Capture the Crown

by Estep, Jennifer

  Reiko nodded. We stepped off the faint trail we’d been following, then crept forward, quickly and quietly climbing to the top of the ridge.

  This ridge made a wide, sweeping curve to the left before sloping down into another, much larger clearing. At the base of the ridge, a square opening had been carved into the rocks and shored up with wooden beams. No light spilled out of the black hole, but it was clearly man-made.

  I pointed out the opening. “That must be the old tearstone mine.”

  Reiko stabbed her finger at the ground. “And judging by how thoroughly the grass has been trampled, several people have been here recently.”

  She had barely finished speaking when two men stepped out of the mine entrance. We fell silent, watching them.

  The men strode through the clearing and stopped next to a couple of flat, waist-high boulders that looked like table leaves that had been pushed together. The men were both wearing black tunics, leggings, and boots. No crests or symbols adorned their clothes, but their purple cloaks, along with the swords on their belts, marked them as Mortan soldiers.

  My heart quickened with equal parts worry and excitement. The rumors were true. The Mortans were here.

  Each man slung a black leather satchel down onto the flat boulders and rifled through the contents, causing several soft but distinctive tink-tink-tinks to ring out. I might be a pampered princess, but mining was one of Andvari’s main industries, and I knew the sound of rocks—ore—rattling together when I heard it.

  “You’re sure this is all of it?” one of the men asked, his voice floating up the ridge to Reiko and me.

  The second man nodded. “Yep. We got every last piece. Let’s go.”

  The first man hoisted his satchel onto his shoulder and headed toward the far side of the clearing. The second man hurried to do the same, but he didn’t close his bag all the way, and something slid out of the top and dropped to the ground. Another distinctive tink rang out, but the second man rushed after his friend without a backward glance. My eyes narrowed, but I couldn’t see whatever he had dropped.

  The men left the clearing and disappeared into the trees beyond.

  Reiko and I held our positions on the ridge. She scanned the woods, while I reached out with my magic. Other than the two men, I didn’t sense anyone else in the immediate area. I nodded at Reiko, and we followed the curve of the ridge down to the clearing.

  I stepped inside the mine opening, scanning the dust-covered ground, as well as the walls, just in case the Mortans had strung up some trip wires. But the area was clean, so I went in a little deeper. All I could see were a few feet of rough-hewn rock walls before the mine’s yawning darkness swallowed up the sunlight, but the smell of freshly dug earth filled the air, indicating that someone had been working in here recently.

  My gaze landed on a small pile of rubble close to the entrance. I crouched down to get a better look, but it was just a mound of rocks, many with jagged, blackened edges, like they were shards of burnt, shattered glass rather than solid stone. Odd. Maybe Milo had used his lightning magic to blast tearstone out of the mine, although I didn’t see any scorch marks on the walls. Either way, something about the burnt stones made me shiver. I slid one into my pocket to study later, then got to my feet.

  The last time I’d been in a mine was a few weeks ago in Blauberg, when Conley, the corrupt foreman, had shoved me into a chasm to hide the fact that he was stealing and selling tearstone to the Mortans. I stared into the darkness in the back of the mine, but instead of seeing total, absolute blackness, memories flooded my mind.

  The cool air rushing over my face as I fell. My body slamming into a stone ledge jutting out from the side of the chasm. The bones shattering in my left arm and leg. White-hot agony exploding in my wounds. The chill of death slowly creeping over me. And then a shadow looming over me, slowly morphing into a man with dark amethyst eyes—

  “Gemma,” Reiko called out. “Come look at this.”

  Her voice jolted me out of my memories, although it didn’t stop all that remembered pain from pounding through my body, hammering right alongside my racing heart. Perhaps it was all the trauma I’d endured in Myrkvior, but ever since I had returned home, my magic had been flaring up in new, unexpected ways, including all these unwanted glimpses of the recent past that kept intruding on my present.

  I wiped the cold sweat off my forehead with a shaking hand. Then I schooled my face into a calm mask and strode back out into the clearing.

  Reiko was crouched down by the two flat rocks the Mortans had used as a table earlier. She plucked something out of the grass, then straightened and held it out to me.

  The jagged shard was about the size of a small dagger. I rolled it back and forth in my fingers, watching as the rock, the ore, shifted from light gray to dark blue and back again.

  “It’s definitely tearstone. The mine must not have been as played out as Lord Eichen claimed during the luncheon.”

  “Either that, or Eichen is working with the Mortans,” Reiko suggested.

  Surprise shot through me, and I opened my mouth to automatically defend my countryman, but Reiko stared me down.

  “First rule of being a spy—anyone can betray you at any time. Even someone you think is a staunch ally.”

  She was talking about Eichen, but another man’s face filled my mind—the same handsome face with the same dark amethyst eyes I’d seen in my vision. In some ways, Leonidas Morricone haunted me far more than any injuries I’d received in the Blauberg mine.

  I shoved those memories away and considered Reiko’s point. “Eichen could be working with the Mortans, but it’s highly unlikely. He has plenty of power and money, and he’s never shown any interest in trying to wrest the throne away from my grandfather. Plus, one of Eichen’s sisters was killed by Mortan bandits a few years ago. He has no love for them.”

  Reiko nodded, accepting my conclusion.

  I rolled the tearstone shard back and forth in my fingers again. “We should follow the Mortans. They might have a camp set up in the woods. Maybe that’s where Milo is storing the stolen tearstone and the weapons he’s made with it.”

  Reiko’s eyebrows shot up. “It could still be a trap. Us just happening to see two Mortans outside an old mine and one of them just happening to drop a piece of tearstone is highly suspicious.”

  “I know, but it’s—”

  “Worth the risk,” she finished.

  I gave her a sour look. Reiko grinned back at me, as did her inner dragon, then jerked her head. “Let’s go, princess.”

  Reiko headed toward the far side of the clearing. I nestled the tearstone shard in the side of my boot so that I wouldn’t lose it, then pictured Grimley in my mind.

  We’ve found the Mortans. We might need you and Fern.

  Grimley answered me almost immediately. We’re done hunting. We’ll be there soon.

  Quietly, please. We don’t want to spook the Mortans.

  You might like sneaking around, but I prefer a more direct approach.

  Really? Is that what you told the Glitnir glass masters last week when you, Fern, and the other gargoyles were flying around doing barrel rolls and you accidentally smashed through the windows in Alvis’s workshop?

  Glass shouldn’t be so bloody fragile, he grumbled.

  I grinned, released my magic, and headed after Reiko to keep tracking our enemies.

  * * *

  Reiko and I crept through the woods. We didn’t speak, but Reiko clutched her sword a little more tightly, and her worry throbbed like a splinter embedded deep in my heart. I adjusted my grip on my dagger and tried to ignore her worry, along with my own.

  Another faint trail ran through this section of the woods, although the dirt was so hard-packed that I couldn’t see any boot prints or tell how many people might have passed this way. Reiko and I stayed within sight of the trail, creeping from one tree to the next.

  We walked for the better part of a mile before the trail led into another clearing that was ev
en larger than the one in front of the old mine. Wide, flat rocks jutted out from the surrounding steep ridges like stone bleachers, making the whole area look like a rough, unfinished gladiator arena.

  I didn’t see the two Mortans, although the trail led through the center of the grassy clearing before winding its way past the rocks and up the opposite ridge. The surrounding ridges were too steep to climb without a rope, so the Mortans still had to be following the trail.

  “How close are we to the Mortan border?” Reiko asked.

  I pointed to the opposite ridge, where a four-foot-tall gray stone obelisk had been driven into the ground beside the trail. I couldn’t see it from this distance, but I knew that the Ripley snarling gargoyle crest was carved into the arrow that topped the obelisk. “See that stone?”

  Reiko squinted in that direction. “Is that a trail marker?”

  “Yes. It’s also a warning that we are exactly one mile from Morta. The obelisks along the actual Mortan border are painted solid purple and have the Morricone royal crest carved into them, so that people know when they cross from one kingdom into the other.”

  “We’re too close,” Reiko muttered. “Especially if this is a trap.”

  Given my recent disastrous trip to Myrkvior, I would have been quite happy to never set foot in Morta ever again. But finding where Milo Morricone was storing the stolen tearstone might help us stop his plot before more lives were lost.

  “What is your magic telling you?” Reiko asked. “Picking up any thoughts?”

  I concentrated, scanning the clearing and the ridges again, but I didn’t hear so much as a whisper of thought, and I didn’t sense anticipation or any other strong emotions. “No one’s hiding in the grass to stab us in the back. As for what’s on the other side of that ridge, well, I can’t tell without getting closer.”

  Reiko twirled her sword around in her hand. “Then let’s get closer.” She grinned. “After all, it’s worth the risk.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Are you going to mention that every time I want to do something dangerous?”

  Her grin widened. “Absolutely.”

  I huffed with annoyance, but we left the woods and stepped into the clearing. We moved through the knee-high wild grass as quickly and quietly as possible, but the longer we walked, the more unease filled me. I still didn’t sense anyone nearby, but the clearing and surrounding woods seemed unnaturally still and quiet. No birds twittered in the trees, no squirrels rustled through the underbrush, even the breeze had stopped blowing. The utter lack of noise and motion was unnerving.

  A shadow flitted by overhead, momentarily blotting out the afternoon sun. I glanced up, thinking it was Grimley or Fern, but the shadow’s shape was sleeker and more streamlined than those of the blocky gargoyles. The shadow vanished over a ridge before I could get a good look at it, but a presence flickered through my mind, as soft and light as a feather tickling my skin. I frowned. That felt like—

  A faint creak of leather sounded, and a man stepped into view beside the trail marker at the top of the ridge. I froze, as did Reiko, who let out a soft, muttered curse. The two of us were completely exposed in the clearing, and there was no way he didn’t see us.

  The man was a few inches over six feet, with short black hair, hazel eyes, and bronze skin. His body was thick, strong, and muscled, and he clutched a sword with the easy familiarity of a seasoned soldier. Even though it was only midafternoon, heavy stubble had already darkened his square jaw. Most people probably would have thought the man handsome. I might have too, if I hadn’t known how cruel, petty, vindictive, and vicious he was.

  Just like the two Mortans we had seen earlier, this man was also wearing a purple cloak over a black tunic, leggings, and boots. A fancy cursive M surrounded by a ring of strix feathers—the Morricone royal crest—was stitched in gold thread over this man’s heart, marking his importance and position.

  Wexel, the captain of the Mortan royal guards, who was loyal to Milo Morricone.

  Wexel sneered at me, then lifted his sword and brought it down in a sharp motion. Several more creaks sounded, along with the steady scuff-scuff of footsteps, and more than a dozen men appeared, lining the top of the ridge, all of them clutching crossbows.

  My heart sank, and I cursed my own foolishness. Reiko had been right.

  It was a trap.

  Also by Jennifer Estep

  The Gargoyle Queen Series

  Capture the Crown

  The Crown of Shards Series

  Kill the Queen

  Protect the Prince

  Crush the King

  The Elemental Assassin Series

  Books

  Spider’s Bite

  Web of Lies

  Venom

  Tangled Threads

  Spider’s Revenge

  By a Thread

  Widow’s Web

  Deadly Sting

  Heart of Venom

  The Spider

  Poison Promise

  Black Widow

  Spider’s Trap

  Bitter Bite

  Unraveled

  Snared

  Venom in the Veins

  Sharpest Sting

  Last Strand

  E-novellas

  Haints and Hobwebs

  Thread of Death

  Parlor Tricks (from the Carniepunk anthology)

  Kiss of Venom

  Unwanted

  Nice Guys Bite

  Winter’s Web

  Copyright

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  capture the crown. Copyright © 2021 by Jennifer Estep. Excerpt from tear down the throne copyright © 2021 by Jennifer Estep. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

  Harper Voyager and design are trademarks of HarperCollins Publishers LLC.

  first edition

  Map designed by Virginia Norey

  Title page art by Angela Boutin

  Cover design by Yeon Kim

  Cover art by Tony Mauro

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  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data has been applied for.

  Digital Edition JULY 2021 ISBN: 978-0-06-302304-8

  Print ISBN: 978-0-06-302303-1

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