Capture the Crown

by Jennifer Estep

  I started to yank my hand out of hers, but Reiko tightened her grip, and anger flared in her eyes.

  “I didn’t say that. I would never say or think that, and neither should you. Not for one bloody second. You were, what, twelve when the massacre happened? You were just a child, Gemma.”

  “That’s no excuse,” I muttered.

  Reiko dropped my hand and poked me in the chest, right over my heart. “You don’t need an excuse. You weren’t the one who decided to slaughter a royal family. That was Maeven and Maximus. Nothing that happened on that day is your fault. Hasn’t anyone ever told you that?”

  My father and grandfather had, countless times, along with Rhea. So had Xenia and Alvis. And Uncle Lucas and Aunt Evie. But I had always felt like they were telling me what I wanted to hear and not what they truly believed deep down in their hearts. Maybe that was irrational, especially since I could hear their thoughts and sense their emotions, but then again, nothing about my feelings about the massacre, or especially about my magic, had ever been rational.

  “As for not being able to control your power . . .” Reiko’s voice trailed off, and she shrugged. “I don’t have an answer for that. The only thing I can say is that it’s your magic. The power might be your own version of an inner dragon, but it belongs to you and you alone. You decide what to do with your magic—no one else. Maybe sometimes you need to take a look back into the past. Or freeze up. Or even be completely, utterly out of control. That doesn’t make you weak or defective or a coward. It makes you human, Gemma, just like the rest of us.”

  It was perhaps the strangest encouragement I had ever received, but one that was surprisingly effective. Her no-nonsense tone and words actually made me feel a little better, like I wasn’t as much of a coward or nearly as out of control as I’d thought.

  “Thank you,” I said in a soft voice.

  “You’re welcome.” Reiko grimaced and shifted on her feet. “You might be amused to know that a servant informed me earlier that Queen Maeven is not interested in my jewelry designs and that I am to leave the palace first thing in the morning.”

  She let out a rueful laugh. “Pretending to be a miner was easy enough, but you were right. I should have learned more about making jewelry before I tried to pass myself off as a metalstone master.”

  I cupped my hand around my ear as though I hadn’t heard her. “What? What did you say about my being right?”

  Reiko rolled her eyes. “You heard me just fine, princess.” She took another sip of her punch. “So what happens now?”

  “I’m going to slip out of the ball, leave the palace, and never look back. You should do the same.” I paused. “You should come with me—to Andvari.”

  She blinked in surprise.

  “I told my father about you,” I said, rushing to fill the awkward silence that had sprung up between us. “He’s happy to offer you protection at Glitnir.”

  “In exchange for what?” she asked in a wary voice.

  “Of course, my father would love to hear everything you know about the Morricones and Andvari’s other enemies.” I cleared my throat. “But he mainly wants you to come because he thinks that you’re my friend.”

  She blinked again, as though friend wasn’t a word she was used to hearing. “Friend, eh? I would have said rival.”

  I snorted. “Of course you would.”

  Reiko studied me over the rim of her goblet again, considering my offer. After a few seconds of silent contemplation, she shook her head. “I have my own queen to report to. One royal is enough to deal with. I don’t need to add a king to the mix.”

  Disappointment filled me, but I understood. Reiko had her kingdom and people to protect, just as I had mine. “Either way, I’m going to miss our talks.”

  “Me too,” she murmured. “Good luck, Gemma. Perhaps our paths will cross again someday.”

  “I hope so.”

  I held out my forearm to her, and she clasped it just as she had done in the library earlier. We both let go, although she pressed something into my hand. Reiko nodded to me, then melted into the crowd.

  I opened my fingers. The tearstone arrow from Milo’s workshop glittered in my palm. She had returned it to me, just like she’d promised. I smiled and slipped it into my pocket.

  A bargain made, and a bargain kept.

  * * *

  Now that I had warned Reiko, nothing else was keeping me here, so I moved away from the column, heading toward the open doors in the distance. I was only about fifty feet away from them when I felt a familiar presence behind me, as soft as a feather tickling the back of my neck. I stiffened and stopped, right there in the middle of the ball, but he didn’t approach me, and somehow, I knew that he wouldn’t, not unless I turned around.

  That old, familiar battle raged inside me. Past betrayal versus current attraction. Attempted childhood murder versus adult salvation. And a whole tangle of other things that I couldn’t put names to, not without giving them even more strength and power. The battle was over in an instant, if it had ever truly been one at all. More like a slow, inescapable, inevitable slide toward doom and destruction.

  I turned around.

  Leonidas stood in front of me.

  The sight of him stole my breath, as quickly and easily as a thief plucking a jewel from a lady’s necklace. His black hair gleamed underneath the colored fluorestones, as did his amethyst eyes, which were so dark they almost looked black. A long, formal midnight-purple coat with silver buttons shaped like flying strixes stretched across his broad shoulders and outlined his muscled chest. The Morricone crest was stitched in silver thread over his heart, but for once, I ignored it.

  Leonidas gave me a low, deep bow, then straightened and held out his hand. “May I have this dance?”

  Whispers surged all around us. Several people had seen the prince approach me and were avidly watching us. I glanced over at the open doors that were so tantalizingly close. Despite my need to escape, I couldn’t not dance with Leonidas. That would attract even more attention, which was the last thing I wanted.

  And you want to dance with him anyway, a treacherous little voice whispered in the back of my mind. I ignored it too.

  Instead, I smiled, stepped forward, and placed my hand in his. “I would be honored to dance with you.” I paused. “Leo.”

  Satisfaction flared in his eyes, and he tightened his grip on my fingers. Leonidas led me over to the center of the room, which was being used as a dance floor, and I stepped into the warm, strong circle of his arms. He curled one hand around my waist, lightly holding me, while his other hand cupped mine. He wasn’t wearing gloves, and the feel of his skin against my own made me shiver.

  And then we danced.

  The musicians played a classic Mortan waltz that started at a slow, dreamy pace. For the first section, Leonidas and I stared into each other’s eyes, and one sensation after another cascaded through my body, like a series of locks opening on a treasury door. Each release further lowered my defenses and brought me even closer to him.

  The light press of his fingers against mine. The heat of his hand soaking through the fabric of my gown. His breath kissing my cheeks. The soft aroma of his honeysuckle soap wafting over me. But most of all, I felt him, the soft, feathery, electric presence that was uniquely Leonidas. It wrapped around me like a warm, comforting cloak, flowing and ebbing right alongside my own presence, my own power, my own magic.

  It was one of the most thrilling things I had ever experienced.

  The waltz ramped up into a much faster reel, and Leonidas and I started whirling, twirling, and spinning with the music. Together, apart, and back again. Every time we touched, more passion simmered in my veins, and every caress of his hand against my own made my fingertips tingle. Every time I whirled away, I felt the aching loss of his presence, although it vanished the second I twirled back into his arms.

  I was vaguely aware of other people leaving the dance floor to watch us, but for once, I didn’t care that everyone was star
ing. All that mattered was this dance. It was the last moment I would ever have with him, and I wanted to remember it always.

  Everything else could wait, even my escape.

  Finally, the music slowed and softened, falling back down into the initial waltz pattern. Leonidas held out his hand again, and I stepped back into his embrace. He gripped me more tightly this time, as though I were made of the same soft, dreamy notes as the music, and he didn’t want me to slip away. I gripped him back just as tightly. I didn’t want to lose him either.

  The music eased to a stop, and Leonidas lowered me into a deep dip. The last notes whispered away, but we remained frozen in place, staring into each other’s eyes. Heat shimmered like lightning strikes in his gaze, and he pulled me even closer. Desire sizzled through my body, burning so bright and hot I thought sparks might start shooting out of my fingertips, even though I wasn’t a lightning magier—

  Someone started clapping.

  I flinched, as did Leonidas. I had been so wrapped up in him that I’d forgotten where we were—and exactly how many people were watching us.

  He straightened and pulled me up. He dropped his arm from around my waist, although he kept holding my hand. The unexpected touch both surprised and pleased me.

  I glanced around. Nobles and servants ringed the dance floor, along with several guards, and Leonidas and I were the center of attention. Worry snaked through my stomach. Those guards hadn’t been here earlier.

  The nobles and servants parted, and Maeven stepped into view, still clapping as she stopped at the edge of the dance floor.

  Her stunning gown was the darkest purple imaginable and looked as soft as a velvet cloud wisping around her body. A silver choker studded with amethysts circled her throat, while matching bracelets and rings were stacked up on her wrists and fingers like usual. All the gems practically dripped with her lightning magic. The same silver liladorn crown I’d seen in her portrait earlier perched on her head, and the tangle of diamond vines, jet thorns, and amethyst spikes of lilac seemed to reach all the way up to the paper strixes dangling from the ceiling.

  Still clapping, Maeven glanced over at Milo, who was standing on the opposite side of the dance floor. The crown prince was wearing a short, formal midnight-purple jacket trimmed with gold thread, and the Morricone royal crest once again covered his chest.

  Emperia and Corvina were standing on either side of Milo, both wearing scarlet gowns, with rubies glinting in their auburn hair.

  I kept glancing around the throne room. Delmira was hovering next to Maeven, a worried look on her face, and she kept twisting her liladorn ring around and around on her finger.

  Finally, I spotted Wexel, who was also wearing a formal dark purple jacket with a small Morricone crest done in gold thread over his heart. The captain was standing close to Milo, with several guards flanking him, but far more guards were stationed on the other side of the room, behind Maeven. Cold dread trickled down my spine. What was going on?

  Maeven finally stopped clapping. “What a wonderful performance. The two of you move so well together. Then again, I would expect nothing less, given the many lessons you’ve both had.”

  That cold dread trickled down my spine again, turning into a larger stream of worry. How could Maeven possibly know how many dance lessons I’d had?

  Beside me, Leonidas let out a soft, resigned sigh. So much emotion was packed into that one, small sound, and he dropped his head as though struggling to contain his feelings. He let out another sigh, then lifted his head, his face once again schooled into a blank, remote mask.

  What’s going on? I silently asked him.

  He looked at me. I’m sorry, Gemma.

  The sound of my own name slammed into my heart like the sharpest sword. Gemma—he had called me Gemma, which meant he knew exactly who I was. When—how had he figured it out?

  Leonidas released my hand and stepped away from me. Cool air swirled in between us, slapping me across the face. He’d known who I really was, yet he had let me prance around and pretend to be someone else. Anger, embarrassment, and shame burned in my cheeks, while bitterness cloaked my heart. I wasn’t a princess. I wasn’t a spy.

  I was nothing but a bloody fool.

  Maeven stared at me, a pleased smile curving her lips, then looked out over the nobles, servants, and guards gathered around the dance floor. Her gaze lingered on Milo, Emperia, and Corvina, then flicked over to Wexel. I reached out with my magic, and I finally skimmed a thought from Maeven’s mind.

  Fools.

  It was only one word, one thought, but it was filled with so much smug satisfaction and malevolent glee that it made me want to vomit. Maeven knew all about the plots against her, and this was her moment to play capture-the-crown—and win yet again.

  “Thank you all so much for coming to my birthday ball,” the queen purred, more smug satisfaction leaking into her words. “I can’t believe it’s been sixteen years since I took the throne. Here’s to sixteen more!”

  The guests clapped politely, as did the servants, although Wexel and his men kept their hands on their swords. Wexel eyed the second, larger group of guards, who glared right back at him, their hands also on their weapons.

  Maeven waited until the applause died down before addressing the crowd again. “Some of you haven’t always been pleased with my rule. Some of you think I’ve gotten soft and weak in recent years, but I assure you that is not the case.”

  She aimed her last few words at Milo, who grimaced at the pointed barbs.

  “Many of you have brought me presents tonight. For that, I thank you,” Maeven said. “But I wanted to break with tradition, and give you all a gift as well. Something that wouldn’t have been possible without my son’s assistance. Leonidas, please step forward.”

  Leonidas strode over to stand by his mother’s side. He looked at me again, his face even colder and more distant than before, as though we were total strangers, and he was more statue than man. No, he wasn’t a statue, he was a bloody weapon, one that had cut me to shreds. I had just been too stupid to see and feel the sly blows, and now he was going to deliver the killing strike.

  “On my orders, Prince Leonidas has been investigating various plots against me, against you and Morta and everything we hold dear,” she continued, once again staring at Milo.

  The crown prince’s lips pressed into a tight, thin line. He hadn’t thought that his mother knew about his machinations, but it was obvious now that she did. Anger stained his cheeks, and magic shimmered in his eyes, making them burn a dark, dangerous purple.

  Emperia remained glued to Milo’s side, but Corvina sidled away from her fiancé.

  Worry creased Wexel’s forehead, along with a fine sheen of sweat, and he glanced back and forth between Milo and Maeven.

  “During his investigation, Leonidas uncovered the identities of numerous spies, several of whom are here tonight,” Maeven continued.

  My heart sank. I glanced around the throne room again, but I didn’t see Reiko anywhere. Maybe she had already left, but if not, I needed to warn her.

  Reiko! I sent the thought out as far and wide as I could. Maeven knows you’re a spy. Get out of the palace. Now!

  Something flickered in my mind. It might have been surprise, but it was gone in an instant, like smoke wisping through the air, and I couldn’t tell if she had heard me.

  “Normally, I would have spies executed at once, but Leonidas came up with a much better suggestion. Isn’t that right?” the queen purred again.

  “I promised to bring you a grand birthday present. I thought a spy would be a good start. How do you like it?” Leonidas stabbed his finger at me.

  Even though I knew they were coming, his words still slammed into my heart, burning as hot as a magier’s lightning. My hands fisted in my skirt, although I managed to keep my face as cold and impassive as his still was.

  “Her?” Milo sneered. “She’s your grand present? Your big reveal? So what if she’s a spy?”

  Instead of re
buking her son for interrupting, Maeven’s smile widened. Milo didn’t realize it yet, but he’d just lost his seat in this twisted version of capture-the-crown.

  “Oh, she’s much more than just a mere spy,” Maeven said. “Show them.”

  Leonidas snapped up his hand and sent out a wave of magic. He took me by surprise, and I grimaced, knowing I was too late to block his attack. Only it wasn’t an attack. Instead of punching me in the stomach or slapping me across the face, an invisible hand yanked the silver chain around my neck out from underneath my gown.

  My gargoyle pendant thumped against my chest, out in the open for everyone to see.

  “See that pretty gargoyle hanging around her neck? The Ripley royal crest, the symbol of Morta’s enemy, should be as familiar to every one of you as it is to me.” Maeven swept her hand out at me. “Let me introduce you all to Gemma Ripley, the crown princess of Andvari.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Shocked gasps rang out, and everyone stared at me, surprise filling most of their faces.

  Most, but not all.

  Of course Maeven wasn’t surprised, and neither was Leonidas. But there was one other person who wasn’t shocked by my true identity—Delmira.

  Her face was pale, and she kept twisting her liladorn ring around on her finger. Worry blasted off her, but not so much as a flicker of surprise. I remembered how nervous she had seemed earlier and how she had dragged me around the throne room, instead of letting me drift away. Delmira had also known my true identity. I wondered if Leonidas and Maeven had told her or if she’d figured it out on her own.

  The princess hadn’t betrayed me nearly as badly as her brother had, but a surprising amount of hurt spiked through me all the same. I really had thought we were friends. Delmira tried to smile at me, but her expression wilted under my icy glare.

  Milo, Emperia, and Corvina looked as stunned as everyone else, as did Wexel. At least I’d fooled some people here. Unfortunately for me, I was still going to die.