Crush the King

by Jennifer Estep

  He loosened his grip on my throat, just a bit, and I sucked down a breath, readying myself. “Well?” he demanded. “Start begging. I might let you go on for a minute or two before I finally kill you.”

  “Never,” I hissed. “But it’s going to be so fucking sweet to hear you beg for yours.”

  He frowned, not understanding what I meant, but I didn’t care. Instead, I shoved my hand forward, forcing my fingers through one of the openings I’d sliced in the front of his fancy leather tunic.

  “What are you—”

  Maximus never got to finish his thought. My fingers touched his bare skin, and I dug my nails into one of the shallow slices I’d opened up on his chest. His blood crackled against my fingertips, just like his lightning had earlier. Only this time, instead of blocking his magic, I went on the offensive and sent my immunity shooting out at him.

  The cold, hard power of my immunity punched into his chest, tearing his hand from my throat and sending him staggering back. He also lost his grip on his sword, and the weapon flew out of his hand and landed on the ground.

  I scrambled to my feet and surged forward, closing the distance between us. This time, I hit him in the stomach with my actual fist, but I also drove the force of my immunity into his body at the same time.

  My fist didn’t do all that much damage, but I felt something . . . crack deep inside him, like my immunity was a piece of gravel that had just flown up and chipped a windowpane.

  So I hit him again.

  And then again.

  And then again.

  Once again, I danced, spinning, turning, whirling, twirling. I landed punch after punch to Maximus’s chest, and with each blow, I battered him with my immunity as well. Every time I hit him, I felt a little bit more of his stolen power crack away, and the sensation made me even more determined to finish him.

  “You think I’m a freak of nature?” I yelled. “You want to kill the last of the Blairs? The final Winter queen? Well, let me show you just how strong I am!”

  At first Maximus didn’t seem to realize what I was doing, but he must have started feeling weaker, because he screamed and started punching me back. He hit me in the face, chest, and arms over and over again, putting his own stolen magic and strength into each and every one of the blows. But I’d been a Black Swan gladiator and I had taken more than one hard shot in the training ring, so I shrugged off the blows and concentrated on landing my own in return. Taking away his magic was more important than him giving me a black eye or bruised ribs.

  Maximus drew back his fist for another blow, but I darted forward and kicked his leg out from under him. Maximus shrieked and crumpled to the ground. Then, before he could recover, I threw myself down on top of him and started pummeling him with my fists and my immunity.

  And this time, I didn’t stop.

  Punch.

  Punch-punch.

  Punch.

  I hit him over and over again, driving the brutal force of my immunity into his body with every blow. My knuckles busted open and started bleeding, but the small stings of pain made me even more determined to finish this. So I drew back both my fists and reached for even more of my immunity.

  “No!” Maximus screamed. “Don’t!”

  He lifted one of his hands, and more purple lightning sparked on his fingertips, but I ignored the magic and focused on my own immunity. This was my chance to finally destroy his power once and for all.

  We both struck at the same time.

  Maximus blasted me in the face with his cold lightning, and I slammed my fists and my power down onto his heart as hard as I could.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  For a moment, the entire arena turned that bright, eerie electric purple that I had come to despise so much. Then the lightning streaking toward me shattered like frozen glass, and another loud, concussive boom rang out. The force threw me away from Maximus and seemed to shake the arena from top to bottom, making the crowd scream in fear and surprise.

  I landed hard on my ass on the opposite side of the ring, but I forced myself to stagger back up to my feet. Across from me, Maximus did the same. He snarled and lifted his hand to blast me with his cold lightning again.

  But nothing happened.

  No sparks flashed on his fingertips, no power flickered in his eyes, no gusts of magic swirled in the air around him. I drew in a breath, but he didn’t even smell of magic anymore—just blood, sweat, and dust.

  That’s when I knew that I had finally won.

  Maximus raised his hand and tried again, and again, but with the same nothing results as before. He glanced down at his fingers, then raised his harsh, accusing gaze to me.

  “What have you done?” he said, his voice rising to a scream. “What have you done to me?”

  “I took away your magic,” I hissed back. “You killed all those strixes and drank their blood. Well, I crushed all that power. I crushed all the magic inside you. Just like that.”

  I snapped my fingers, and he flinched at the sound.

  Maximus stared at me, horror filling his eyes, along with something that I had wanted to see for a long, long time.

  Complete, utter, absolute fear.

  Without that stolen magic running through his veins, Maximus was nothing but a bully with a crown, and he knew it as well as I did.

  But he wasn’t ready to admit defeat, and his hands slowly clenched into fists, even as fury shimmered in his eyes. “This isn’t over,” he snarled. “You haven’t won anything, Everleigh. Not one fucking thing.”

  “Then let’s finish it.”

  I leaned down and picked up my sword. Then I gestured at Maximus’s weapon, which was lying a few feet away. But the idea that we settle this like real gladiators, with only our swords and our fighting skills, instead of tricks and stolen magic, further infuriated him, and he made no move to pick up his own weapon.

  I tightened my grip on my sword. He didn’t want to fight back with his sword? Fine by me. I would cut the bastard down where he stood with a smile on my face and a song in my heart.

  More and more rage sparked in Maximus’s eyes, and he finally gave in to it.

  “This isn’t over!” he screamed. “I’ll get more magic! More power! No matter who I have to slaughter—”

  “No, you won’t.” A low, silky voice cut him off.

  We both whirled around.

  Maeven was here.

  She stepped out of the same archway I had come through and strode across the arena floor, heading toward us.

  Cho was hovering just outside the black ring, and he waved his hand, catching my eye. He turned his arm to the side, giving me a look at the dagger clutched in his fingertips, but I shook my head the tiniest bit, telling him not to interfere. I wanted to see if this would play out the way I hoped it would.

  Instead of fighting leathers, Maeven was dressed in a lovely lilac gown, and her blond hair was pulled back into its usual sleek bun. Amethysts glittered around her throat and on her wrists and fingers. Even across the arena, I could smell the power in the jewels, but it was nothing compared to the power that Maeven herself had—power that was all hers, and not what she had stolen from others.

  Maeven picked up her skirt and stepped into the black ring. She glanced at me a moment, then moved over to stand in front of her brother. I kept my sword up, ready for her to whirl around, blast me with her lightning, and try to kill me the way she had so many times before.

  But she didn’t.

  Instead, Maeven crossed her arms over her chest and studied her brother, her cold gaze flicking up and down his body and taking in his disheveled blond hair, his tattered fighting leathers, and the bloody cuts that crisscrossed his skin. Her lips puckered, but I couldn’t tell if her sour expression was due to her brother’s appearance or the fact that he hadn’t killed me yet.

  “Look at you,” Maeven said, her voice dripping with disgust. “The mighty king of Morta crying like a petulant child at the loss of his precious magic.”

  Maximus’
s eyes narrowed. “How dare you speak to me like that. I’ll—”

  “You’ll do what?” Maeven sneered, cutting him off again. “Have me put in chains? Beaten? Tortured? You’ve already done all that and far worse.”

  “What does it matter?” he said. “Turn around and blast that Blair bitch with your magic. Kill her where she stands. That’s your duty. So fucking do it.”

  Maeven tilted her head to the side, making the amethysts around her neck sparkle and flash in the sunlight. “I’ve been thinking a lot about duty lately, especially when it comes to my many years of service in the Bastard Brigade. Service that you’ve never rewarded me for.”

  “Why would I reward you for anything?” Maximus hissed. “You’re just a bastard, just a tool for me to use however I like, just as all the other kings have done before me.”

  Maeven’s lips curved up into a grim smile. “I know that I’m a bastard,” she replied. “You never let me forget it. Not for one bloody second. Even though I was smarter than you as a child, and stronger, and had more natural magic, you always thought you were so much better than me. And now look at you. Without your precious tearstone drug and stolen magic, you’re nothing but a whiny little brat.” She shook her head. “You are so weak.”

  Maximus’s hands clenched into fists, and he moved forward, that arrogant sneer still on his face as he peered down his nose at her. “Weak? I’m not weak. You’re the one who’s weak. Always trying to help the other members of your precious Bastard Brigade. Always coddling that younger son of yours. Always trying to protect and shield him from me. Well, this is the last time you insult me or disobey one of my orders, sister dear. I’m going to have that boy flayed alive right in front of you. Maybe then you’ll finally remember your place.”

  Instead of being frightened by his threats, Maeven laughed in his face. Maximus blinked and reared back, as if he were utterly shocked that she would do such a thing, especially here, now, in front of thousands of people.

  Finally, her chuckles faded away. “Face it, brother dear. You’re not going to be doing very much of anything without your magic. Especially not torturing me and my son.”

  Maximus kept glaring down his nose at her. “I’ll get more magic. You know I will. I always do.”

  Maeven shook her head, as if deeply disappointed that he hadn’t listened to a single word she’d said, much less understood what they really meant. I did, though, and I knew exactly why she was here.

  “I told you before,” she said. “No, you won’t.”

  Maximus sucked in a breath, probably to insult her again, but he never got the chance.

  Maeven plucked a dagger out of her long sleeve and buried it in her brother’s heart.

  Maximus screamed and tried to jerk away, but Maeven grabbed his shoulder and held him in place, slowly, brutally, methodically twisting the dagger in deeper and deeper. Maximus’s eyes bulged in pain, and his panicked screams quickly died down to raspy, choking gurgles.

  “Goodbye, brother,” she said in a calm, cold voice. “My only regret is that I couldn’t make your death last for days, weeks, months, years even. But we don’t always get what we want, do we?”

  Maeven stared her brother in the eyes a moment longer, then ripped the dagger out of his chest and sliced it across his throat. Blood sprayed all over the front of her dress, but Maeven didn’t seem to mind, given her wide, satisfied smile.

  Maximus let out a final, strangled gurgle. Then his eyes rolled up in the back of his head, and he crumpled to the arena floor.

  The king of Morta was dead.

  * * *

  A tense, heavy silence dropped over the arena. No one could believe what had just happened. That I had defeated Maximus, and that Maeven, his own sister, had so coldly executed him.

  Maeven faced me, and I tightened my grip on my sword, expecting her to attack me next.

  “You were wrong, Everleigh,” she said, a satisfied sneer twisting her face. “I didn’t have to run away from my brother, and I don’t have to give up trying to kill you—”

  “You bitch!” a voice roared out. “You traitorous bitch!”

  Maeven and I both looked up. The screams were coming from the royal terrace. Mercer was on his feet, his face red with mottled rage, and purple lightning crackling around his clenched fists.

  He stabbed a finger at Maeven. “You won’t get away with this! I’ll come down there and kill you myself, you murderous, treacherous bitch—”

  Nox slipped up behind Mercer, dug his hand into his cousin’s hair, yanked his head back, and cut his throat.

  Mercer clapped his hands over his neck, as if he could somehow keep all that precious blood inside him where it belonged. Nox stepped to the side so that he could see his cousin’s shocked face. He looked at Mercer a moment, then coolly lashed out with his boot and kicked his cousin off the terrace. The Mortan crown prince toppled over the wrought-iron railing, dropped down, and landed with a loud, sickening crack on the bleacher steps fifty feet below. People screamed and scrambled away from his broken, twisted body.

  That tense, heavy silence dropped over the arena again. Nox looked at Maeven. He tipped his head to her, and she did the same to him. Then Nox held his bloody dagger high in the air before dropping to one knee.

  “Long live the queen!” he yelled. “Long live Queen Maeven!”

  For a few seconds, there was more tense, heavy silence. Then several of the Mortan nobles and merchants on the terrace also dropped to their knees. It was easy to see which way the wind was blowing and what needed to be done in order to survive, and all the other Mortans, including the guards, quickly lowered themselves to the ground and took up Nox’s chant.

  “Maeven! Maeven! Maeven!”

  Maeven lifted her chin, smiling at the sudden adoration, but not everyone was joining in with the cheers. Leonidas was staring at his mother with wide eyes, as if she were some strange, horrifying creature he had never seen before. Several of the Mortan nobles on the terrace looked stunned, while others were giving Maeven speculative looks, the wheels already turning in their minds as they thought about what her reign would mean for them.

  Finally, the cheers died down. Maeven turned and gave me a traditional Bellonan curtsy. I couldn’t tell if she was mocking me or not.

  After a few seconds, Maeven climbed back to her feet. Then she moved forward and stopped right in front of me. “Like I said before, Maximus wasn’t the only one who was wrong,” she purred. “So were you, Everleigh.”

  “And what was I so wrong about?”

  “I didn’t have to leave Morta to escape my brother,” she replied. “I just had to kill him and take the crown that should have been mine all along.”

  I didn’t respond to her taunt, although I kept a tight grip on my sword, just in case she tried to kill me again. But Maeven had other ideas, at least for today, and she looked me up and down the same way she had Maximus earlier.

  “Go get cleaned up, Everleigh,” she purred. “You look a fright. After all, there is still a royal ball to attend tonight.”

  She sneered at me again, then picked up her skirt, stepped over her brother’s body, and left the arena floor.

  The second that Maeven vanished, everyone started talking and yelling, chattering on and on about this strange, shocking, brutal turn of events. I stayed where I was on the arena floor, watching, but Maeven didn’t double back. Then again, why would she? She had just become the queen of Morta. She had far more important things to think about right now than killing me.

  “Evie! Evie!”

  I glanced over my shoulder. Paloma and Sullivan had made their way down the bleacher steps and were running across the arena floor, their weapons clutched in their hands.

  “Highness!” Sullivan said, stopping in front of me. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine. Just a little tired, bruised, and bloody.”

  Sullivan wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me close. I leaned my head against his shoulder, soaking up his quiet stren
gth and drawing his clean vanilla scent into my lungs.

  Paloma looked down at Maximus’s body, then over at the archway that Maeven had walked through. Finally, she turned to me.

  Paloma frowned. “Why are you smiling? Maximus might be dead, but now Maeven is queen.”

  My smile widened. “I know.”

  Paloma frowned again. Sullivan frowned at me as well, as did Cho, but I didn’t feel like explaining myself right now, so I grabbed my shield and jerked my head toward the same archway Maeven had used.

  “Come on,” I said. “Let’s get out of here.”

  With my friends by my side, I stepped over Maximus’s body and left the arena. The king was dead.

  Long live the queens.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Many of the spectators were still gathered on the plaza outside the arena, and they started yelling, cheering, and clapping when I emerged out of the archway. I hadn’t killed Maximus, but I had still given them a bloody good show, and they wanted to show their appreciation. I forced myself to smile, lift my hand, and wave to the people.

  Captain Auster, Xenia, and Serilda were waiting for us there, along with Leonidas and the Bellonan guards, and we slowly threaded our way through the crowds. So many people were on the steps and packed into the plazas along the waterfront that it took us twice as long as normal to get back to the bridge, especially since everyone started yelling and cheering when they caught sight of me. By the time we finally made it back to the Bellonan camp, my cheeks were burning and my arms were aching from smiling and waving for so long.

  I gave a final round of smiles and waves to everyone in the Bellonan camp, then escaped into my tent. Calandre and her sisters helped me out of my bloody fighting leathers and into a hot bath, while Aisha healed my frozen skin and other injuries. Once I got cleaned up, I crawled into bed, although I told Calandre to wake me in time to get ready for the ball.

  I fell asleep almost immediately, and for once my rest was calm and devoid of any nightmarish dreams or memories. Perhaps that was because I knew I had finally beaten Maximus.