ripley glower, the kind that made most people quake in their boots. “You will slip out of the palace, find Grimley, and head toward the Andvarian border immediately.”
This time, I shook my head no, no, no. “I can’t do that. I won’t.”
He peered down his nose at me again. “You forget that I am not just your father. I am also your crown prince, and I outrank you.”
I ground my teeth. We engaged in this same argument every time I went on one of my missions. True, this venture was by far the most dangerous I had ever attempted, but the potential reward was also so much greater, the kind of thing that could change our kingdom—for the better.
“And what about what is best for Andvari?” I snapped, my voice just as harsh as his. “For our people? Or would you prefer that I just stand idly by while Milo Morricone dreams up new and terrible ways to kill us all?”
Equal parts guilt and anger darkened his face, but I kept talking, trying to convince him.
“You and Grandfather Heinrich have been far more worried about the simmering tensions with Morta than you’ve let on.”
Father opened his mouth, probably to refute my claim, but I tapped my index finger on my heart. “I have felt how worried the two of you have been, and I’ve heard more than one stray thought from both you and Grandfather Heinrich wondering what the Morricones are plotting. Well, this is our chance to find out.”
“You are not a spy, Gemma,” he snapped. “No matter how much you would like to be one. You are a princess, the crown princess of Andvari. You are the future leader of our people, and you need to start acting like it!”
Anger surged through my body, sizzling like lightning trapped in my veins. “I am acting like it. Finding out what Milo is plotting is the best, most important thing I can do for our kingdom right now, and perhaps in my entire lifetime. Do you want to be blindsided when Milo finally decides to strike out at us? Do you want to explain to the families of the people he slaughters why we didn’t act sooner? Why we didn’t do everything in our power to thwart him? I thought our bloody duty as royals, as leaders, was to stop tragedies—not enable them.”
I had never spoken so harshly to my father, and he jerked back as though I had slapped him. He blinked at me in surprise, as though he had never seen me before.
“No, I don’t want that.” Some of the anger leaked out of his eyes. “But I love you, Gemma, and I don’t want to lose you the same way we lost Frederich at Seven Spire.”
His worry slipped through the mirror and stabbed me in the gut. Shame and regret bloomed in my heart like poisonous vines, throttling my own anger.
“I know, and I love you too,” I said in a softer, calmer voice. “But I’m not one of the Ripley royal crowns. You can’t keep me in a velvet box under lock and key and only bring me out to admire on special occasions.”
Father winced, but he didn’t disagree. If he and Grandfather Heinrich had had their way, I would have never set one foot outside of Glitnir after the massacre.
“I might be your daughter, but you said it yourself—I am also a princess. I want to do my duty and protect our people from the Morricones, no matter how dangerous it is. You and Grandfather Heinrich have always said nothing is more noble than doing one’s duty and sacrificing one’s happiness for the good of others. So let me do that. Let me live up to your example, to Grandfather’s example. Please.”
I sucked in a breath to keep arguing, but Father dropped his head and held up his hand, asking for quiet. So I perched on the edge of my seat and waited.
Several long, tense seconds passed before he raised his gaze to mine again. “Very well. Stay at Myrkvior, wait for Grimley, and spy on the Morricones in the meantime.”
Happiness flooded my heart. “Thank you, Father.”
He leaned forward and stabbed a finger at me. “But the second you find out what Milo Morricone is plotting, you slip out of the palace and start making your way home to Andvari. And if you think someone knows who you really are, then you forget about the tearstone and leave the palace immediately. That is a direct order from your crown prince. Understood?”
I didn’t like it, but he’d given me far more leeway than I’d expected. “Understood. I’ll be careful. I promise.”
“You’d better be,” he growled. Then his face softened again. “Please be safe, Gemma. I love you.”
“I will. And I love you too. I’ll contact you again as soon as I have any news.”
My father gave me a single, sharp nod, tears gleaming in his eyes. Similar tears stung my own eyes, but once again I blinked them back.
Father kept his gaze locked on my face as I leaned forward and moved the compact away from the mirror, breaking our connection. The glass rippled, and his face vanished, although the throbbing sting of his worry lingered in my heart.
Chapter Fifteen
It wasn’t even noon yet, but it had already been a long day, and I was physically and mentally exhausted. So I stuffed the silver compact into the pocket of my borrowed coat, then stumbled over to the bed, curled up on it, and went to sleep.
Sometime later, a knock sounded, startling me awake. One of the doors creaked open, and a servant girl dressed in a light purple tunic, along with black leggings and boots, poked her head inside the room. She
looked to be about thirteen, maybe fourteen, with gray eyes and rosy skin. Her black hair had been twisted up on top of her head, although a couple of long tendrils had escaped to frame her round face, which hadn’t yet lost its last bit of childish softness.
“Pardon me, my lady, but I am Anaka. Princess Delmira asked me to escort you to her chambers so you can dress for dinner.”
“Yes, of course,” I mumbled, my head still spinning with sleep as I got to my feet. “Lead the way.”
Anaka took me back to the strix rotunda and then into another wing of the palace. We stepped through an archway, and I felt as though we had entered another realm. Unlike the chilly, deserted hallways around Leonidas’s library, an army of servants flitted about here, polishing the vases and statues tucked away in various nooks, straightening the paintings and tapestries on the walls, and stoking the fires in the common rooms until the flames added the perfect amount of cheery, crackling warmth to the air.
Scores of palace stewards, nobles, merchants, and guilders also hustled through the corridors, and dozens of conversations trilled through the air. The gargoyle pendant hidden under my tunic grew warm against my skin, but I ignored the sensation and ducked my head, avoiding the curious stares that came my way.
I also kept an eye on the guards, but the men chatted to each other and ogled the pretty servants who raced by, just like the guards at Glitnir did. To everyone else, this was a normal day, but tension twisted my stomach into knots, and the space between my shoulder blades continually itched, as if in anticipation of someone plunging a blade into my back.
Anaka walked past some open doors. Music drifted out of the chambers, accompanied by the dulcet tones of someone singing a sweet melody.
My steps slowed. The song was a common one, but that beautiful voice sounded strangely familiar, as though I had heard the person sing before. Perhaps it was a minstrel or a music master who had visited Glitnir. Despite the simmering hostilities between Andvari and Morta, artisans often traveled between the two courts, as well as to courts in other kingdoms, seeking commissions from rich benefactors.
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