She nodded, then beamed at me. “And you can too. That makes you really lucky.”
I didn’t know about that, but I kept my hand where it was, since Grimley was still sniffing my fingers.
“Magic killer,” he rumbled again, his nostrils quivering. “Magic master.”
Then he looked up at me, wagged his tail, and licked my hand as though we were old friends. His rough stone tongue scraped across my skin like sandpaper, but not unpleasantly so.
I wondered at his words, though. Magic killer? Magic master? Was he talking about my immunity? Or something else?
I didn’t know, but he seemed to be warming up to me, so I cautiously reached out and scratched the spot in the middle of his forehead, right between his horns.
Gemma beamed at me again. “See? He likes that. I knew the two of you would be friends, just like Grimley and I are.”
She threw her arms around the gargoyle’s neck and hugged him, while Grimley wagged his tail again. It was perhaps the strangest friendship I had ever seen, but I knew how important it was to have a friend you trusted completely, even if that friend was made of stone.
Gemma hugged Grimley’s neck again, then drew back. By this point, we were both sitting on the floor with the gargoyle. Another shadow fell over me, and I looked up and realized that Grimley wasn’t the only gargoyle here. Others were sailing through the air above the gardens, just like they had flown over the glass ceiling inside the palace earlier.
Gemma waved at them, and the creatures grumbled back to her.
“You really are friends with all the gargoyles,” I said.
“Of course,” she replied. “And some of the ones in the city too. But Grimley will always be my favorite. And he’s their leader now, even though he was born in the mountains instead of here at the palace.”
“Just like you’ll be the leader of Andvari someday.”
She shrugged. “I suppose. I just hope I can be as good a queen as you are. I’ve heard all about your adventures from Alvis.”
I held back a derisive snort. Me? A good queen? Hardly. Gemma needed to pick another hero. But I didn’t want to hurt her feelings, so I changed the subject.
“You and Alvis seem to be good friends.”
She nodded. “He and Xenia helped me escape from Seven Spire. The three of us spent weeks together traveling back to Glanzen. I was so happy when Alvis decided to stay at Glitnir and open his jewelry workshop.”
Alvis had a new workshop? A smile lifted my lips. It was good to know that some things would never change.
“I’m trying to get Alvis to make me his apprentice, just like you were, but he hasn’t said yes—yet.” She pouted a moment, but determination gleamed in her eyes. Alvis might not realize it yet, but he was fighting a losing battle with this girl. “And I’m so glad that Xenia came with you. I haven’t seen her in person since she went to her castle in Unger, although I’ve talked to her quite a bit since then.”
“You’ve talked to Xenia? How?”
She shrugged again. “Alvis has a Cardea mirror in his workshop. He talks to Xenia all the time. He also talks to that other woman who came with you, the one with the blond hair and the scar on her face.” Gemma shivered. “She looks like a fierce warrior.”
I thought of all the long hours, days, and weeks that Serilda had spent training me. “You have no idea.”
“I don’t understand why my father was so upset about you coming to Glitnir,” Gemma said. “I told him how you saved me during the massacre, but for some reason, he didn’t want you to come here. Neither did Rhea. I think that’s one of the reasons why she was so nasty to you earlier.”
I kept quiet, letting her talk and analyzing her words. So Prince Dominic hadn’t wanted me to journey to Glitnir. Why not? Other than blaming me for Frederich’s and Hans’s deaths like Rhea and the nobles did. Then again, that was reason enough.
“I was so happy that Uncle Lucas came with you too,” Gemma continued. “He never visits or stays long enough. Not since Helene broke his heart and he snuck off to join that gladiator troupe a couple of years ago. It was quite the scandal, him slipping out of the palace in the middle of the night without telling anyone. Grandpa Heinrich was angry, but Dahlia was downright furious. She’s been trying to get him to come home ever since.”
I remained quiet, still absorbing her words and all their implications. So everyone at Glitnir knew that Helene had broken off her engagement to Sullivan. I could understand why he had left. I wouldn’t have wanted to stick around and be reminded of my lover humiliating me either. And with him being a bastard and her eventually getting engaged to Frederich, one of the legitimate princes . . . The humiliation would have been even harder to bear then, along with everyone’s pity.
“But everything will be okay now that Uncle Lucas is here, and you too.” Gemma gave me a sly, knowing look. “I was up on the tower roof with Grimley just now. I saw you watching him and Helene.”
I grimaced. I’d been here only a few hours, but Gemma already knew how I felt about Sullivan. I wondered who else had noticed. Most likely far more people than I wanted. I would have to be careful about how I interacted with Sullivan, although it was probably already too late. No doubt the nobles were already gossiping about what might be going on between us and whether he was fucking me or not.
“But you shouldn’t worry about Helene,” Gemma added.
“Why not?” I muttered. “She seems smart and accomplished, not to mention wealthy and beautiful.”
More beautiful than any other woman at court, and far more beautiful than me.
All my Blair cousins had been lovely, with vast fortunes and highly skilled paint and thread masters to make the most of their natural good looks. And of course Vasilia and Madelena, the two princesses, had been quite stunning. But Helene Blume was in a league by herself, with the kind of epic, storied beauty that made everyone else seem dull in comparison, as though she were a sparkling, flawless diamond and the rest of us were misshapen lumps of coal clumped around her.
“Oh, Helene is definitely smart and clever and beautiful.”
“But?”
“But she broke his heart,” Gemma said in a wise, serious voice. “Uncle Lucas will never forgive her for choosing her family and her father’s money over him. Besides, I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”
“And how is that?”
She shrugged again. “The way my father used to look at my mother, before she died. And the way he and Rhea look at each other now, when they think no one is watching.”
I wondered what would happen to Dominic and Rhea’s yearning for each other when he was forced to marry someone else.
“My father and Rhea really should know better.” Gemma shook her head. “Someone is always watching at court.”
“Does that bother you? Your father and Rhea?”
“Of course not. My mother is gone, but she would want my father to be happy.” Her nose scrunched up. “Well, as happy as anyone can be at court. But my father won’t get to be happy with Rhea. My grandfather wants him to marry someone else. I heard them arguing about it the other day.” She sighed. “It’s just more stupid protocol that will only end up breaking everyone’s hearts.”
Amusement filled me. “You’re awfully young to know so much about protocol and broken hearts.”
Instead of smiling at my teasing, Gemma turned her head so that she was staring east, and a distant, dreamy look filled her blue eyes. “I met a boy in the mountains when we were escaping from Bellona.”
“And what’s so bad about that?” I asked, still teasing her.
“A Mortan boy,” she whispered, as if she didn’t dare say the words too loudly. “He tried to kill me, and I tried to kill him.”
Oh. My mouth formed the word, but no sound escaped my lips.
“I still dream about him,” Gemma whispered in that same low, rapt voice. “Sometimes, I talk to him in my dreams, and he talks back to me.”
I didn’t know what to say to that eit
her, but I didn’t want to pry, so I just sat there, offering her my silent support. I knew all about how dreams and memories could haunt you.
But the most curious thing was the magic that fluttered around Gemma, as light and fragile as a butterfly’s wing, as though she really was seeing that Mortan boy, wherever he was. The scent was both sharp and subtle at the same time, like the hardest stone mixed with the softest lilac. I’d never smelled magic like that before, but I had an idea of what it was—of what she was.
After a few more seconds of silent contemplation, the magic faded, and Gemma shook her head, as if forcibly banishing the boy from her thoughts.
“So tell me. Who else looks at each other the way that Dominic and Rhea do?” I asked in a light voice, trying to distract her.
She smiled, but her expression had a hard edge to it. “You want to know all the court gossip.”
Despite her seemingly happy demeanor, Gemma was still a royal, still the crown princess, which meant that she was always in the thick of court intrigue. No doubt the Glitnir nobles were just as conniving and cutthroat as the ones at Seven Spire.
I shrugged. “Gossip is information, and information is always useful, especially in my situation. In case you haven’t noticed, you and Grimley are the only people at Glitnir who like me.”
I didn’t mention the jalapeño rage I’d sensed in the throne room, or how I had suddenly, inexplicably tripped during my fight with Rhea, or my sneaking suspicion that someone here wanted me dead. Gemma had been at the Seven Spire massacre, so she knew the perils of being a royal, especially of being queen.
Someone always wanted to kill the queen.
Gemma nodded, then settled herself against Grimley’s side, like he was an oversize pillow. I didn’t see how that could possibly be comfortable, but it didn’t seem to bother her. She patted the spot beside her, and I too settled myself against the gargoyle’s side. It wasn’t as bad as I’d expected, although it still felt like I was leaning up against solid stone, albeit stone that just happened to be surprisingly warm and flexible.
“Now,” Gemma said, grinning. “Let me tell you about life in Glitnir.”
The crown princess was quite the fount of knowledge. She might only be thirteen, but her observations were sharp and insightful, and I learned more from her than I had from Serilda, Cho, and Xenia in all our weeks of preparation.
We spent the afternoon together, sitting on the balcony, sipping lemonade, and feeding Grimley grapes, crackers, and cheeses. He also gobbled down the last of the kiwi cakes.
“What about Dahlia?” I asked. “How does she fit in here? What’s her story?”
“Heinrich and Dahlia grew up together at court. He was the crown prince, and she worked in the kitchen, but they still fell madly in love. But my grandfather was promised to my grandmother Sophina, who came from a wealthy family, and he married her instead of Dahlia,” Gemma said. “But Dahlia still loved my grandfather, so she stayed at the palace as his mistress. My grandmother eventually had my father and Uncle Frederich, while Dahlia had Uncle Lucas.”
“And they were all one big happy family?”
She snorted. “Of course not. Everyone says that my grandmother despised Dahlia and that the feeling was mutual. But my grandmother died when Frederich was young, and Dahlia stepped in and helped raise him and Dominic.”
“But the king never married her,” I murmured.
“Nope. Apparently, he asked her to marry him several times after my grandmother died, but Dahlia always said no. But the two of them seem happy enough, so no one really says anything about her anymore. She’s like a grandmother to me, and even my father treats her like she’s part of our family.”
Curiouser and curiouser. I wondered why Dahlia hadn’t married the king after his first wife had died. After all, that would have greatly improved both her and Lucas’s standing at court.
I opened my mouth to ask Gemma another question when a knock sounded on the main chamber doors.
“My queen? May I come in?” Calandre’s voice drifted inside. “It’s time to get ready for dinner.”
As if I had any choice in the matter since I was the one who’d been locked in here. But I called out to her. “Just a minute!”
I got to my feet, as did Gemma and Grimley. I held out my arms, and Gemma hugged me again. She stepped back, and I leaned forward and patted Grimley’s head. He wagged his tail, and the sudden, strong motion knocked the clay pots off the railing and sent them crashing down to the ground.
Gemma winced. “Don’t worry. I’ll clean those up before the servants find them. And I’ll see you at the dinner.”
She smiled at me again, then climbed up onto Grimley’s back like he was a pony. The gargoyle flapped his stone wings and soared up into the air. Gemma waved at me, and then the two of them dove below the balcony, out of sight.
“My queen?” Calandre knocked again, and the distinctive sound of a key turning in a lock rang out.
I sighed, then left the balcony and headed inside to get ready for dinner.
* * *
Calandre, Camille, and Cerana spent the next hour fussing over me. I once again refused to wear a gown, but the thread master did make me don a fresh tunic. I also insisted on taking my sword and dagger. Calandre didn’t like it, but she could hardly argue given my earlier fight with Rhea.
Instead, she sighed and reached for some more pins on the vanity table. “Well, let’s at least make sure that your crown doesn’t fall off and drop into the soup bowl.”
She jabbed even more pins into my scalp, making me wince, but I couldn’t argue with her either. I’d already attracted enough attention without doing something as stupid as losing my crown during dinner.
Calandre slid a few more pins into my hair, then pronounced me fit for royal company. She and her sisters left the chambers, and I followed them through the open doors.
Paloma was waiting in the hallway, along with several Bellonan and Andvarian guards. All the guards had their hands on their swords and were eyeing each other with barely restrained hostile intent. Apparently, my defeating Captain Rhea had created even more tension between the two groups. Terrific. Just terrific.
Under the tense, watchful gazes of the Andvarians, Paloma and the Bellonan guards escorted me through the hallways. We passed by the open doors that led into the throne room. The lights had been turned down low in there, but I could still make out the royal crest—that snarling gargoyle face—gleaming in the white and gray diamonds embedded in the top of the jet throne. I just hoped that tonight’s dinner went better than my first meeting with the king had.
Eventually, we wound up in front of another set of double doors that were also standing wide open. I drew in a breath, then let it out and strode forward.
The king’s private dining hall was much smaller and simpler than I expected. Tables lined the walls, while a larger, longer table took up the center of the room. A few bits of silver gleamed in the gargoyle faces carved into the columns, and a diamond chandelier shaped like a large crown hung over the main table, but those were the only embellishments.
More than three dozen people were gathered inside, including Serilda, Cho, Xenia, and Sullivan, and it looked as though I was the last to arrive. Of course. I was the only one who’d been locked in her room all afternoon.
Heinrich was sitting at the head of the center table, and he nodded, acknowledging my presence. I did the same. I started to go over to the king, but Xenia stepped up beside me.
“We should make a lap around the room first,” she murmured. “And try to smooth things over with the nobles. I already suggested it to Sullivan, and he agreed to tell his father. You and Heinrich can talk during dinner.”
I sighed, but I dutifully followed her, smiling and exchanging inane chitchat with the Andvarian nobles. They were all polite enough, but lingering anger and mistrust filled their faces, and they all smelled of vinegary tension and sour-milk reluctance. They didn’t like me any more than the guards did.
&nbs
p; Captain Rhea was also here, stationed against the wall behind the king’s chair. Every once in a while, she shot me a nasty look, but she didn’t approach me. That was probably best for both of us. But I wasn’t angry with her. Not anymore. Not since I had realized that Rhea’s father had died during the Seven Spire massacre and that she was in love with the crown prince.
My gaze flicked over to Sullivan, who was talking to Heinrich, Dominic, and Gemma. I could understand and sympathize with a love that could never be.
Eventually, my path led me over to Dahlia, who was sipping champagne and chatting with Helene. They were the last two people I wanted to see right now, but it would have been rude to ignore them, so I plastered a smile on my face.
“Lady Sullivan, Lady Blume.” I tilted my head to them. “How lovely to see you both again.”
“And you as well. And I daresay the circumstances tonight will be far better than they were earlier, eh?” Dahlia smiled, her eyes crinkling with what seemed like genuine warmth. “And please, call me Dahlia. Any friend of Lucas’s is a friend of mine.”
“Thank you. And please call me Everleigh. And thank you for the refreshments that were waiting in my chambers. That was very thoughtful.”
Dahlia toasted me with her champagne glass.
I turned to Helene. “And, Lady Blume, please call me Everleigh as well.”
“Thank you, and please call me Helene. Lady Blume reminds me too much of my mother.” She crinkled her nose, which somehow made her look even lovelier. “It’s an honor to meet you, Everleigh. Gemma has been regaling us with tales of your bravery for weeks.”
“The princess is too kind,” I murmured.
I glanced over at the table. Gemma winked at me, and I winked back at her. She was the only child here, but she seemed more than capable of holding her own. Then again, princesses tended to grow up faster than most. They had to in order to survive all the cruel games people wanted to play with them.
“Tell me, Everleigh, what are your plans during your visit?” Dahlia asked. “I would love to host you for breakfast in the morning.”
I studied her, but her request seemed sincere. Besides, I could hardly say no, since she was the king’s mistress and Sullivan’s mother. “That would be lovely.”
Protect the Prince (A Crown of Shards Novel) Page 17