Capture the Crown

by Estep, Jennifer

  Her words were innocent enough, and I managed to hide the grimace twisting my face until she moved away. She was far closer to the truth than she realized.

  If I lived through the dinner, then I would consider it one of the crowning achievements of my life thus far.

  Chapter Sixteen

  I spent the rest of the afternoon in Delmira’s chambers. The princess summoned her personal thread master, and the three of us went to her dressing room, along with Anaka and several other servants carrying platters of sweet cakes and other treats.

  Long metal racks set at varying heights adorned two of the walls, while floor-to-ceiling shelves lined the other two walls. Day dresses, ball gowns, tunics, leggings, and capes hung on the racks, while heels, boots, and slippers filled the shelves. A freestanding ebony island in the center of the room was studded with purple-velvet-lined drawers filled with jewelry, ribbons, brushes, hairpins, and berry balms.

  I was used to such finery at Glitnir, but my dressing room was a small, pale imitation of this opulence, and Delmira’s collection was truly dazzling. The Morricone princess seemed to love pretty things just as much as I did.

  “Now,” Delmira said, rubbing her hands together in anticipation. “Let’s see what Edna has created for us.”

  Edna, the thread master, snapped her fingers, and more servants streamed into the room, pushing several racks of dresses in front of them.

  To my surprise, I found myself relaxing and having fun. Delmira’s pleasantry wasn’t an act, and I genuinely liked the princess, who was firm without being cruel, and strong without being overbearing. She knew every servant’s name, and she inquired about their families while still maintaining control of the room. It was a difficult tightrope to walk, but Delmira did it beautifully.

  In another place and time, we could have been friends. But we were stuck in this place and time, and I had a part to play—Lady Armina, the noble from a small, distant town who was absolutely awed by the sights, sounds, and fashions of the royal palace. So I oohed and aahed over the truly fine dresses, as well as admired the beautiful jewelry and shoes.

  Delmira seemed pleased by my company, grinning and laughing at my jokes. More than once, I tried to skim her thoughts, but I still couldn’t slip past whatever magic was protecting her, so I settled for eavesdropping on the servants’ musings, but they were all calm, happy, and devoted to their princess. Even better, none of them were spies for Milo or anyone else.

  Two hours later, Delmira pronounced that we were finally ready for dinner. After trying on more than a dozen dresses, and making me do the same, she had decided on a strapless, lilac-colored gown patterned with black velvet vines and thorns, along with spikes of liladorn made of pale, almost translucent amethysts. Matching black velvet heels with amethyst-crusted toes glittered on her feet, and a short midnight-purple cape covered her shoulders. Her black hair had been braided into an elaborate crown that arched over her head, while dark plum berry balm stained her lips.

  I had donned a gown made of a dark silk that wasn’t quite purple but wasn’t quite blue either. I had picked it out because of the high neckline and the silver feathers fluttering down the front, both of which hid my gargoyle pendant. I’d also managed to smuggle my dagger and Leonidas’s silver compact into my dress pockets. Black velvet heels adorned my feet, and the servants had put loose, gentle waves into my hair and painted my lips a light violet.

  Edna wished us both a good night, then left the dressing room, along with Anaka and the other servants.

  “Are you sure you wouldn’t like a necklace or some other jewelry?” Delmira gestured at the ebony island. “I have plenty to choose from.”

  “No, thank you.” I reached up and patted my chest, making sure my pendant was in its usual place.

  Her eyes sharpened. Too late, I realized what I was doing. I dropped my hand, but she had already caught the motion.

  “What’s that?” she asked.

  “I . . . have my own necklace. It’s the only thing those awful bandits didn’t steal,” I lied.

  Delmira perked up. “I didn’t notice your necklace earlier. May I see it?”

  I bit my lip, silently cursing my foolishness, but I had no choice but to fish the silver chain out from under my gown and show her the pendant.

  “How pretty!” she exclaimed, bending down to get a closer look at it. “I adore the mix of black jet and blue tearstone. Was this made by Alvis, the famed Andvarian jeweler?”

  I blinked, surprised she knew his name. “Yes. How can you tell?”

  Delmira straightened. “The shards design, of course. It’s his trademark. I’ve long admired his pieces. I actually sent him a letter once, when I was a little girl, begging him to make something for me, but of course he never responded. Then again, why would he? Even as a child, I should have known better than to ask an Andvarian metalstone master for such a boon.”

  She let out a small, trilling laugh, playing her words off as a joke, but hurt rippled through the sound. And why had she called it a boon? I got the sense that Delmira had wanted more than just a pretty piece of jewelry, although I couldn’t imagine what she had hoped to gain by writing to Alvis.

  Delmira gave my pendant a wistful look. Then her eyes narrowed, and she seemed to see the design for the very first time. Her lips puckered in thought, making her look eerily like Maeven. “Although the gargoyle shape is quite unusual. I’ve never seen anyone wear that particular symbol before. At least, not in Myrkvior.”

  I grimaced. Of course she hadn’t. Gargoyles were an Andvarian creature and tradition, not a Mortan one. I scrambled to offer a reasonable explanation before she remembered that gargoyles were also the symbol for the Ripley royal family.

  “The pendant was a gift from a man who is like a second father to me, and I wear it as a way to keep him in my thoughts.”

  My voice sounded weak, even to my own ears, but Delmira nodded, as if my half-truths made perfect sense.

  “Come,” she said. “Dinner will begin soon.”

  She gave my necklace another longing glance and left the dressing room. I exhaled, then tucked the pendant back under my gown and followed her.

  Throngs of people dressed in gowns and formal jackets were strolling through the hallways, and everyone stopped and bowed their heads as Delmira passed them. She returned the gestures with smiles and nods of her own, while I trailed along in her wake. My gargoyle pendant grew warm against my chest as the thoughts of everyone we encountered rumbled through my mind.

  Delmira looks particularly lovely tonight . . .

  I wonder how Milo will treat Delmira at dinner . . .

  Such a sweet girl. Such a shame her magic is so weak . . .

  Delmira’s magic was weak? What kind of power did she even have? I latched onto that whisper and tried to probe deeper, but we swept past the person it belonged to, and the thought drowned in the waves of all the others slapping up against my mind.

  But the princess’s appearance wasn’t the only one that caused a commotion. More than a few thoughts focused on me.

  Who is that with Delmira?

  I’ve been trying to get the princess’s attention for months! And that nobody waltzes in here and becomes her new best friend in one day. It’s not fair! Not fair!

  She’s strolling along as though she’s someone important, instead of a poor country bumpkin from backwater Ravensrock who didn’t even have the common sense not to get robbed . . .

  My pendant grew even hotter against my skin, but I gritted my teeth, plastered a smile on my face, and ignored the cruel, snide thoughts.

  Eventually, we reached a set of double doors that stretched from the floor all the way up to the ceiling some two hundred feet overhead. Delmira stopped to chat with some nobles, so I peered through the opening.

  The doors led to an enormous throne room. A rectangular table with enough chairs for at least a hundred people ran down the center. Several smaller tables were arranged around it, and even more tables lined the second-fl
oor balcony.

  A raised dais made of dark gray stone stood in the back of the room. No throne perched on the platform, although several thick strands of liladorn wrapped around the base and snaked up the steps. A midnight-purple banner featuring the Morricone royal crest done in gleaming silver thread adorned the wall behind the dais.

  Scores of nobles, merchants, guilders, and courtiers were already inside, drinking wine and other spirits and nibbling on fresh fruits, cheeses, and crackers provided by the scurrying servants. Guards dressed in purple tunics with swords belted to their waists were stationed around the room, as well as on the second-floor balcony.

  A crush of nobles came up behind me, sweeping me away from Delmira and carrying me into the throne room. Even more people were in here than out in the corridors, and my gargoyle pendant grew uncomfortably hot against my heart, but I didn’t dare reach for it. That would attract even more unwanted attention than I was already getting, as well as leave my mind completely defenseless.

  Delmira must have lent that lady one of her gowns . . .

  She’s not nearly as pretty as I expected . . .

  Surely, she hasn’t caught the eye of Prince Leonidas . . .

  Maeven would never let her son marry anyone less than a princess . . .

  Once again, several cruel, snide thoughts whipped against my mind, and I slipped through the crowd until I was standing in the shadows beside one of the diamond-shaped columns that supported the second-floor balcony. At least here, I was mostly out of people’s lines of sight and, thus, their thoughts. I sighed with relief as the harsh buzz faded from my mind, and the pendant cooled against my skin.

  I had no desire to sit through a long, tedious dinner surrounded by people who would judge me all night long. Besides, if everyone was in here, then no one would see me skulk through the palace while I searched for Milo’s workshop.

  I was contemplating how I could slip out of the throne room without being seen when heels clattered on the flagstones and a shadow eased up on the floor next to mine. I kept my gaze fixed on the open doors in the distance. Perhaps if I ignored the person, they would wander away.

  The shadow crept a little closer, and a woman holding a crystal goblet stepped into view. I tensed, bracing myself for a snide comment about my borrowed dress, unfortunately small, unimportant hometown, or something else equally petty.

  “I’ve always wanted to visit Myrkvior,” the woman drawled. “Although I can’t imagine you feel the same way.”

  The soft words and familiar tone made me turn toward the woman, who was dressed in a long, tight emerald-green gown with a scalloped neckline and cap sleeves that showed off her muscled arms. A gold pendant shaped like a flying dragon hung from a gold chain around her neck. Emeralds glittered as the dragon’s eyes, and jet and ruby shards erupted out of its mouth, as if it were spewing smoke and fire. The pendant was eerily similar to the morph mark on the woman’s right hand—a green dragon with black eyes that was peering up at me with a smug expression.

  My gaze snapped up to the woman’s face. Bright green eyes, high cheekbones, long black hair. Reiko, the miner from Blauberg, the dragon morph who’d had such a lovely singing voice—the same voice I’d heard floating through the palace during that recital earlier.

  Shock spiked through me, and I was too stunned to try to hide it. “What are you doing here?”

  Reiko smirked at me. “I could ask the same thing of you . . . Gemma Ripley.”

  * * *

  The loud, noisy chatter filling the throne room faded away, and all I could hear were her words echoing in my mind, growing louder and louder with every repetition, like thunder rolling in my direction.

  Gemma Ripley, Gemma Ripley, Gemma Ripley . . .

  I gritted my teeth, shoved the echoes away, and glanced around. Reiko and I were standing in the shadows, and no one else had heard her words. I studied the other woman, forcing myself to think. Reiko could have easily screamed out my true identity at the top of her lungs, but instead, she had quietly sidled up to me.

  “What do you want?” I asked.

  She shrugged. “The same thing you do—to find the tearstone the Mortans stole from your mine.”

  More shock knifed through me, and I thought back to when Reiko had helped Leonidas rescue me in the mine. Everyone else had been wary of the prince, but she had seemed more thoughtful than anything else, as if she was carefully weighing everything that was happening and how it would impact future events. I had seen that same sort of calculation on Xenia’s face more than once, and I cursed myself for not realizing what Reiko was before now.

  “You’re a spy.”

  Reiko tipped her head, confirming my suspicion. “Just like you are.” She arched an eyebrow. “Although I wasn’t careless enough to get tossed into a chasm, rescued by a Morricone prince, and taken to Myrkvior. I’m surprised you haven’t been exposed and executed yet.”

  Annoyance surged through me at her dry, mocking tone. “Perhaps I’m better at being a spy than you give me credit for.”

  “Gemma Ripley? Also known as Glitzma? The most pampered of all the pampered princesses? Are you kidding me?” Reiko let out a merry little laugh, and her inner dragon joined in with its own silent chuckles.

  I ignored their mirth and studied her even more carefully. The name Reiko tickled the back of my brain, and I mentally flipped through the pages and pages of family trees that my tutors had forced me to memorize as a child. “You’re Reiko Yamato, cousin to Ruri Yamato, the Ryusaman queen.”

  Reiko and her inner dragon quit laughing, and surprise flickered across both their faces. “How do you know that?”

  “I make a point of knowing all the royals and their families, down to the very last, most distant cousin.”

  I also reviewed the information twice a year and memorized the names of the children who had been born and the royals who had died. During my ambassador travels, I often ran into distant royal cousins, many of whom were eager to share tidbits about their more important relatives twice removed.

  “Why is Ryusama suddenly so interested in Andvarian tearstone?”

  Reiko took a sip of her punch, then peered at me over the rim of her goblet. “I’ll answer your question if you answer mine.”

  “Which is?”

  “Why would a Ripley princess save a Morricone prince from certain death?”

  More surprise shot through me. Reiko must have followed Conley out of the mine and been lurking around the clearing that day. She must have seen me help Leonidas, but instead of interfering, she had watched and waited and let things play out. Then, after Leonidas had flown me away from Blauberg, she had come to Myrkvior, most likely to watch and wait some more. Why would she go to all that trouble? Unless . . .

  “Your queen is worried about the tearstone. Ruri Yamato thinks the Mortans are going to use it against her, against Ryusama.”

  Reiko blinked in surprise again, as did her inner dragon. Apparently, neither of them thought very highly of me, and it seemed as though I was just Glitzma to them, the same way I was to so many other folks. People underestimated me at their own peril. Just because I was pampered didn’t mean that I was stupid. Far from it.

  I followed my thought to its logical conclusion. “The only reason Queen Ruri would be worried about Andvarian tearstone was if she—or you, her spy—had heard rumblings that Milo Morricone was stockpiling it.”

  My eyes narrowed. “What do you know about Milo?”

  Reiko took another sip of her punch. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  I snorted. We both knew she was lying. Then again, I could hardly point fingers, given all the lies I was currently juggling like a magier tossing balls of fire into the air before a gladiator bout. Still, perhaps Reiko being here was a good thing. If something terrible did happen to me, perhaps she would at least be kind enough to report it to my family. Andvari and Ryusama had never been particularly close allies, given Ryusama’s distance across the Blue Glass Sea, but the two ki
ngdoms had become much friendlier in recent years, trading resources and even visiting each other’s courts on occasion.

  Like it or not, Reiko Yamato was the closest thing I had to an ally in Myrkvior.

  “Instead of trading insults, we could do the smart thing and agree to work together,” I suggested.

  Reiko let out another merry laugh that sounded like bells pealing. Or talons scraping across stone. I couldn’t quite decide which.

  “Why would I want to work with you? I already made my way inside the palace, and I didn’t have to get hoodwinked by a common thief, severely injured, and kidnapped by a prince to do it.” Her chin lifted with pride. “I am an excellent spy, the best in all of Ryusama. Why, I’m just as good as Lady Xenia Rubin. Maybe even better.”

  Well, Reiko certainly was confident, although comparing herself to Xenia was a bit much. If Xenia were here, the ogre morph would have whacked the younger woman with her cane for her impertinence. Still, Reiko’s boast gave me an idea.

  “Yes, do tell, who are you masquerading as? I would hate to blow your cover by calling you by the wrong name.”

  Reiko crossed her arms over her chest, and her inner dragon glared at me. They didn’t like my pointing out that they were just as dependent on my keeping Reiko’s identity a secret as I was on her protecting mine.

  She sighed. “Reiko Morita, a Ryusaman metalstone master who is offering her jewelry designs to wealthy nobles so they can bedeck themselves in stunning style for the queen’s birthday ball tomorrow night.”

  “You obviously don’t have any metalstone magic. Do you even know how to make jewelry?”

  She lifted her chin again. “I know enough.”

  No, in other words, although she would probably never admit that.

  “Well, if you need any help . . .”

  “I won’t.” Reiko eyed me. “What name are you using?”

  “Lady Armina, a Mortan noble from Ravensrock who was waylaid by bandits and rescued by Prince Leonidas.”