Crush the King

by Jennifer Estep

  Zariza realized what was going on and gave me a speculative look. Driscol blundered along just like he had through the rest of the game.

  Zariza managed to win the next round with a jack of crowns, and I tossed her a ten of hearts, the highest card I had left besides the silberkling. Every point that Maximus didn’t get furthered my own goal.

  Maximus’s lips pinched together, and his smug eagerness flared up into annoyance again. He won the next round, then took control of the game once more, using a combination of trumps and high cards to win those points. But with each round, the tension around the table grew and grew, and the smell of the crowd’s collective curiosity filled my nose. They were all wondering why I hadn’t played the silberkling yet.

  Everyone except Cho.

  I glanced over at the ringmaster. He’d taught me the strategy, so he knew exactly what I was doing, and the dragon on his neck winked at me in approval. I hid a grin and turned my attention back to my cards.

  On the very last round, Maximus played the five of swords, his final trump. Zariza laid down a queen of coins, while Driscol offered up a ten of crowns. I leaned forward and laid my final card—the silberkling—on top of the others.

  “Why, look at that,” I purred. “I had a trump card left too. And since my trump is higher than yours, then all the cards in the armory are mine too. Let’s see how many points you left in there for me to steal.”

  Maximus’s lips pinched together a little tighter than before, and his nostrils flared in anger. I gestured at the dealer, who flipped the armory cards over and started calling out the points.

  Maximus might have had a strong hand, but he’d still had to put four cards back into the armory. They were mostly low cards, but they slowly added up. That number, combined with my silberkling and the points Zariza had thrown me in the final hand, was just enough to ruin the Mortan king.

  The dealer looked at Maximus. “I’m sorry, sir, but you didn’t make your bid. That means you lose those points, and that our winner is Queen Everleigh.”

  The dealer cringed as he said the last few words, obviously afraid of what the king might do, but Maximus just sat there and stared at the cards as if he couldn’t believe what had happened.

  Surprised gasps rippled through the ballroom, but they were quickly drowned out by my friends, who started clapping and cheering.

  “Yeah! Way to go, Evie!” Paloma yelled.

  “Fantastic game, highness!” Sullivan chimed in.

  “Well done, my queen!” Auster added. “Well done!”

  Serilda and Xenia were also grinning and clapping, while Cho let out a loud, earsplitting whistle.

  Smiling wide, I got to my feet and shook hands with Zariza. “Good game. And thanks for throwing me those last few points,” I murmured. “That helped put me over the top.”

  Her amber eyes gleamed with satisfaction. “I’m just glad one of us beat that bastard at his own game.”

  I turned and shook Driscol’s hand as well, but he was utterly deflated, and his fingers felt as cold and limp as a dead fish against mine. Finally, I faced Maximus, who was still seated.

  “You shouldn’t bid if you’re not absolutely certain you can win,” I said.

  He didn’t respond, but anger sparked in his eyes, and he smelled of rage. Most people probably would have taken their victory and left it at that, but I decided to rub his face in it some more.

  “Well, it looks like I am now the proud owner of a strix,” I drawled. “Tell me, does it have a name? Or do you just give them all numbers?”

  Maximus slowly pushed back from the gaming table and stood up. His nostrils flared, a muscle ticked in his jaw, and the scent of his hot jalapeño rage blasted over me again, even stronger than before. Mercer, Nox, Leonidas, and Maeven all tensed, as did the other Mortans gathered around them.

  For a moment, I thought Maximus was going to renege, but he jerked his head, and one of the Mortan servants pushed the cart over to my side of the table.

  I leaned down and stared into the cage. Lyra stared back at me and quirked her head from side to side, as if she weren’t quite sure what had just happened—and why she wasn’t being butchered.

  Maximus turned his angry glare to Zariza. “This is your fault. You deliberately gave her those points at the end.”

  “Of course I did.” Zariza proudly tossed her long red hair over her shoulder again. “I got the idea from Driscol. Perhaps he’s not such an idiot after all. And perhaps you should have played a better hand, Maximus, and not relied on your lead to see you through to the end.”

  His face darkened with even more anger, but she calmly took another sip of her brandy, then smirked at him over the rim of her glass.

  Maximus’s fingers twitched, as though he wanted to blast her with his magic, but he faced me again. He didn’t so much as glance at Driscol, who let out a quiet sigh of relief.

  “Enjoy your new pet, Everleigh,” Maximus muttered. “For as long as you can.”

  Just like Zariza, I smiled in the face of his obvious threat. “Oh, I intend to.”

  The Mortan king stared at me a moment longer, then whirled around and stormed out of the ballroom.

  Maximus disappeared through an archway, heading deeper into the castle. Mercer shot me a nasty look, as did Nox, and the two of them hurried after their king. Leonidas hesitated, clearly wondering what I was going to do with his beloved strix, but Maeven clamped her hand on her son’s shoulder again and steered him after the others.

  According to Auster’s spies, the Mortans were riding strixes back and forth from their camp to the various Regalia events on the island. I wondered if Maximus would kill one of those creatures to take Lyra’s place. I hoped not.

  Cisco had already left the ballroom, but Heinrich, Dominic, and Rhea came over to congratulate me, as did Eon, Ruri, and their consorts. I smiled, accepting their well-wishes. They moved off, and my friends gathered around me again.

  Cho let out a loud whoop, lifted me up and off my feet, and spun me around before setting me back down. “Now I know how Xenia felt when you beat Zariza at the Tanzen Falter earlier.” He beamed at me, as did the dragon on his neck.

  I squeezed his arm. “That’s because you are a most excellent teacher, just like Xenia is.”

  Xenia sniffed. “A card game is not nearly as complicated as a dance.”

  Cho ignored her words, picked her up, and spun her around too. He set her back down, and Xenia snapped up her cane and poked him in the chest with it.

  “Don’t ever do that again, dragon,” she warned.

  Cho winked at her, as did the dragon on his neck. Xenia’s lips twitched up into a smile that she couldn’t quite hide.

  “I’m so proud of you, Evie,” Auster said, his voice raspy and his eyes suspiciously red and watery. “This is the first time a Bellonan queen has won the kronekling tournament in more than twenty years.”

  I stepped forward and hugged him tight before drawing back. Auster cleared his throat, blinked a few times, and schooled his face back into its usual stern expression.

  “That was wonderful, highness,” Sullivan murmured, kissing my cheek. “Absolutely wonderful.”

  “Well done, Evie,” Serilda chimed in. “Very well done.”

  She smiled, but her blue eyes were dark and troubled, and she kept glancing at the archway that Maximus had gone through. I didn’t ask her about the possibilities she was seeing with her magic. I didn’t have to. I knew Maximus was already plotting how to retaliate for my humiliating him.

  I might have won this round, but the true game between me and the Mortan king was far from over.

  * * *

  The kronekling tournament was the final event of the night, and everyone streamed out of the ballroom, left the DiLucri castle, and walked down the steps to the waterfront.

  Some people headed over to the pleasure and gaming houses to extend their celebration, while others waited for rowboats that would take them back to their ships in the harbor. More than a few f
olks stumbled by, already drunk on whatever ale, liquor, or other intoxicants they could afford. Music and laughter rang up and down the boulevard, and every single building blazed with light.

  Keeping an eye out for more assassins, my friends and I quickly made our way to the Perseverance Bridge, where Auster’s guards were waiting. Together, we crossed the span, heading back over to the relative safety of the Bellonan side of the river.

  Many of my fellow countrymen and -women were also on the bridge, moving from Bellona to Fortuna and back again. Some folks had already celebrated a little too much, and we passed a couple of people hanging over the side of the stone railing, violently vomiting into the water below.

  “Remind me not to eat any fish while we’re here,” Paloma said.

  The farther we walked along the bridge, the more Captain Auster relaxed, as did the rest of my friends, and we slowed down to admire the breathtaking nighttime view. Strings of blue, white, red, green, and other colored fluorestones had been wrapped around the railings and masts of many of the ships, making the vessels look like they were swathed in bright electric spiderwebs. The glows spread out across the water, and the waves danced to and fro like liquid silver.

  But there was one dark spot in the center of the harbor—the ship that I’d noticed earlier, the one without any flags, crests, or other markings. No pretty fluorestones were wrapped around its railing, and the vessel was totally dark. I squinted, but I didn’t see anyone on deck, and no lights glimmered in the round windows below. The ship might as well have been a rock sitting in the water, for all the life and personality it showed. Curious. Very curious.

  The thrill of beating Maximus was wearing off, and I was growing tired, so I followed my friends the rest of the way across the bridge.

  We made it back to the Bellonan camp. Cheery music trilled through the air, and people were moving through the rows of tents, into the common areas, and back again, drinking, dancing, singing, and laughing. Everyone had thoroughly enjoyed the first day of the Regalia.

  My friends split off to take care of their chores, while Sullivan and I stepped into my tent. Calandre and her two sisters were waiting to help me undress, and there was one other person—or creature—inside my canvas chambers.

  Lyra.

  The strix was still in her coldiron cage, which had been placed on a long table along one of the tent walls. Driscol’s chest of gold coins and Zariza’s ogre pendant also glimmered on the table. Camille and Cerana were bent down, peering through the bars at Lyra, who stared back at them, not moving a single feather.

  “I see that you had an eventful evening,” Calandre drawled.

  “Oh, yes. I leave in a ball gown and come back with my very own strix. Why, it’s like I’m living a fairy tale.”

  She laughed, while her sisters continued to stare at the strix. Lyra stared back at all of us, still not moving a single feather, although I could smell the creature’s wariness and suspicion. She probably thought I was going to cut her throat and drink her blood like Maximus had done to the other strix. I shuddered at the thought. I could still smell the poor creature’s blood in my nose—and the magic it had given the Mortan king.

  “What are you going to do with it?” Calandre asked.

  “I have no idea. I don’t even know what strixes eat.”

  “Mostly rabbits, mice, and other small animals, just like gargoyles do,” Sullivan said. “Along with seeds, bugs, and the like. But from what I’ve read, they mostly eat meat.”

  “Well, please ask the guards outside to fetch some meat. I don’t want it to be hungry.”

  “Of course, highness. I’ll go with the guards and see what we can find for the creature to eat.” Sullivan nodded at me and left the tent.

  Calandre and her sisters bustled forward, helping me out of the ball gown, pulling off my sandals, and cleaning what was left of the makeup off my face. Calandre laid out some nightclothes, but I slipped back into a regular tunic, leggings, and boots and cinched my weapons belt around my waist, just in case some new crisis arose before Sullivan returned.

  Calandre and her sisters wished me good night, then left. Sullivan hadn’t returned yet, so I walked over, bent down, and peered at Lyra.

  She had been completely quiet and still while Calandre and her sisters had been moving around the tent. I waited, thinking the creature might squawk or let out some other sound now that it was just the two of us, but she remained in the back of her cage, with her body pressed up against the metal bars.

  “I’m not going to hurt you,” I said in a soft voice. “But I’m going to leave you in your cage for now, in case you have any ideas about flying across the river to Leonidas. I know that he’s your human, and you’re his strix, but going back will only get you killed. You saw what happened to the other strix. The same thing will happen to you if you try to return to Leonidas. Maximus won’t let you get away again.”

  Lyra eyed me, but she still didn’t make a sound. I knew that she could talk, but apparently she didn’t want to talk to me. Couldn’t blame her for that. I was a stranger, and she came from a land where most people weren’t kind to her or anyone else.

  “How about a compromise?” I suggested. “I’ll open your cage to prove that I’m not going to hurt you. Just don’t peck me to death in the middle of the night, okay?”

  Lyra kept eyeing me, but she still didn’t move or make any noise. I sighed, wondering if I was making a mistake, but I reached forward and wrapped my hand around the small padlock on the front of the cage.

  Purple lightning exploded the second my fingers touched the metal.

  In an instant, the cold blast of power congealed into hailstones with sharp, jagged edges. The pellets shot out from the padlock and punch-punch-punched into my palm like frozen, serrated hammers.

  This magic was much more powerful than what Maximus had used to stun the strix at the ball, and the force of the blast knocked me back five feet. My immunity kept the hailstones from piercing my skin, although the hard, heavy blows still bruised my fingers.

  The pellets dropped to the ground, but bolts of cold lightning kept crackling against my skin, making me hiss with pain. I quickly snuffed them out with my immunity, although the icy, stinging shocks still reverberated all the way up my arm. If anyone else had touched the contraption, their skin would have been horribly cut, bruised, and frozen all at once.

  I wasn’t surprised that Maximus had been petty enough to booby-trap the padlock, but he’d used far more power on it than I’d expected. Then again, who cared how much power you used on a simple lock when you could just drink strix blood and get some more? Magic was probably as common as water to Maximus, and I doubted he ever thought about how much he was truly using, since he had a seemingly endless supply.

  I stepped forward, flexed my fingers, and grabbed the padlock again. My immunity was stronger than the remaining magic, and it soon fizzled away into a shower of hot purple sparks. I let out a breath, flexed my fingers, and wiped the sweat off my forehead.

  “There,” I said, unhooking the lock and setting it aside. “Now, if you want to get out, all you have to do is push the door open with your wing. Okay? Isn’t that better?”

  Lyra kept staring at me with big, bright, unreadable eyes. She seemed determined to remain still and stoic, so I sighed. Maybe she would warm up to me later.

  I had started to turn away from her cage when Lyra’s eyes widened, and she let out a loud squawk. I frowned, wondering what had suddenly excited her. I drew in a breath, and the stench of magic filled my nose.

  That was all the warning I had before a dagger zoomed out of the shadows, heading straight for my heart.

  Chapter Seventeen

  There was no time to duck, so I snapped up my hand and reached for my immunity, pretending that it was an invisible shield spreading out from my palm and covering my chest. Then, at the last instant, right before the dagger would have plunged into my chest, I flicked my fingers to the left and used my magic to knock the blade off cou
rse. The weapon flew through the air and stuck in the thick wooden support pole in the center of the tent.

  My attacker growled in apparent frustration, and a slender figure wrapped in a midnight-purple cloak ran toward me. I didn’t know how the assassin had gotten past the guards stationed around the Bellonan camp, much less into my tent, but it was going to be the last mistake they ever made. Determination surged through me. This assassin would die just like all the others had.

  A hood covered the assassin’s head and cast their face in shadow, but the dagger in their hand was clearly visible. The assassin swiped out with the weapon, but it was a weak, awkward, clumsy attempt. I spun out of the way, whirled around, and yanked my sword out of its scabbard.

  The assassin hesitated, then grabbed another dagger from the folds of their cloak and came at me again. This strike was a little more deliberate and skilled, but the assassin didn’t have my gladiator training, and I easily avoided the attack.

  The assassin lurched past me, and I stuck my foot out, tripping the figure, and sending them crashing to their knees. The assassin hit the ground hard, and both daggers skittered out of their hands and tumbled end over end along the ground.

  I hurried forward, grabbed the assassin’s shoulder, and yanked them to their feet. Then I churned my legs, forcing the figure across the chambers until their back slammed up against the center support pole. I started to shove my sword into the assassin’s throat, but the figure jerked to the side, and their hood slid down, revealing their features. Black hair, amethyst eyes, young frightened face.

  Leonidas.

  I cursed and managed to stop my swing, my sword hovering an inch away from the boy’s neck. “What are you doing here? Why are you trying to kill me?”