“Thank you, Lady Dumond,” Maeven replied in her deceptively pleasant tone, although she gave the other woman an icy glare, just like she had Corvina earlier.
Lady Dumond? I studied the other woman. She had the same auburn hair, rosy skin, and gray eyes that Corvina did, although she was at least twenty-five years older, in her late fifties, like Maeven was. She had to be Lady Emperia, Corvina’s mother and the current head of the Dumond family.
I shifted in my chair, even more uneasy. The Dumonds were known to be just as cruel as the Morricones, and I couldn’t afford to draw their attention either.
“Tell me, Delmira, who is your guest?” Emperia turned her attention to me.
I silently cursed myself. Sometimes I thought that my magic enjoyed playing tricks on me. More often than not, every time I thought about someone, that person immediately zoomed in on me, like a gargoyle streaking toward its prey.
Everyone stared at me. Maeven, Milo, Corvina, Emperia, Delmira, Leonidas. I was swimming in a sticky soup of enemies. I just hoped I didn’t end up boiled alive like a lobster before the end of the evening.
“This is Lady Armina from Ravensrock,” Delmira said. “She was attacked by bandits, but Leonidas was nearby and rescued her.”
Emperia’s gaze sharpened. “How very lucky.”
“More like incredibly romantic,” Delmira pronounced, giving me a sly look. “Just like something out of a storybook.”
Perhaps if that storybook involved stolen tearstone, dozens of murders, numerous betrayals, and the attempted and almost successful assassinations of both Leonidas and myself. Not to mention my being kidnapped and taken to a foreign palace where I was surrounded by enemies, all of whom would dearly love to see me dead. Including my aforementioned rescuer, the prince, my childhood nemesis, who had grown up into a strangely fascinating, delectably handsome man.
I didn’t know of any storybooks like that, though. Perhaps Delmira had one in her chambers that I could borrow to pass the time—after I was exposed and thrown in the dungeon.
“So you’re Leonidas’s newest stray pet,” Milo sneered at me.
Anger spurted through me at being called a bloody pet, but Crown Prince Milo outranked Lady Armina, so I kept a bland smile fixed on my face.
Milo leaned forward, as though he was imparting some great secret to me. “Leonidas likes to invite people to the palace. Commoners, mostly. People with little magic and dubious talents that they peddle as high art. Paint masters, sculptors, minstrels, even a few so-called poets.” He shuddered, as though the last word was the most horrific thing he had ever encountered.
Milo leaned back and waved his hand in an airy, dismissive motion. “People with small, trite skills that Leonidas thinks are more important and valuable than they truly are. They all tend to leave the palace rather quickly.” A cruel light glinted in his eyes. “Especially the women. I suppose my brother isn’t particularly talented in certain areas himself.”
Beside me, Leonidas stiffened, and his anger spiked through my mind. “I invite artisans to the palace so that the nobles, merchants, and everyone else can see the best of what Morta has to offer. Those paint masters, sculptors, minstrels, and so-called poets are our kingdom’s future, and they should be treated and nurtured as such.”
Milo sneered at his brother the same way he had at me. “People making cheap trinkets and composing ridiculous songs isn’t going to help Morta’s standing among the other kingdoms.”
“What do you think will help Morta’s standing?”
The question popped out of my mouth before I could stop it, although the second the words came out, I cursed my own foolishness. Stupid, stupid, Gemma! My tongue and my temper had gotten the better of me, the way they so often did.
Milo’s eyes narrowed, and he studied me more closely. My heart quickened with dread. If he recognized me, then I wouldn’t leave this table alive.
And he wasn’t the only one staring. Corvina and Emperia were both peering at me, while Delmira was looking at me with wide eyes. Even Maeven was studying me, her lips puckered in thought.
Milo shrugged. “Building up our army and navy. Breeding larger and more aggressive and vicious strixes. Coming up with new ways to defend our borders, expand our holdings, and assert ourselves.”
And my new weapon. Once again, I didn’t have to reach out with my magic. His thought slammed into my mind like a tidal wave, along with smaller ripples of smug satisfaction that made my stomach churn.
A weapon? Oh, I knew Milo hadn’t stolen all that tearstone just to make jewelry with it, but his unrelenting smugness gave me the sense he was thinking about something far more dangerous than typical swords, daggers, and shields. What new horror had he created?
“Well, I agree with Leonidas.” Delmira waded into the dangerous conversational waters. “Inviting artisans to Myrkvior is a wonderful idea.”
Milo snorted and gave another dismissive hand wave. “What would you know about art or anything else? You barely have enough magic to fill a teacup.”
Delmira’s eyes narrowed, and she sucked in a breath as if to deliver some insult. Milo arched an eyebrow and stared at his sister, clearly daring her to say something. Delmira’s gaze flicked to Corvina and Emperia, who were now sneering at her instead of me.
The princess just . . . wilted, much the same way Corvina had earlier under Maeven’s icy glower. Delmira’s face twisted into a defeated, miserable expression, her shoulders sagged, and she dropped her head, although not before I saw the sheen of tears in her eyes.
Why do I have to be so bloody weak? So broken? Why can’t I be strong like Mother always is?
Her thoughts whispered in my mind, and I thought of the testing table in her chambers. It seemed as though the princess was still trying to find her magic, as well as her place in the palace.
Sympathy flooded my heart, washing away the nauseating feel of Milo’s cruel smugness. Below the table, out of sight of the others, I reached over and squeezed her hand. Delmira didn’t lift her head, but she curled her fingers into mine.
Milo turned his attention back to me. “And what magic or skills do you have, Lady Armina?”
“I make jewelry.”
“What kind of jewelry?” Corvina’s eyes brightened with interest. “Are you a metalstone master?”
“I have a small bit of metalstone magic. It helps me shape the pieces, although I’m not strong enough to actually infuse my magic into the gems.”
It was the same general story Leonidas had told about me earlier, but I put my own touches on it, polishing it into a better version the same way I would polish a necklace in Alvis’s workshop. I really could make jewelry, although my pieces were serviceable at best, since I didn’t have any metalstone magic.
The interest vanished from Corvina’s face. “Not even strong enough to put beauty glamours into your designs? Well, that makes them—and you—rather inferior.”
She probably thought her insult was so devastating that it would leave me in tears, perhaps even send me running from the table, but a low, mocking laugh erupted from my lips instead. Scores of people had called me far worse things than inferior. Corvina needed to up her viciousness if she wanted to wound me.
Corvina glared at me. Magic crackled in her eyes, reminding me that I needed to be just as careful of her as I did of Milo.
“Yes, well, I suppose that I am rather inferior when it comes to my magic,” I said in a diplomatic voice, trying to smooth things over. “Although I’ve never cared much about what other people think of me, as long as they buy my jewelry designs.”
“Then you’re a fool,” Emperia said. “Reputation can make—or break—you in an instant.”
“Oh, I doubt that Lady Armina is a fool,” Maeven murmured, finally joining the conversation. “She seems like the sort who has very surprising, unexpected depths.”
My heart froze, suddenly as cold as the mango-flavored ice I had eaten earlier. Had Maeven guessed my secret? Did she know who I really was?
I stared at the queen, who looked right back at me, an unreadable expression on her face. Somehow, I managed to keep my own features calm, even as the ice cracked off my heart, which started galloping around like a runaway Floresian stallion in my chest.
“Several jewelers have invaded Myrkvior in recent days, but none with such an interesting story as you, Lady Armina,” Maeven continued. “My earlier offer stands. You must make a piece for Delmira. I could also use a new trinket. After all, it is my birthday tomorrow.”
I bowed my head, staring at my crumpled napkin and desperately trying to gather my thoughts. “Of course, Your Majesty. I would be honored to make pieces for you and your daughter.”
I lifted my head and attempted to smile at Maeven, but my face must have betrayed my wariness, because Emperia and Corvina both snickered. They enjoyed watching the queen put me on the spot, because they knew what an extremely perilous place it was to be.
Maeven ignored their laughter, tossed her own napkin onto the table, and stood up.
Delmira shot to her feet, as did Leonidas. I followed suit, as did everyone else seated at this table and all the others around the room. Milo hesitated, as did Corvina and Emperia, but the three of them also rose, albeit far more slowly than everyone else.
“I have some work to attend to.” Maeven’s voice didn’t seem overly loud, but it still boomed through the throne room. “Thank you all for your kind sentiments and such a lovely birthday dinner. Please, stay and enjoy yourselves.”
Once again, her gaze locked with mine, and her lips puckered, as though she didn’t particularly like what she saw. Maeven stared at me a moment longer, then strode away.
The queen might be leaving, but strangely enough, I felt as though I were in more danger than ever before.
Chapter Eighteen
As soon as Maeven left, everyone in the throne room relaxed. The servants passed out more wine, and the nobles, merchants, and other guests started drinking, gossiping, and laughing. Everyone was taking the queen’s order to enjoy themselves to heart.
Milo didn’t even glance at his siblings. Instead, he and Corvina drifted away, talking to Emperia, who gestured for some other nobles to join them. Delmira and Leonidas both eyed the group, concern creasing their faces.
“I should go check on Mother.” Delmira paused, then her face brightened, as though the most wonderful idea had just occurred to her. “Leo, why don’t you escort Armina back to her chambers?”
She made the suggestion in a neutral tone, but her lips curved up into a sly smile. I bit back a groan at her trying to play matchmaker again. The last thing I needed to do was spend more time with Leonidas. He was my enemy just as much as Maeven was, something I desperately needed to remember, especially since he could do far more damage to me. The queen could only kill me once, but the prince . . . Well, I didn’t want to even think about the much deeper wounds he could inflict on my mind and especially on my heart.
“I would be delighted to escort Lady Armina.” Leonidas offered me his arm. “If I may?”
“Of course, Your Highness.” I threaded my arm through his, trying not to notice how his muscles bunched and flexed under my light touch.
Delmira winked at me, and I rolled my eyes, telling her that I knew exactly what she was doing. “Don’t forget that you and Lady Reiko promised to have breakfast with me tomorrow.”
“I’m sure Lady Reiko is looking forward to it just as much as I am.”
Reiko was chatting with a noble a few feet away, but her gaze flicked in my direction, as if she’d heard me say her name. I tipped my head to the dragon morph, who ignored me in return. And that was the last I saw of her before Leonidas led me out of the throne room.
Several people had drifted outside the chamber and were clustered in small groups, drinking, laughing, and gossiping. Leonidas nodded to a few folks, but he led me past them without stopping. Soon, we were in a hallway by ourselves. The second we were alone, I untangled my arm from his and stepped back.
“What’s wrong? You don’t like being escorted by me?” he asked in a dry, sardonic tone.
I shot him an angry glare. “I don’t like sitting within arm’s reach of your mother. Not to mention your brother. It’s difficult to spy on someone after he’s seen your face.”
Leonidas shrugged. “Milo thinks you’re a jeweler with a negligible amount of metalstone magic. He’ll have forgotten your name by the time he downs his next drink.”
He was probably right, given how Milo had sneered at me, but I couldn’t help but think of how Maeven had stared at me during dinner. Unless I was gravely mistaken, the queen hadn’t believed my lies, and she knew that I didn’t belong here. The sooner I found the tearstone, the sooner I could leave, and the safer I would be from all the Morricones, including Leonidas.
Especially Leonidas.
A thought occurred to me. “How long will Milo stay in the throne room?”
Leonidas shrugged again. “Probably until the bitter end. Milo fancies himself a great politician. He doesn’t realize that the nobles tolerate him simply because they know he’s going to be their king someday.”
This farce will be over soon enough. Corvina’s earlier thought drifted through my mind. Perhaps Corvina and her fiancé wanted that someday to get here sooner rather than later. Milo seemed to have no love for either Leonidas or Delmira, and I doubted the crown prince would let his mother stand in his way either.
A shiver swept through my body. I had no desire to be trapped in Myrkvior should such a coup take place. Oh, yes. The sooner I found the tearstone, the more likely my head stayed attached to my shoulders.
“Where is Milo’s workshop?” I asked.
Understanding filled Leonidas’s face. “You want to search his workshop right now, while he’s still at the dinner.”
“Well, I certainly can’t search it while he’s in there. Don’t you want to see what your brother is hiding?”
His eyes glittered with a cold, calculating light. “Absolutely.”
* * *
Leonidas took my arm again, and we ambled through the palace as though we were out for a simple after-dinner stroll. We passed dozens of couples doing the same thing, as well as a few in shadowy alcoves who were engaged in far more . . . vigorous activities. The grunts, moans, and gasps of pleasure made me even more aware of my arm tangled up with Leonidas’s, his muscles flexing under my fingertips and our bodies swaying together as we walked along.
Leonidas cleared his throat, as though he were as uncomfortable as I was. “Come, Lady Armina,” he said, opening a door. “Let me show you the rookery.”
A few people nearby eyed us, and one man openly snickered as though showing me the rookery was code for fucking me senseless. I ignored the laughing noble, and Leonidas steered me outside and shut the door behind us.
We stepped into a courtyard covered with thick strands of liladorn, and Leonidas led me toward a fountain bubbling in the center. Once we had rounded it, he glanced back over his shoulder. The light and noise from the palace had faded away, leaving the two of us standing in the silent, silvery moonlight.
Leonidas turned toward me. Startled, I lurched back, and my heel hit one of the vines that had snaked across the flagstones. I stumbled sideways and would have fallen if Leonidas hadn’t grabbed me around the waist and yanked me back toward him. I instinctively reached out, fisting my hands in the front of his jacket.
We both froze, staring into each other’s eyes. His hands curled around my waist, the heat of his palms scorching my skin even through the thick fabric of my dress. My fingertips tingled in response, not from any magic, but simply from his strong, muscled body so close to my own, his warm breath caressing my cheeks, and his honeysuckle scent sinking deeper and deeper into my lungs with every ragged breath I took.
Leonidas stared down at me with an unreadable expression, his face cold and calm, although his eyes betrayed him. Emotions flashed like lightning strikes in his amethyst gaze—hunger, desire, and a raw,
aching need that made every part of me clench with anticipation.
His gaze dropped to my lips, and his hands tightened. The motion was almost imperceptible, and he didn’t draw me any closer, but I felt as though I were standing in a high, high tower, about to step off the side and fall into . . . Well, I wasn’t quite sure what.
My destruction, most likely.
A bit of self-preservation rose up inside me, breaking the strange spell his eyes and the moonlight had cast, and I yanked myself out of his arms. This time, I avoided the vines and stepped back without tripping. I started to take another step back, but my heel brushed up against another liladorn vine—one that hadn’t been there a moment ago.
I froze again, staring down at the vine. It seemed to be moving ever so slightly, as though it was trying to nudge me back toward Leonidas.
What are you doing? I sent the thought out to the vine, wondering if it could actually hear me, if it was actually aware enough to understand my words.
Helping, a soft voice rasped back to me.
Helping? How? By playing matchmaker like Delmira had earlier? No, that was ridiculous. Why would the vines care about my love life? Unless . . . they were somehow mirroring Delmira’s thoughts and desires, or doing what they thought she wanted them to. No, that idea seemed even more ridiculous. It was far more likely that being in Myrkvior was slowly but surely driving me mad.
Madness might be preferable to the desire still surging through my body.
The vine slithered toward me again. I jerked my foot away from it and moved over to an open space in the courtyard, as far away from the liladorn as I could get.
Leonidas frowned. “Is something wrong?”
I shook my head, not wanting to admit that the vines had spoken to me. “No.”
Disbelief flickered across his face, but he jerked his head. “The rookery is this way.”
I eyed the vines again, making sure they were going to leave me alone, then followed him.
Leonidas led me out the far side of the courtyard and through several more. He didn’t speak, and neither did I, and the only sounds were our footsteps scuffing across the flagstones. At one point, we passed the throne room. Leonidas paused and stared in through the windows. I peered inside too.
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