Capture the Crown

by Jennifer Estep

  I had always thought of my mind magier power like a storm brewing in my mind. One that came and went, ebbed and flowed, intensified and lessened just like actual storm clouds in the sky. Something I had little control over and preferred not to think about or use unless absolutely necessary. Well, it was definitely necessary now, and I dove headlong into that storm in my mind, plunging down, down, down into its depths like never before.

  It was difficult, so very, very difficult, but the noise, chaos, and commotion in the plaza slowly receded, even as my magic grew in commensurate measure. Not only could I feel my own power bubbling up inside my body, but I could feel the energy in everyone and everything around me, from the whistle of the guards’ swords through the air, to the bulge and strain of the miners’ muscles as they tried to defend themselves, to the water still gurgling in the ruined fountain. In an instant, I could sense all that and so much more.

  A Mortan guard charged at me. I reached for my magic and yanked on those invisible strings of energy. He flew through the air and slammed into the cart that Milo had thrown me into, completely splintering the wood with his heavier weight.

  Another guard charged at me, and I tossed him aside as well. And then another. And then another. One by one, they all sailed through the air, away from me and the innocent people they were trying to kill.

  Blocking out everyone’s thoughts and feelings and still using my magic at the same time was much, much harder than I’d thought it would be. More than once, my resolve wavered, and I almost drowned in the sea of noise and emotions roiling around in my mind. But the harder I concentrated, and the harder I fought, the easier it became.

  And I realized something important, something that so many people had tried to tell me, something that I should have known all along. My magic might be a storm, but it wasn’t caused by other people’s thoughts and feelings. Not really, not fully. No, that storm of emotion was all mine. My power, my feelings, my love and pain and rage.

  I was the true storm.

  Unpredictable. Uncontrollable. Unstoppable.

  “The princess is pushing them back!”

  “Rally to her!”

  “Gemma! Gemma! Gemma!”

  One by one, shouts rang out, and people’s fear receded, washed away by something much, much stronger—hope. That hope buoyed my own spirits, my own magic, and I strode forward, heading toward the Mortans instead of away from them. The miners, merchants, and shoppers grabbed the dead guards’ swords and went on the offensive, attacking the rest of the Mortans.

  I had just tossed another guard through the air when I spotted a flash of purple out of the corner of my eye. I whirled around.

  Milo was standing in front of me, a disgusted look on his face. “You’re a fucking mind magier, just like Leonidas is. No wonder he’s so fascinated by you.” A cruel smile curved his lips. “I wonder what he’ll think when I kill you.”

  My gaze cut to the left. In the distance, on the refinery roof, Leonidas was still sitting atop Lyra, both of them looking tense. His gaze locked with mine, and I remembered what he had said to me in the woods so long ago.

  You’re soft and weak . . . soft and weak . . . soft and weak . . .

  Leonidas had chanted that at me over and over again. Not to hurt, mock, or tear me down, like I’d thought back then. No, he’d been trying to enrage me, to get me to embrace my mind magier magic, to use it to save myself, and Xenia and Alvis. And I realized something else that I should have known all along. My magic might not always work the way I wanted it to, but I always had the power to act, to fight, to battle until my last breath.

  “Time to die, Glitzma,” Milo sneered.

  He hurled another round of lightning at me. This bolt had more magic than all the others, and I could see it growing and growing as it streaked toward me. But instead of trying to get out of the way of the killing strike, I reached for my own magic, snapped up my hand, and curled my fingers into a fist, yanking tight on all those invisible strings of power.

  The lightning bolt stopped in midair, inches away from my heart.

  I stared at the mass of magic hovering in front of me. The lightning kept spitting, hissing, and crackling, like a coral viper trying to twist, turn, and wrench its way out of a gargoyle’s mouth. Milo was by far the strongest enemy I had ever faced, and he was just as powerful in his magic as I was in mine. Sweat poured down my face, and my entire body shook from the strain of holding back so much hot, deadly, electric force.

  “You think you can stop me? Never!” Milo yelled.

  He hurled another bolt of lightning at me. Then another one, then another one.

  Somehow, I managed to grab on to all those invisible strings of energy, and I stopped each and every bolt, although they all kept dancing and crackling in front of me, like wayward kites I was trying to wrestle in a tornado.

  Surprise flickered across Milo’s face, and he actually took a step back, as if he couldn’t believe that I was holding on to so much magic at once.

  I should have done more. I should have fought harder. Once again, Alvis’s voice echoed in my mind, quickly followed by Xenia’s. Fucking traitors. I’ll kill as many of them as I can. Maybe Gemma can live, even if Alvis and I can’t.

  I was fighting harder than I had ever fought, but the battle wasn’t won yet, so I gritted my teeth and tightened my grip on all those strings of magic. I drew in a breath to steady myself.

  Then I screamed and threw every last one of Milo’s lightning bolts right back at him.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Milo’s eyes widened, and he lurched to the side. He managed to avoid most of the lightning, but one of the bolts punched into his right hand, making him scream. He whipped around and tossed another bolt at me, but I threw that one back at him too, punching the power through his left hand.

  The crown prince screamed again and clutched his hands to his chest, his skin burned, blackened, and smoking from his own power.

  I held up my bandaged hands and waggled my fingers at him. “Now we’re even,” I hissed.

  Milo snarled and raised his hand to try to hit me with his lightning again, but Wexel grabbed the prince’s arm, jerking him back.

  “Let’s go!” Wexel yelled. “Before she kills us all!”

  Milo tried to lunge at me again, but Wexel kept dragging him back toward a waiting strix. My hands curled into fists, and I stepped forward, determined to kill them both—

  A lightning bolt slammed into the ground at my feet, shattering the flagstones and making me stagger back.

  My gaze darted to the left. In the distance, on the refinery roof, Maeven held up her hand, more purple lightning crackling on her fingertips.

  That’s enough, her voice snapped in my mind. You’ve made your point. You don’t have enough magic left to fight me too. Don’t do something stupid and make me break my promise to Leo not to kill you.

  Rage roared through me. I wanted to keep going until I killed Milo, and then Wexel, and finally Maeven, but she was right. I had used up most of my magic, and I was barely standing. I didn’t have enough power left to block her lightning. So as much as I hated it, I stopped and looked at Milo again.

  Wexel had gotten the crown prince up onto the strix, and he had mounted another creature. They were the only two Mortans left alive, although it seemed as though all the strixes had survived. Silence dropped over the plaza, and no one moved.

  “Let this serve as a warning to Morta!” I yelled, although my voice was more of a hoarse, broken rasp than a strong, commanding tone. “If you, Milo Morricone, set one foot in Andvari ever again, then I will kill you! And all who are with you! Is that understood?”

  Somehow, the silence grew quieter, tenser, and even the injured seemed to stifle their moans.

  “Is that understood?” I yelled again, louder than before.

  Milo glared at me, hate boiling in his eyes. Beside him, Wexel’s face was equally red and angry. Milo opened his mouth, probably to spew curses at me, but a smooth, silky voice cu
t him off.

  “Understood,” Maeven called out.

  I stared at the Morricone queen. To my surprise, a satisfied smile slowly spread across her face. Why was the bitch smiling? I had escaped her clutches and beaten back her son. She should be trying to murder me, not grinning like I’d done her some wonderful favor.

  Maeven respectfully tipped her head to me. “Well done, Gemma. All hail the new gargoyle queen.”

  My frown deepened. Why would she call me that?

  Maeven made a sharp motion with her hand. Wexel nodded back at her, and his and Milo’s strixes shot up into the sky, along with the creatures the dead Mortans had been riding. Delmira stared at me, her face pale, but her strix also shot up into the sky. The three guards followed her, along with Maeven. That left Leonidas and Lyra alone on the refinery roof.

  A small smile flickered across his bruised, battered face. I always knew you were magnificent.

  Despite the distance between us, I could hear the ring of truth in his words, and I couldn’t stop the spurt of pleasure that filled my heart.

  Now your people know it too. They will never call you Glitzma again.

  I glanced around. He was right. Everyone in the plaza was staring at me with a mix of awe and wonder—and a touch of fear.

  I looked back at Leonidas, not sure what thought to send to him. High above, a strix screamed out a warning cry. Somehow, I knew that it was Maeven’s creature and her way of ordering her son to leave. Leonidas’s dark amethyst gaze locked with mine again. Then Lyra flapped her wings, and the two of them sailed into the sky.

  Leonidas Morricone might be gone, but he would never be far from my thoughts—for better or worse.

  * * *

  I stared up into the bright blue autumn sky, but the strixes quickly climbed the mountain and vanished over the peak. The Mortans were gone—for now.

  Once I was sure they weren’t coming back, I limped across the plaza. The miners, merchants, and shoppers were slowly climbing to their feet, as well as checking on the injured, but I staggered over to the broken fountain.

  Reiko had propped herself up against the base, and Grimley was lying beside her. I crouched next to my friend, who had shifted back into her human form. Blood stained the side of her purple tunic, but she gave me a pain-filled smile.

  “It looks worse than it is,” Reiko replied. “I’ll be fine after a round or two of healing.”

  One knot of tension in my chest loosened. I looked at the gargoyle. “Grims?”

  “I’m okay,” he rumbled. “Just a little sore and scorched, but I’ll be fine.”

  The other knot loosened, and I sat down in between them. Reiko leaned her shoulder against mine, while Grimley shuffled over and put his head in my lap. I scratched right in between his horns, just as he liked.

  Five minutes later, Reiko, Grimley, and I were still sitting by the fountain when a familiar figure dropped to a knee in front of me.

  Topacia stared at me with wide eyes. “Gemma! Are you okay?”

  “More or less.”

  Topacia turned to Javier, the bone master, who was standing beside her. “Heal Princess Gemma at once!”

  Javier stepped forward, but I waved him off. “I’m not hurt as badly as others are. Take care of the worst of the wounded first.”

  Topacia opened her mouth, but I stared her down. “That’s an order.”

  My friend and guard bowed her head. “Yes, Your Highness.”

  Topacia stood up and started yelling out orders to Javier and the other bone masters who had rushed to the plaza, along with the royal guards. The injured were healed, while the dead were carted off to be buried.

  An hour later, I stood by the ruined fountain and watched while Topacia and the Andvarian guards loaded the last of the dead miners, merchants, and shoppers onto wagons. The slain Mortans were still in the plaza, although they too would soon be loaded up and taken away. The sound of the wagon wheels creak-creak-creaking dug into my mind like daggers, making my heart ache and my stomach churn with guilt.

  “It’s not your fault,” Reiko said.

  The dragon morph had been healed and was standing beside me, watching the proceedings. Grimley had also been healed and was lying in a nearby sunspot, napping and recovering his strength.

  “Yes, it is,” I replied in a bitter tone. “I was a fool to think I could just waltz around Myrkvior and no one would recognize me. I was a fool to think I was a spy instead of a princess.”

  “I would argue that you’re a very good spy,” Reiko countered. “You did what no other Ripley has done in centuries—you visited Myrkvior and survived.”

  Despite the grim situation, I snorted out a laugh, but my merriment quickly faded away. “Regardless of my spycraft, or lack thereof, these people—innocent people—are dead because of me.”

  Reiko shrugged. “Perhaps. But I’m alive because of you. And so is Grimley and everyone else in the plaza. You didn’t ask the Mortans to come here. They invaded your kingdom, your city. And you made them pay for that.”

  She might have been right, but her words didn’t ease my sorrow, shame, and guilt. If only I’d actually gone on that shopping trip to Svalin, then none of this would have ever happened. I wouldn’t have been injured in the mine. Leonidas wouldn’t have taken me to Myrkvior. Milo wouldn’t have tortured me. Maeven wouldn’t have used me. And I wouldn’t have led the Mortans back here to attack my people.

  And you never would have seen Leo again, that treacherous little voice whispered in the back of my mind.

  I shoved away that unwanted thought and focused on Reiko again. “Come back to Glitnir with me.”

  She frowned, as did her inner dragon. “What? Why?” Suspicion filled both their faces. “Does Prince Dominic still want to pump me for information? Or do you want me to spy for Andvari?”

  “Well, you are a master at it, remember? As good as Lady Xenia herself.”

  Reiko gave me a sour look, but her lips twitched up into a smile, and her dragon laughed silently on her skin.

  “You’re right. I could use a spy of my own, instead of trying to do everything myself.” I paused. “But what I could use even more is a friend.”

  Reiko tilted her head to the side, studying me. “And what exactly would I do at Glitnir?”

  I shrugged. “Haven’t you heard? Princess Gemma Glitzma Ripley is known for her hospitality. There will be at least a few shopping trips and royal balls and other equally frivolous things.”

  Reiko barked out a laugh. “Good. I could use a few frivolous things after all this danger and drama.”

  “So you’ll come home with me?”

  She threaded her arm through mine. “Absolutely. You need someone around to watch your back besides Grimley.”

  I smiled at her, despite the guilt and sadness filling my heart. Then we stood there, arm in arm, watching while the rest of the bodies were loaded up and taken away.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Three days later, I was back home at Glitnir.

  I was in my father’s study, watching Reiko play kronekling, a card game, with Father, Rhea, and Topacia. They were laughing and talking, while Grimley was stretched out in his usual spot in front of the fireplace, snoozing and soaking up the heat from the crackling flames. Grandfather Heinrich was also here, dozing in a chair, his reading glasses sliding down his nose, and an open book stretched out across his lap. The normal, happy scene warmed my heart and made it ache at the same time.

  “A crown for your thoughts?” a low voice asked.

  Alvis came over to me, holding a mug of hot chocolate. I was standing in the corner, also holding a mug of hot chocolate, although I wasn’t drinking it.

  “I was thinking how grateful I am to be here.”

  It was the truth. All the things I had taken for granted before had new meaning now, even something as simple as a quiet evening with my friends and family. I appreciated it all much more now—and I realized just how easily Milo Morricone could destroy it.

  �
��I’ve been studying those tearstone arrows you brought back from Morta,” Alvis said, as if picking up on my dark thoughts.

  “What do you think Milo plans to do with them?”

  Alvis frowned. “I’m not sure. But if Milo has found some way to get the tearstone to channel his magic, then it can’t be anything good. Just those two arrows by themselves could be turned into powerful weapons. And if he has enough tearstone to make thousands more of them . . .”

  He didn’t say anything else, but I could hear all the awful things he was contemplating.

  Alvis must have seen me wince as his thoughts intruded on my own. “I can make you another pendant. A larger, stronger one to help you block out the thoughts again. To keep you from getting paralyzed like you have in the past.”

  I had told him how everyone’s fear and panic during the Blauberg battle had overwhelmed me, just like it had during the Seven Spire massacre.

  I shook my head. “No. I used your pendant as a crutch for far too long. It made me feel safe, secure, protected, and I wanted to hold on to that feeling for as long as possible. But I’m not a little girl anymore, and it’s time to grow up. It’s time that I stopped hiding from my magic, and my memories too.”

  Alvis squeezed my arm. “You grew up the day of the massacre, Gemma. You will be a wonderful queen, and you will protect Andvari from the Mortans, just as Everleigh has defended Bellona from her enemies.”

  “Do you really think so?” I whispered.

  He smiled. “I know so.”

  Alvis held out his mug, and I clinked mine against his, that one soft note drowning out all the noise, commotion, and doubt in my heart, at least for this moment.

  * * *

  Thirty minutes later, I said my good nights to everyone and left the study. I’d been in so many meetings with Father, Grandfather Heinrich, Rhea, and our advisors this past week that I wanted some quiet time to myself, so I went to my chambers. I stood out on the balcony for several minutes, breathing in the chilly night air and the floral perfumes drifting up out of the Edelstein Gardens in the center of the palace.