I was a Bellonan, and I was just as good at playing the long game as everyone else. And through it all, I would keep one thing in mind, the most important thing that Vasilia had ever taught me, and perhaps the one thing that would keep me alive through all the coming trials and tribulations.
Someone always wanted to kill the queen.
Acknowledgments
My heartfelt thanks go out to all the folks who help turn my words into a book.
Thanks go to my agent, Annelise Robey, and my editor, Erika Tsang, for all their helpful advice, support, and encouragement. Thanks also to Nicole Fischer and everyone else at Harper Voyager and HarperCollins.
And finally, a big thanks to all the readers. Knowing that folks read and enjoy my books is truly humbling, and I hope that you all enjoy reading about Evie and her adventures.
I appreciate you all more than you will ever know.
Happy reading! ☺
An Excerpt from Protect the Prince
Read on for a sneak peek at the next thrilling installment in Jennifer Estep’s A Crown of Shards series!
PROTECT THE PRINCE
Coming in 2019
Chapter One
Pretty, pretty princes,
All in a row.
Who will they marry?
Where will they go?
This girl, that girl,
Maid, lady, queen.
Who snares the princes’ hearts
Remains to be seen.
—Andvarian court song
The day of the first assassination attempt started out like any other.
With me girding myself for battle.
I perched stiffly in a chair in front of a vanity table that took up the corner of the room. The long, rectangular table was made of the blackest ebony and adorned with all sorts of drawers and cubbyholes, along with crystal knobs that glinted at me like mocking eyes.
The morning sun slipped in past the white lace curtains and highlighted the tabletop, which featured carvings of gladiators clutching swords, shields, and daggers. I looked down at the figures, which were embossed with bits of metal, along with tiny jewels. They too seemed to stare at and mock me, as if they knew that I shouldn’t be here.
I leaned forward and traced my fingers over the carvings, wincing as the metal tips of the weapons and the sharp facets of the jeweled eyes dug into my skin. I wondered how many other women had sat here and done this same thing. Dozens, if not more. I also wondered if they’d all been as uncomfortable as I was.
Probably not.
After all, this table and all the other fine furnishings in these chambers had been their birthright, passed down from mother to daughter through the generations. The women who’d come before me hadn’t stumbled into this position by accident like I had.
Someone delicately cleared her throat, and I leaned back into my previous stiff perch. Fingers fluttered all around me, adjusting my sleeves, smoothing down my hair, and even slicking berry balm onto my lips. A minute later, the fingers retreated, and I raised my gaze to the domed mirror that rose up from the table like gladiator arenas did from the Svalin city landscape.
More figures were carved into the band of wood that encased the mirror. Gargoyles with sapphire eyes and curved, silver horns that were pointed at the strixes, hawklike birds with onyx feathers that glinted with a metallic, amethyst sheen. The creatures looked like they were about to leap out of the wood, take flight, and tear into each other, just like the gladiators on the table did. A single pearl-white caladrius with tearstone eyes adorned the very top of the mirror, as though the tiny, owlish bird was peering down at all the other creatures below, including me.
Someone cleared her throat again. I sighed and finally focused on my reflection.
Black hair, gray-blue eyes, pale, tight face. I looked the same as always, except for one notable thing.
The crown on my head.
My gaze locked onto the silver band, which was thin and surprisingly plain, except for the small midnight-blue pieces of tearstone that jutted up from the center. The seven tearstone shards fitted together to form a crown, as if the silver band itself wasn’t enough indication of who and what I was now.
But it wasn’t the only crown that I was wearing.
I reached over with my left hand and touched the bracelet that circled my right wrist. It was made of curls of silver that had been twisted together to resemble sharp thorns, all of which wrapped around and protected the elegant crown in the middle of the design. The crown embedded in the bracelet was also made of seven tearstone shards, but it contained one thing that the actual crown on top of my head did not.
Magic.
Like other jewels, tearstone could absorb, store, and reflect back magic, but it also had the unique property of offering protection from magic—deflecting it like a gladiator’s shield would stop a sword in an arena fight. Each midnight-blue shard in my bracelet was filled with a cold, hard power that was similar to my own magical immunity. The cool touch of the jewelry comforted me, as did the magic flowing through it.
I was going to need all the help that I could get today.
Someone cleared her throat for a third time, and I dropped my hand from my bracelet and focused on my reflection again.
I slowly tilted my head to the side, and the silver crown swayed dangerously to the right. I straightened up and tilted my head to the other side, and it swayed in that direction.
“I still feel like this stupid thing is going to fall off at any second,” I muttered.
“It will not fall off, my queen,” a low, soothing voice murmured. “We’ve put plenty of pins in your hair to make sure that doesn’t happen.”
A woman stepped up beside me. She was on the short side, and the top of her head wasn’t all that much higher than mine, even though I was sitting down. She was about my age—twenty-seven or so—and quite lovely, with blue eyes, rosy skin, and dark honey-blond hair that was pulled back into a pretty fishtail braid that trailed down over her shoulder. She had a thick, strong body, but her fingers were long and lean and freckled with small white scars from all the pins and needles that had accidentally poked into her skin over the years.
Lady Calanthe had been Queen Cordelia’s personal thread master for the last few months of the queen’s life. And now she was mine. As were her two teenage sisters, Camille and Cerana, who were hovering behind her.
“Are you pleased with your appearance, my queen?” Calanthe asked.
I studied my blue tunic in the mirror. A crown of shards had been stitched in silver thread over my heart, while still more silver thread scrolled across my neckline and then down my sleeves, as though I had wrapped myself in thorns. Black leggings and boots completed my outfit.
“Of course,” I said. “Your work is exquisite, as always.”
Calanthe nodded, accepting the compliment, and pride gleamed in her eyes. She reached up and adjusted the long bell sleeves of her blue gown, even though they were already perfectly draped in place. They too were trimmed with silver thread, in keeping with the colors of the Winter line of the Blair royal family.
My colors now.
“I still wish that you had let me make you something more formal,” Calanthe murmured. “I could have easily done it with my magic, despite the limited time.”
She was a master, which meant that her magic let her work with a specific object or element to create amazing things. In Calanthe’s case, she had complete control over thread, fabrics, and the like. My nose twitched. My own magic let me smell her power on my tunic, a faint, vinegary odor that was the same as the dyes that she used to give her garments their bold, glorious colors.
Calanthe had tried to get me to don a ball gown for today’s event, but I’d refused. I wasn’t the queen that everyone had expected, and I certainly wasn’t the one that they wanted, so draping myself in layers of silk and cascades of jewels seemed silly and pointless. Besides, you couldn’t fight in ball gowns. Although in that regard, it didn’t really matter what I w
ore, since every day at Seven Spire palace was a battle for me.
“Forget the clothes,” another voice chimed in. “I still can’t believe that people sent you all this stuff.”
I turned around in my chair and looked over at a tall woman with braided blond hair and beautiful bronze skin who was lounging on a velvet settee. She was wearing a forest-green tunic that brought out her golden amber eyes, along with black leggings and boots. A large mace was propped up next to her on the settee, with the spikes slowly sinking into the cushions.
Paloma waved her hand at the low table in front of her. “C’mon. How much stuff does one queen need?”
Every available inch of the table was covered with baskets, bowls, and platters brimming with everything from fresh produce to smelly cheeses to bottles of champagne. The other tables scattered throughout the room boasted similar items, as did the writing desk, the nightstand beside the four-poster bed, and the top of the armoire that took up one wall. Not to mention the cloaks, gowns, and other garments that were piled up in the corners, or the paintings, statues, and other knickknacks that were propped up against the walls. I’d gotten so many welcome gifts over the past several weeks that I’d resorted to perching them on the windowsills, just so that I would be able to walk through the room.
Paloma grabbed a white card out of a basket on the table. “Who is Lady Diante, and why did she send you a basket full of pears?”
“Lady Diante is a wealthy noble who owns fruit orchards in one of the southern districts,” I said. “And it’s a Bellonan tradition to send the new queen a gift wishing her a long and prosperous reign.”
Paloma snorted. “Funny tradition, sending a gift to someone you’re plotting against.”
Calanthe’s lips puckered, and her two sisters let out audible gasps. Calanthe was a Bellonan courtier who was traditional and polite to a fault. She didn’t much care for Paloma’s bluntness about Diante’s lack of fealty, but she didn’t say anything. She might be a talented master, but Paloma was a much stronger morph.
Calanthe stared at the morph mark on Paloma’s neck. All morphs had some sort of tattoo-like mark on their bodies that indicated what monster or creature they could shift into. Paloma’s mark was a fearsome ogre face with amber eyes, a lock of blond hair, and plenty of sharp teeth.
The ogre must have sensed Calanthe’s disapproving gaze, because its blinking liquid amber eyes shifted in her direction. The ogre stared at her a moment, then opened its mouth wide in a silent laugh. Calanthe’s lips puckered even more, and she let out an indignant sniff, which only made the ogre laugh again.
“Well, then, perhaps you should taste test the pears,” I sniped. “Just to make sure that Lady Diante isn’t trying to poison me with fresh fruit.”
“I think that’s an excellent idea,” Paloma drawled. “Especially since I know that mutt nose of yours would never be able to stand having a basket of poisoned fruit in here.”
Calanthe winced, and her two sisters gasped again at Paloma so casually calling me a mutt, since it was a derogatory term for those who had little to no magic. But I didn’t mind. I had been called far worse things. Besides, Paloma was my best friend, and I found her honesty refreshing, especially after so many years of people smiling to my face, then spewing poison behind my back the second they got the chance.
I gave Paloma a sour look, but she plucked a pear from the basket and sank her teeth into it. She grinned at me, as did the ogre face on her neck.
“See?” she mumbled. “No poison at all.”
I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t help but grin back at her.
“Well, eat fast,” I said, getting to my feet. “Because now that I’m properly attired, it’s time for our first battle of the day.”
* * *
I thanked Calanthe and her sisters for their services. The thread master curtsied to me, gave Paloma another disapproving sniff, then left. While Paloma polished off that first pear and ate another one, I cinched a black leather belt around my waist, then hooked a sword and a dagger to it.
A queen shouldn’t have to carry weapons, at least not inside her own palace, but then again, I was no ordinary queen.
And these were far from ordinary weapons.
The sword and the dagger both gleamed a dull silver, and both of their hilts featured seven midnight-blue shards that formed my crown crest. But what made the weapons special was that they were made entirely of tearstone. The sword and the dagger were far lighter than normal blades, and they would also absorb and deflect magic, just like the tearstone shards in my bracelet would.
A matching silver shield was propped up beside my bed, but I decided not to strap it to my arm. Carrying a sword and a dagger was noteworthy enough, but taking the shield as well would make me seem weak, something that I could ill afford, given my tenuous grasp on the throne.
I traced my fingers over the crown crest in the sword’s hilt. Despite their dark blue hue, the tearstone shards glittered brightly. Part of me hated the crown of shards and everything it stood for. But in a strange way, the symbol comforted me as well. Other Blairs, other Winter queens, had survived life at Seven Spire. Perhaps I could too.
Time to find out.
Paloma finished her second pear. Then she got to her feet, grabbed her spiked mace, and hoisted it up onto her shoulder. The weapon made her look even more intimidating. “You ready for this?”
I blew out a breath. “I suppose I have to be, don’t I?”
She shrugged. “It’s not too late. We could still sneak out of here, run off, and join a gladiator troupe.”
I snorted. “Please. I wouldn’t get across the river before Serilda and Auster hunted me down and dragged me back.”
Paloma shrugged again, but she didn’t dispute my words. Then she grinned at me, as did the ogre on her neck. “Well, then, you should give Serilda, Auster, and everyone else what they’ve been waiting for.”
I snorted again. “The only thing they’ve been waiting for is to see who makes the first move against me. But you’re right. I might as well get on with it.”
I touched my sword and dagger again, letting the feel of the weapons comfort me, then walked over and stopped in front of the double doors. Just like on the vanity table, gladiators and other figures were carved into the wood. I stared at them a moment, then let out a long, tense breath, schooled my face into a blank, pleasant mask, and threw open the doors.
As soon as I stepped out into the hallway, the two guards posted by the doors snapped to attention. They were both wearing the standard uniform of a plain silver breastplate over a short-sleeve blue tunic with black leggings and boots, and each one had a sword buckled to their black belt.
I smiled at the guards. “Alonzo, Calios, you’re both looking well this morning.”
The guards bowed their heads, but that was their only response. Several months ago, back when I’d just been Lady Everleigh, the guards would have talked, laughed, and joked with me. Now they just stared at me with wariness in their eyes, wondering if I would do or say something to hurt them. I tried not to grimace at their watchful, distrustful silence.
I forced myself to smile at them again, then set off down the hallway. Paloma fell in step beside me, her spiked mace still propped up on her shoulder. In addition to being my best friend, Paloma was also my personal guard, and the former gladiator took great pride in casually threatening anyone who came near me.
The queen’s chambers were located on the third floor, and we quickly wound our way down several flights of steps until we reached the first level.
Seven Spire palace was the heart of Svalin, the capital city of Bellona, and just about everything in the wide hallways and spacious common areas was a tribute to the kingdom’s gladiator history and tradition, from the tapestries that covered the dark gray walls, to the statues tucked away in various nooks, to the wooden display cases bristling with swords, spears, daggers, and shields that famous queens and warriors had used long ago.
But the most obvious sig
ns of Bellona’s past were the columns that adorned practically every hallway and room. Before it was a palace, Seven Spire had been a mine, and the columns were the supports for the old tunnels where my Blair ancestors had dug fluorestone and more out of the mountain. Over the years, the columns had been transformed into works of art, and now they were covered with gladiators, weapons, gargoyles, strixes, and caladriuses, just like the furnishings in the queen’s chambers.
But what made the columns truly impressive was that they were all made of tearstone, which could change color, going from a light, bright, starry gray to a dark, deep midnight-blue, and back again, depending on the sunlight and other factors. I had always thought that the tearstone’s shifting hues brought the gladiators and creatures to life, making it seem as though they were circling around the columns and constantly battling each other.
I stared at the column closest to me a moment longer, then forced myself to focus on the people inside the palace. After all, they were the ones who could truly hurt me.
Even though it was early on a Monday morning, people filled the hallways. Servants carrying trays of food and drinks. Palace stewards heading to their posts to oversee their workers. Guards stationed here and there, making sure that everything proceeded in an orderly fashion.
Everyone went about their business as usual—until they saw me.
Then eyes widened, mouths gaped open, and heads bobbed. Some people even dropped down into low, formal bows and curtsies, only rising to their feet after I had moved past them. I gritted my teeth and returned the acknowledgments with polite smiles and nods of my own, but the bowing and scraping were nothing compared to the whispers.
Kill the Queen (Crown of Shards #1) Page 38