Protect the Prince

by Estep, Jennifer

  Captain Rhea was among those who entered the dungeon, and she kept shooting me suspicious glances, as if she thought I had something to do with the magier’s death, even though I’d been unconscious in my chambers when it had happened.

  While everyone else ran around, shouting and accusing one another, I stood quietly in the corner, studying the dead magier. Other than the cot and a wooden bucket in the corner that stank of human waste, the only other thing in her cell was the glass on the floor.

  My nose twitched. I could smell the soft, sweet lavender, along with a faint undercurrent of rot, in the spilled water. It wasn’t wormroot, but I was pretty sure it was the same poison that Libby had tried to give to me in the Seven Spire throne room, and the same poison that had been on the dagger that she’d used to kill herself.

  Whether the weather magier had taken the poison herself or someone had slipped it into her water . . . Well, that was anyone’s guess.

  But I would put my money on someone poisoning the magier. Someone had helped her and the other assassins slip into the palace. If I had been that person, I would have come here and killed the magier the first chance I got in order to keep my association with the Mortans a secret.

  According to Sullivan, all sorts of people had been in and out of the dungeon ever since the magier had been brought here. Heinrich, Rhea, the guards, my friends. They’d all had access to the magier, along with dozens of others, and no one could remember who had given her the glass of water.

  Either way, this mystery wasn’t going to be solved, at least not tonight, so I returned to my chambers and crawled back into bed. I fell asleep almost immediately, and I didn’t wake up until a hand shook my shoulder the next morning. My fingers slipped under my pillow and wrapped about the dagger there even as I cracked open my eyes.

  Paloma was leaning over me, a concerned look on her face. The ogre on her neck had the same worried expression. “Are you okay? I knocked on the door and called out, but you didn’t answer.”

  Even though I wanted nothing more than to roll over, burrow back under the covers, and sleep for the rest of the day, I forced myself to let go of my dagger and sit up. “I’m okay. Just tired. What’s wrong now?”

  Paloma shrugged. “Nothing, really. At least nothing new. But if you want to have breakfast with Dahlia, then Calandre says that you need to get dressed.”

  I groaned. Having breakfast with Sullivan’s mother was the last thing I wanted to do, but I was already in enough trouble without insulting the king’s mistress. So I got out of bed and let Calandre and her sisters work their magic on me.

  Thirty minutes later, with Paloma by my side, I knocked on a door not too far away from my own chambers. The two Andvarian guards stationed outside gave me suspicious glares, their hands on their swords, but Paloma dropped her own hand to her spiked mace, and the guards thought better of confronting me.

  “Come in,” a light, pleasant voice called out.

  “I’ll wait out here,” Paloma muttered, still eyeing the guards.

  I nodded, opened the door, and went inside.

  The chambers were quite large, easily twice the size of mine. A freestanding screen made of black bamboo and studded with amethysts in the shape of flying birds divided the back half of the room from the front, with a four-poster bed peeking out from behind it. Another screen wrapped around part of an armoire, forming a dressing area. To my right, an open door led into a bathroom studded with silver fixtures.

  A writing desk, a vanity table, chairs, couches. The furnishings were similar to the ones in my chambers, but swatches of gold and silver gleamed on every surface, along with sparkling gemstones. Even when compared to the rest of the palace, these objects were truly dazzling, as though someone had gone through Glitnir room by room, picked out the finest pieces, and brought them all here.

  I looked over at a table covered with a light gray cloth that was perched in front of the fireplace. A gray porcelain tea set patterned with purple flowers was laid out on the table, along with platters filled with eggs, bacon, fruit, and more. The hearty breakfast aromas made my stomach rumble.

  A couple of servants were standing along the walls, but I focused on the two women sitting at the table—Dahlia and Helene.

  Dahlia was wearing a green silk gown, and her only jewelry was a gold, heart-shaped locket embossed with the same large, fancy cursive D that had been on the card she’d left in my chambers with the refreshments yesterday. Her black hair was smoothed back into a bun, and understated makeup accentuated her green eyes.

  Dahlia looked as poised and regal as any queen, but Helene was absolutely stunning in a pale violet gown that brought out her long, wavy auburn hair and jade-green eyes. Delicate vines done in silver thread curled up the sleeves of her gown, before spreading across the bodice and forming a flower garden. Amethysts and emeralds winked in the center of many of the blossoms, while a silver signet ring set with emeralds flashed on her index finger.

  Dahlia pushed back her chair and walked over to me. “Everleigh! Thank you so much for coming, especially after all that awfulness last night.”

  I wondered if she was talking about the threats and insults that Heinrich and I had hurled at each other over dinner or the assassination attempt later on. Probably both. Despite the overwhelming opulence, plenty of ugly things lurked in the shadows at Glitnir.

  Dahlia smiled and patted my arm. My nose twitched, but all I could sense was her rose perfume. Normally, I would have enjoyed the pleasant aroma, but Dahlia had doused herself with the scent, making it cloyingly sweet. My nose twitched again, and I had to work to keep from sneezing in her face.

  She turned and gestured at the other woman. “I hope you don’t mind, but I also invited Helene.”

  “How nice,” I murmured, matching her politeness.

  Helene got to her feet, came over, and air-kissed my cheeks. I returned the gesture with far less enthusiasm, although thankfully her lavender perfume was much lighter than Dahlia’s rose scent and didn’t make me want to sneeze.

  “Come.” Dahlia gestured at the table. “Sit. Eat. Relax.”

  I did as she suggested. The servants stepped forward, piled several plates high with eggs, bacon, and fruit, and set them in front of me. I drew in several discreet breaths, but I didn’t smell or sense any magic. The food wasn’t poisoned, but I still waited for Dahlia and Helene to start eating before I put the first bite of bacon in my mouth. I also opted for kiwi juice, instead of the hibiscus tea the other women were drinking.

  Dahlia and Helene engaged in the usual polite chitchat, asking me about Seven Spire, the weather, and other harmless, inane things. This was a game I had played many times before, and I slowly relaxed, although I only answered their specific questions and didn’t volunteer any extra information in return. But the meal passed pleasantly enough, and the servants eventually cleared the food off the table and left the chambers.

  Once they were gone, Dahlia smiled. “Now, we can speak a bit more freely.”

  Helene leaned forward. “Yes, I want to know everything that happened last night. Of course I saw you and Dominic in the library, but to think that assassins would be so bold as to attack the two of you in there.” She shuddered, as if she simply couldn’t imagine such a thing.

  “Yes, it was quite unexpected,” I said in a neutral voice. “As was the weather magier’s death later on in her cell.”

  I still had no idea who had poisoned the magier, but this seemed like as good a place as any to start fishing for information.

  Helene nodded. “Sullivan asked me to examine her body. Whatever poison she took was almost immediately lethal.”

  I frowned. Helene hadn’t come into the dungeon while I’d been there. “Why would Sullivan ask you to examine the magier’s body?”

  “Helene is a plant master,” Dahlia explained. “So she knows all about plants, along with the poisons you can make with them.”

  The younger woman gave a not-so-modest shrug. “The Blumes are rather famous p
lant masters in Andvari. We have several large farms in the countryside where we grow fruits and vegetables, but we’re most well-known for our gardens here in the city. We use the plants and flowers to make face creams, perfumes, and the like, all of which we infuse with beauty glamours and other magics. My father passed away several months ago, so I run the family business now.”

  Dahlia reached over and patted her hand. “Helene also helps to maintain the Edelstein Gardens. You should see her greenhouse workshop. It’s almost as lovely as the gardens.”

  A pleased blush flooded Helene’s cheeks, and she smiled at Dahlia.

  So not only was Helene Blume stunningly beautiful, but she was also extremely smart and wealthy and a powerful plant master. No wonder Sullivan had loved her. Even I was impressed with her, despite myself.

  But I pushed my jealousy aside and kept fishing for information. “So what did you find when you examined the magier’s body? Wormroot poison?”

  I knew that it hadn’t been wormroot, but I wanted to see what Helene would say about the poison.

  Helene drummed her fingers on the tabletop. “No, it wasn’t wormroot. I’m not quite sure what it was. I’ve never encountered it before, but the Mortans are known for finding clever ways to kill their enemies.”

  Yes, they were, and Maeven was probably more motivated than most, especially since I’d now survived three of her assassination attempts. The Mortan king couldn’t be happy with her continued failures to eliminate me.

  “I’m going to look through some of my father’s journals in my workshop and see if I can find anything useful,” Helene finished, then took a dainty sip of her tea.

  “Is there any way to tell if the magier took the poison herself?” I asked.

  Helene blinked in surprise, while Dahlia’s hands curled around her teacup.

  “Well, no, not really,” Helene admitted. “But legend has it that Mortan assassins are under strict orders to kill themselves rather than be captured and questioned. Rhea and the guards didn’t find anything on the weather magier when they searched her, but the magier could have had that poison hidden away in a hollow button or tooth or something like that. You know how sneaky the Mortans can be.”

  Dahlia murmured her agreement, then poured herself and Helene some more tea, as if closing the mater.

  Frustration filled me, but I let them change the subject. I didn’t think that the magier had killed herself. Otherwise, she would have done it in the library the second she realized that she wasn’t going to escape, not waited until after she’d been taken to the dungeon.

  And once again, I couldn’t help but wonder who at Glitnir was working with the Mortans and why that person wanted me dead. What did anyone here have to gain from my demise? Despite all the vicious, cutthroat games I’d seen the nobles play at Seven Spire, I couldn’t figure out the answer to my question. Or maybe Maeven and her accomplice were simply that much smarter than me. Either way, I wasn’t exactly brimming with confidence, especially when it came to my chances of making it back to Bellona alive.

  So I sat there and silently stewed while Dahlia and Helene chatted about other things, including some noblewoman who was getting married.

  Helene gave me a sly look. “Perhaps that’s not the only wedding we’ll have to attend.”

  She was obviously talking about Heinrich’s insistence that I wed Dominic. I took another sip of my juice to hide my grimace and give myself a few more seconds to think of a clever reply.

  “Oh, I doubt that,” I drawled. “Dominic will probably never want to be in the same room with me again, given what happened in the library. Being around me is probably quite a bit more hazardous to his health than he would like.”

  Dahlia and Helene tittered politely at my joke. Helene opened her mouth, probably to ask some more pointed questions about Dominic, but I looked at Dahlia.

  “Although you and Heinrich seem very content,” I said. “Perhaps the two of you should be planning a wedding. Seeing their king happy would do a great deal to boost the morale of the Andvarian people.”

  Dahlia let out a hearty laugh. “Oh, my dear, I have no desire to marry Heinrich. Perhaps when I was young and starry-eyed, but not now.”

  “But you would be queen,” Helene pointed out, with a pretty pout on her face, as if she couldn’t imagine anyone ever turning down that particular opportunity.

  Dahlia shrugged. “I’m quite happy with my current arrangement with Heinrich. Besides, I don’t want to be queen. It’s far too much work for far too little reward.”

  I drew in a breath, but she reeked of lime truthfulness. It was the first scent, the first emotion, I’d been able to sense over her strong rose perfume. Her answer surprised me. I would have thought that she would have demanded that Heinrich marry her after the first queen—Dominic’s mother—had died. Then again, I was hardly an expert on love and relationships. And Dahlia was right. As queen, she would have to become even more involved in the nobles’ petty disputes and games. I’d been queen for only a few months, and I was already thoroughly sick of that.

  Dahlia stared at me. “Everleigh knows what I mean. Being queen isn’t nearly as much fun as everyone thinks it is. Am I right?”

  “Well, not when you’re dodging assassins right and left,” I drawled, deciding to play her words off as another joke. “That does tend to tarnish one’s crown.”

  The two women both politely chuckled again.

  A knock sounded on the door, and a servant entered and said that Helene was needed to deal with some business in her workshop. She hugged Dahlia, air-kissed my cheeks again, and left.

  Dahlia got to her feet. “It’s such a lovely morning. Let’s take a walk.”

  She stuck her head out into the hallway and told her guards to meet us downstairs, along with Paloma. Then she crossed her chambers and opened one of the glass doors. I followed her.

  We stepped outside onto the same balcony where I had seen Dahlia yesterday. Unlike my balcony, which was now devoid of greenery, thanks to Grimley and his massive tail, potted plants and flowers of all shapes and sizes lined the railing here.

  “What a stunning collection you have,” I said.

  “Oh, they’re not mine. Not really. Helene gave them to me,” Dahlia replied.

  She trailed her fingers over the plants and flowers as she walked along the balcony, making the green leaves and bright blossoms bob up and down. She drew her hand back for a moment, so that it wouldn’t touch the spiky needles on a small gray cactus, then ran her fingers along the rest of the greenery sitting on the railing.

  “I’m not much of a gardener, and the poor things wouldn’t even get watered if the servants weren’t around,” Dahlia confessed. “But Helene knows that I love flowers, and she often gives me cuttings from her greenhouse. She’s like the daughter I never had.”

  Helene would have been Dahlia’s daughter—or at least her daughter-in-law—if she had married Sullivan. I wondered how Dahlia could be so friendly with the woman who’d broken her son’s heart. I didn’t think I could have managed it.

  Unlike my balcony, this one featured a set of stairs, and Dahlia and I spiraled down them. Her two guards were waiting at the bottom, along with Paloma.

  Dahlia set off down one of the paths that led into the gardens. I walked beside her, with the guards and Paloma trailing along behind us. It was a warm autumn day, and nobles, servants, and guards were going about their gossip and duties. Everyone bowed their heads and murmured greetings to Dahlia, while I received more flat, suspicious stares.

  But the walk was pleasant enough, and Dahlia shared little facts about the gardens, along with the people we passed, as we moved into the hedge maze.

  “It seems as if you know everyone at Glitnir, from the nobles to the servants,” I said, after she stopped to inquire about the newborn grandson of one of the kitchen cook masters.

  Dahlia shrugged. “I suppose that I do. That’s where I started out, you see. In the kitchen.”

  “You were a servant
?”

  Xenia had mentioned that, but I wanted to hear Dahlia’s story.

  “Oh, yes. I was sent to work in the palace kitchen at a young age, so I grew up around Heinrich and the other nobles. The thing I loved best about Heinrich is that he always treated me as an equal. I was so happy that he did the same to Lucas.”

  From everything I’d seen and heard, Heinrich was a good, fair, just king—except for his insistence that I marry Dominic.

  “You’ve done quite well for yourself at court,” I said. “Your chambers are lovely, and everyone seems to respect you a great deal.”

  Dahlia smiled, but the expression didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Yes, well, no one wants to piss off the king’s mistress. I imagine things are similar among the nobles at Seven Spire.”

  I didn’t respond because things weren’t similar at Seven Spire. Oh, we had our share of torrid, illicit love affairs. The hearts and initials carved into the wall on the royal lawn proved that. But I’d never seen any mistress with the amount of respect, power, and wealth that Dahlia had. She was the de facto queen of Glitnir, only without the official weight and concerns of the crown on her head. It seemed as though she’d found a way to have the best of both worlds. I envied her that.

  “I’m sure you’re wondering why I haven’t married Heinrich, given how many years ago his wife died.” Dahlia shrugged. “But official titles have never mattered very much to me.”

  “So what does matter to you?”

  “The only thing I truly care about now is what is best for Lucas,” Dahlia said in a firm voice.

  I smiled. “He talks about you a lot. The two of you seem very close.”

  “We are. Close enough for him to have spoken to me about you as well.”

  My stomach clenched, but I forced myself to ask the obvious question. “And what has he said?”

  She looked at me out of the corner of her eye. “My son is very . . . fond of you, Everleigh. He spoke about you quite often, even before he knew who you really were, and you became queen of Bellona.”