Protect the Prince

by Estep, Jennifer

  Fullman swung back around to me, surprise flickering in his pale blue eyes. He hadn’t expected me to push back so forcefully. His lips puckered, and I could almost see the wheels spinning in his mind as he rethought his strategy to get whatever it was he really wanted.

  “Of course not. That terrible tragedy will never, ever be forgotten.” He drew in a breath to deliver the but I knew was coming next. “But traveling to Andvari sends the wrong message. That Bellona can’t stand on her own. That she can’t take care of herself.”

  He phrased it in terms of the kingdom, but everyone knew that he really meant me. Agreeing whispers surged through the crowd, although no one stepped forward to join forces with Fullman against me. They were waiting to see how this game would play out.

  “Other, more important matters need your attention,” Fullman said, another sneer creeping into his voice. “I’m sure there are plenty of things at the palace to keep you busy.”

  I had been busy ever since I’d become queen. Most of my time had been spent weeding the turncoat guards out of Seven Spire and undoing the many cruel policies that Vasilia had enacted while on the throne. I’d barely had a minute to myself, which was why this formal court session was happening today, three long months into my reign, instead of three days after I’d taken the crown, as was tradition.

  And now, here it was. The moment I had been dreading ever since I’d first sat down on the queen’s throne the night that I’d killed Vasilia. The first true challenge to my rule, less than ten minutes into the court session. I had to give Fullman credit for his restraint. I’d expected him to attack me at the five-minute mark, at the very latest.

  On the surface, it seemed like a perfectly reasonable request. But if I gave in to Fullman now, and especially if I stayed at Seven Spire, then everyone would see me as weak. Even more troublesome, I would be seen as ceding to the wishes of a lord—one who was wealthy and powerful enough to raise his own army to try to take the throne from me.

  I couldn’t afford to do that, but I also wasn’t going to bow down to him or anyone else. I had done that for all the years I’d been the royal stand-in, the royal puppet, when I’d had to smile and nod and hold my tongue no matter how badly someone used, abused, insulted, or mistreated me. I was never doing that again.

  Never.

  Besides, I had other reasons for going to Andvari, reasons that were just as important to my survival as this verbal sparring match.

  So I lifted my chin and stared down my nose at Fullman. Easy enough to do, since I was sitting on the throne a good six feet above his balding head.

  “And I can’t think of anything more important than repairing relations with Andvari and brokering a new peace treaty between our kingdoms,” I said. “Especially given the recent actions of the Mortan king against Bellona, against my family. The Andvarians weren’t the only ones who died. Or perhaps you’ve forgotten about the assassinations of Queen Cordelia, Princess Madelena, and several noble members of this court, some of whom were purported to be your friends?”

  My voice was pleasant, but my words were anything but. More murmurs surged through the crowd, this time agreeing with me, and even Fullman had the decency to wince.

  Serilda, Xenia, and Auster all nodded their approval. Behind the nobles, Paloma was grinning, as was Cho, who was standing beside her and nibbling on another tray of cakes. I didn’t look up at Sullivan.

  But Fullman recovered quickly. He wasn’t giving up his agenda without a fight. “Well, if you are so determined to travel to Andvari, then let me assist you.”

  I arched an eyebrow. “And how do you propose to do that?”

  A wide, satisfied smirk stretched across his face, and the scent of sour, sweaty eagerness surged off his body. I’d made a mistake asking him such an open-ended question, and I’d just walked straight into whatever trap he truly had in mind.

  “The ranks of your personal servants are a bit thin and are comprised of people with limited resources and shockingly small amounts of magic.” He glanced over at Serilda, Xenia, and Auster, then pointedly looked up at the balcony again. This time, Fullman fixed his harsh, accusing gaze on Calandre.

  The thread master stiffened in her seat, and her fingers fisted in her blue skirt. Calandre might have worked for Queen Cordelia, but she didn’t have nearly as much money, power, and influence as other thread masters, and Vasilia had tossed her aside for one of Fullman’s richer, stronger cousins. At Seven Spire, being poor and weak in your magic was even worse than being a bastard.

  Fullman sneered at Calandre a moment longer, then faced me again. “I would be happy to give you some of my servants to help fill your staff.”

  I barely managed to hold back a derisive snort. Servants? More like spies. Oh, Fullman’s people might cook my food and wash my clothes, but they would also report my every move back to him.

  “How generous,” I murmured. “I’m quite happy with my current staff, but I’ll take your offer under advisement.”

  His lips puckered again at my deflection, but his sour expression quickly melted into another smug smirk.

  “Actually, that’s only part of my offer.” He paused for dramatic effect. “I think the best way to protect both you and Bellona is for my eldest son, Tolliver, to be your official consort.”

  Loud gasps surged through the crowd, followed by furious whispers, and several nobles shot Fullman dirty looks, obviously wishing they had been as quick-thinking, brazen, and devious enough to offer up their own sons to wed and bed me.

  I silently cursed my own foolishness. I still wasn’t used to being the center of attention, much less the target of everyone’s schemes, and I had miscalculated how aggressive Fullman would be. And now I had to deal with his ridiculous proposal, along with the fallout from it. With a few simple words, the pompous lord had just launched a dozen new plots against me. Now, every single noble would start calculating how they—or one of their relatives—could win my hand in marriage.

  Fullman snapped his fingers, and a taller, thinner version of himself stepped out of the crowd. Tolliver tried to smile at me, but it came off as more of a leer, and his gaze was firmly fixed on my crown rather than on my face.

  Several of the nobles frowned at Fullman, but no one objected to his proposal, given how rich and powerful he was and how easily he could turn his wrath on them. Even the nobles who were Fullman’s equals in power, land, men, and money kept quiet. They probably wanted to see what I would say to his offer before they made their own gambits.

  I gritted my teeth and tamped down my anger. I hadn’t thought that things would deteriorate so quickly, but I should have known better. To everyone here, I was still just Everleigh, an orphan girl with no real magic, money, or power who had been a distant seventeenth in line for the throne. Despite the fact that I had survived the royal massacre and had killed Vasilia in front of them, the nobles still thought that I was weak. At Seven Spire, weakness bred treachery, and treachery bred death.

  The only good thing about Fullman’s preposterous proposal was that it told me that he wasn’t the one who wanted me dead right here and now. No, he wanted me to marry his son and get his hands on the throne that way. And then he would probably have me assassinated.

  Auster glared at Fullman, and the captain’s hand curled around his sword, as though he wanted to cut down the smug lord. I knew the feeling.

  Serilda and Xenia were still standing next to Auster, and they both looked at me, wondering how I would handle this. Out of all the scenarios we had prepared for, this wasn’t one of them. I’d thought the nobles would wait at least another month before trying to secure my hand in marriage, but I should have known better about that too. These were turbulent times in Bellona, and everyone was scrambling to cement what wealth, magic, and power they already had, as well as claw for even more.

  Fullman used my silence as an opportunity to keep talking. “It would be far better for you to marry a Bellonan, rather than an outsider. After all, Princess Vasilia consorted w
ith Nox, that wretched Mortan lord, and look how badly he led her astray.”

  Loud, mocking laughter erupted out of my lips. “Oh, please. No one ever led Vasilia astray. She decided to murder her mother all on her own. Nox and the Mortans were just a means to an end for her.”

  Fullman winced for a second time, and he actually waited a few moments before trying again. “Yes, well, my point remains the same. We wouldn’t want any outsiders to unduly influence our court.”

  Once again, he pointedly looked up at Sullivan. It seemed as though Fullman had heard the rumors that Sullivan and I were . . . whatever we were, and he wanted to cut off the other man from the throne. I could have told him that Sullivan had no interest in being my consort, but Fullman wouldn’t have believed me. To him, money and power were the most important things, instead of the principles that Sullivan believed in, principles that I found both admirable and frustrating.

  The other nobles also stared at Sullivan. Once again, I could smell his peppery anger, but his face remained a perfect, blank mask. Sullivan understood how these courtly games worked, and he knew that you never let anyone see how much they hurt you.

  Fullman jabbed his elbow into Tolliver’s side, forcing the younger man to smile at me again. Tolliver even batted his eyelashes, as though the mere sight of his supposed adoring gaze would be enough to make me swoon, stumble down off the dais, and throw myself into his thin arms.

  Fullman must have sensed my disgust because he elbowed Tolliver again, and the younger man stopped his ridiculous attempt at flirting. They both stared at me, clearly expecting an answer, as did everyone else. The other nobles, my friends, the guards. Even the servants stopped passing out food and drinks to see how I would handle this.

  “You’re moving rather quickly, Fullman,” I drawled. “I’ve only been on the throne three months, and you’re already planning my wedding. Tell me, do you have my children’s names picked out as well?”

  Loud, mocking snickers rang out at my scornful words. I could trade barbs with the best of the nobles, something that everyone was going to realize soon enough.

  An angry flush stained Fullman’s cheeks, but he wet his lips and kept going. “Of course not. But Tolliver has long admired you. The two of you grew up together. Don’t you remember?”

  “Oh, yes, I remember Tolliver,” I said, my voice sharpening. “I remember how I once asked him to dance at a royal ball in this very room. I also remember how he laughed and told me that he would rather dance with a gargoyle than ever put his arms around me. I believe that was when we were sixteen, maybe seventeen. I’m not sure of the exact date. The parties and insults tend to blur together as the years pass.”

  Fullman’s eyes widened, while Tolliver’s face turned an interesting shade of purple. This time, shocked gasps rang out instead of mocking laughter. The nobles hadn’t thought that I would be so bold as to insult someone as powerful as Fullman. They didn’t realize that I was just getting started.

  I glanced at my friends. Auster was grinning, as were Paloma and Cho. Serilda nodded her approval, while Xenia gave me a sly wink, as did the ogre on her neck. I still didn’t look at Sullivan, though. I didn’t want to add to the rumors about us.

  So far, Fullman had been doing all the talking, plotting, and manipulating. It wasn’t enough for me to merely block his attacks. I needed to show the nobles that I was a force to be reckoned with, just like Cordelia and Vasilia had been.

  I might secretly think that I was a fraud, a pretend Winter queen, but I could never let anyone see my insecurity. I had tried to be nice, polite, and reasonable with Fullman, but no more. Fighting back was the only way I was going to survive for any length of time.

  So I stood up, walked down the dais, and stopped at the bottom of the steps. The nobles retreated a few feet, and I paced back and forth in front of them, choosing my next target carefully. I also scanned the crowd again, searching for the source of that jalapeño rage, but I still couldn’t pinpoint it to figure out who wanted me dead.

  “Although I suppose that Lord Fullman has a point. I should pick out someone to marry. After all, it’s not like any of you would say no, is it?”

  No one responded, and not so much as a whisper broke the tense, heavy silence.

  Finally, I stopped in front of Lady Diante, who had sent me that basket of pears. Diante was in her seventies, with golden eyes, ebony skin, and short, iron-gray hair that was twisted into tight curls. She was one of the most powerful nobles and Fullman’s equal in terms of land, men, and money. Even better, she and Fullman were bitter rivals.

  “What about you, Diante?” I asked. “Which one of your grandsons would make a good consort?”

  Her eyes narrowed. She didn’t know what I was doing, but she wasn’t going to pass up this opportunity. “I have several grandsons who would suit you quite nicely, my queen,” she said in a deep, throaty voice. “Pick out any one you like.”

  She waved her hand, and three men scurried forward to stand beside her, all with the same golden eyes and sharp cheekbones that she had. I looked at each one of them, as though I was considering picking out a husband as casually as Paloma had plucked a pear out of that fruit basket.

  “Funny you should say that. Because I remember a time several years ago when Queen Cordelia suggested matching me to one of your grandsons. What was it you said to her?”

  Diante frowned, and her eyes narrowed again, as if she was trying to recall that particular insult and how much it was going to damage her now.

  I tapped my fingers on my lips, as though I was searching for the answer, then snapped them together. “Oh, yes! You laughed and said that you would never marry any of your grandsons to me, a lowly mutt. And then you added that any baby I had wouldn’t have enough magic to make it worth the milk it took to feed the child.”

  More shocked gasps rang out. Diante grimaced and opened her mouth, probably to apologize, but I stared her down, and she had the common sense to keep quiet.

  When I was sure that she was going to hold her tongue, I stared out at the nobles in front of me, as well as those up on the balcony, who were leaning forward in their seats, totally invested in the drama.

  “Let me be clear,” I said, my voice booming out almost as loudly as Cho’s had. “I will choose a consort when I am ready, and not one moment before. And if you think to sway me with gifts or pretty words, remember this: I didn’t just stumble into Seven Spire the night I killed Vasilia. I was here for fifteen long years before that, so I know every single one of you. I know your strengths, your weaknesses, and especially the petty little schemes you like to inflict on one another.”

  The nobles shifted on their feet and in their seats. They hadn’t expected me to be so blunt, but I didn’t care about bruising their egos. Not anymore. I was already sick and tired of their fucking games, and if I didn’t take control of the court—of them—right now, then I never would.

  “I remember every single insult any of you ever hurled my way, from the time when I was a child right up until the royal massacre. I haven’t forgotten your cruelties, and I’m certainly not going to reward you for them now.”

  “Then what are you going to do?” Diante asked, although her voice was low, and I almost thought I saw a bit of grudging respect glinting in her eyes.

  “There is an old saying, one that we are all quite proud of: Bellonans are very good at playing the long game.”

  Everyone nodded, and several folks stood up taller with pride. Bellonans were good at playing the long game, at being patient and lying in wait for their enemies to make a mistake so they could move in and finally, fully decimate them. No one played that game better than the Seven Spire nobles, and they’d taught me how to play it too.

  “For years, you’ve all been playing a long game, trying to curry favor with Cordelia, Vasilia, and even Madelena. Well, I’m here to tell you that you’ve all lost.”

  A collective sound of uneasy agreement rippled through the room.

  “Cordelia is dead,
Vasilia is dead, and whatever deals they struck with you are dead as well.” I looked from one noble to another. “I am queen now, and I will not be bullied, cowed, or otherwise intimidated or insulted by any of you.”

  “So what will you do?” Fullman asked, a sneer still in his voice.

  I stared him down. “I will be fair, and I will be just, and I will do what is best for Bellona. To make us strong and ready against the growing threat of the Mortans and anyone else who is stupid enough to fuck with us. And if any of you have a problem with that, then you can leave Seven Spire right now and never come back.”

  I phrased it in terms of the kingdom, but everyone knew that I really meant me.

  Once again, silence descended over the room, and no one moved or spoke. The harsh echoes of my words were still reverberating through the air, but cold calculation was already seeping back into the nobles’ faces as they thought about the best strategy to get what they wanted. Bellonans recovered very quickly that way.

  I had been brutally honest, but I also had to be reasonable. I had to give the nobles something, some excuse to at least pretend to go along with me today, or I wouldn’t have a throne to come back to after my trip to Andvari. I glanced over at Serilda and Xenia, who both nodded. We’d discussed this at length.

  So I tipped my head to Fullman and Diante. “But you’re both right about one thing. I need help to make Bellona strong again. And that’s why we are here today. So I can make sure that your concerns are being addressed, and we can all work together to do what is best for Bellona and guide our people and our kingdom to even greater prosperity.”

  I looked over at a tall man with short, curly black hair, dark brown eyes, and ebony skin who was standing next to the buffet tables. He was wearing a long-sleeved blue tunic like the other workers, but the crown-of-shards crest stitched in silver thread over his heart marked him as the kitchen steward. Theroux, another member of the Black Swan troupe.