Protect the Prince (A Crown of Shards Novel)

by Jennifer Estep

  More than once, I tried to catch Rhea’s eye, but she didn’t look at me. Couldn’t blame her for that. Dominic kept staring at her, but she didn’t so much as glance at him either. Well, at least I wasn’t the only one she was shunning.

  Sullivan’s seat was empty.

  Of course Sullivan’s absence didn’t go unnoticed, but the big news was still my engagement to Dominic, and everyone watched us, wondering how we would react now that the deal had been struck.

  For his part, Dominic was kind, witty, and gracious, asking me about Bellona, my childhood, and more. He played the part of the doting fiancé to perfection, and I couldn’t have asked him to be more attentive. No wonder they called him Prince Charming.

  I smiled, talked, and laughed, playing my role to the hilt as well. I even batted my eyes, reached across the table, and squeezed his hand on occasion, as though I was already besotted with him—or at least with the thought of marrying him and shoring up my own throne.

  Oh, yes. I gave everyone in the dining hall a grand performance, perhaps the best of my life. No doubt the traitor had already heard about the engagement, but I wanted the news of exactly how bloody ecstatic I was to spread through every nook, cranny, and corner of the palace. The more gossip I caused and the more people I convinced, the more likely it was that the traitor would make another move, either against Heinrich, Dominic, or me.

  After dinner, Dominic and I took a leisurely stroll through the palace to further sell the illusion of how deeply committed we suddenly were to each other. He led me from room to room, showing me swords, jewelry, and other treasures, as well as introducing me to the richer and more important nobles. The Andvarians might still be angry because of the Seven Spire massacre, but they were all exceedingly eager to use my marriage to their prince to further their own fortunes in Bellona.

  By the time Dominic left me outside my chambers, with a chaste kiss to my hand, my cheeks ached from smiling so long and hard. But my night’s work was just beginning.

  Calandre and her sisters helped me undress and drew me a hot bath. They hovered around for almost an hour before I finally managed to shoo them away, claiming that I was exhausted and going to bed.

  The second they left, I stripped off my night clothes and changed into a tunic, leggings, and boots. My sword and dagger were hooked to my belt like usual, and I also grabbed a blue cloak from the armoire and drew the hood over my head, casting my face in shadow.

  A knock sounded on the door, and Paloma stepped inside. “Are you ready?”

  I nodded. “Let’s go.”

  Paloma was wearing a forest-green cloak, and she too had pulled up her hood to hide her braided blond hair and face. She had sent the guards away on some nonsense errand, so no one saw us leave my chambers.

  We slipped through the hallways much like Sullivan and I had done last night, and our destination was the same—the dungeon.

  To my surprise, no guards were posted outside the dungeon entrance, but I supposed there was no reason for them to be here, since they no longer had a prisoner to guard. We headed inside and went to the weather magier’s cell.

  Sullivan had locked the cell door with his lighting, but I wrapped my hands around the bars and killed his power with my immunity. A few seconds later, the last blue sparks of his magic fizzled out, and the door creaked open.

  “I still don’t see why you wanted to come here,” Paloma grumbled. “What are you hoping to find?”

  “I don’t know. Some sort of clue. Something that will at least tell me whether the weather magier poisoned herself or if someone did it to her instead.”

  “What difference does it make?” Paloma asked. “You already think someone poisoned the magier. It’s the basis of your whole traitor theory. Besides, she’s dead, so it’s not like she can tell us who she was working with.”

  “I know, but I wanted to see her cell again.”

  Paloma shrugged, still not seeing my point, but she kept watch while I stepped into the cell.

  The area looked the same as it had last night. A cot pushed up against the back wall with a wooden bucket for a chamber pot in the corner. The bucket was thankfully empty, and the blankets, sheets, and mattress had been removed from the cot, leaving only the metal frame. The magier’s body had been removed as well, although the coppery tang of her blood lingered in the air, along with the faint hint of the poison that had killed her.

  Now that might be a clue.

  I crouched down in the spot where the magier had died, since that’s where the stench of the poison was the strongest. I drew in several deep breaths, drawing in the air over my tongue and tasting all the scents in it. I also spread my fingers out wide on the flagstone where the poisoned water had dribbled out of the glass, then reached out with my immunity.

  The aroma was faint, as were the traces of magic, but I still recognized them as the same soft, lavender scent and parasitic, venomous vines of power that I had sensed in Heinrich.

  I drew in several more breaths and reached out with even more of my magic, but the aroma and the sensation stayed the same, confirming my suspicions. So I let go of my magic and sat back on my heels.

  “Did you find something?” Paloma asked.

  I nodded. “The magier definitely didn’t poison herself.”

  “How do you know?”

  I got to my feet and dusted off my hands. “Because whoever killed her also used the same poison on the king.”

  Paloma frowned. “That doesn’t prove anything. The magier still could have killed herself.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t think so. This poison isn’t like wormroot. It’s not designed to kill you right away using only a few drops. It smells too soft and subtle for that.”

  “So?”

  “So the weather magier would have had to take a massive dose to kill herself, more poison than could be packed into a hollow button or tooth or some other small hiding space.”

  I spotted an empty pitcher and a glass on the table in the corner outside the cell. Everyone already knew that the magier had drunk the poison, but I still went over, picked up the objects, and smelled them. The pitcher was clean, but the glass still reeked of poison, and the floral scent was much stronger on it than on anything else.

  My nose crinkled. “But a glass of water filled with poison would have been more than enough to kill her.”

  “But you still can’t prove that the magier didn’t poison herself,” Paloma pointed out.

  I set the glass on the table. “I know, but this magier wasn’t some scared young girl like Libby was. This magier was older, stronger, tougher, more experienced. Even when she was defeated in the library, she kept spewing threats at Sullivan and me. The magier wouldn’t just give up and poison herself. At least, not without trying to escape first. No, I think our mysterious traitor poisoned the magier’s water, and the magier drank it without even realizing what it was.”

  I glanced around again, but there was nothing else of interest. I knew the how and why of the magier’s death. Now I just needed to know who.

  “Who was in the dungeon last night? Who was here when the magier was brought in?”

  Paloma’s face scrunched up, as did the one of the ogre on her neck. “Heinrich, Sullivan, Serilda, Cho, Xenia, Rhea, Alvis, Helene, Dahlia, me. Pretty much everyone who was at dinner, along with several guards. Everyone was shouting, yelling, and running around.”

  “So there’s no way to tell who poisoned the magier. Anyone could have slipped it into her water glass during the confusion.”

  Paloma shook her head. “I don’t think so. Sorry, Evie.”

  I hadn’t thought that examining the magier’s cell would give me a lot of information, but it had told me a few important things. Namely, that the traitor had access to both the king and the dungeon. That was still dozens of people, but out of all the names Paloma had mentioned, only one person had the obvious magic and skills to subtly poison Heinrich while giving the magier one large, lethal dose.

  “We’
re done here,” I said. “Let’s go.”

  “Where to?” Paloma asked.

  I grimaced. “Just about the last place that I want to go.”

  * * *

  Twenty minutes later, I wrapped my hand around a doorknob, once again using my immunity to snuff out all the magic on the lock.

  Paloma shifted on her feet and glanced up and down the hallway. “Visiting the dungeon was one thing, but are you sure about this? Because if we get caught here . . .”

  “Then bad things will happen to us. Believe me, I know.” I gripped the knob a little tighter and sent even more of my immunity blasting into the lock. “I’m going as fast as I can—”

  The last of the magic fizzled out in a shower of bright green sparks, but this person was cautious and had smartly locked the actual door itself instead of relying only on their power. So I reached up, plucked a pin out of my hair, and slid it into the lock. It took me only a few seconds to jimmy it open.

  “Where did you learn how to do that?” Paloma asked.

  I slid the pin back into my hair. “When I was a kid, I spent hours exploring Seven Spire. The most interesting books and swords and treasures were always behind locked doors or stuffed away in display cases. It was always easier and quicker to open them myself, rather than asking someone for a key. Now come on.”

  We slipped through to the other side, and I shut and locked the door behind us.

  It was almost midnight, and most of the lights in the hallways had been turned down low for the night. But not in here. Fluorestones blazed in the ceiling, and the area was as brightly lit as Alvis’s jewelry workshop. Not only did the fluorestones provide illumination, but many of them let off heat as well, all the better to nurture the area’s silent inhabitants.

  Plants.

  Paloma and I stood in an enormous greenhouse. Flowers, trees, and vines of all shapes and sizes were nestled in brightly colored clay pots on tables that marched down the center of the room. More tables covered with glass tubes, beakers, and jars were pushed up against one wall, while still more tables boasted gloves, shears, and other gardening equipment. A writing desk bristling with pens, papers, and books took up one corner.

  The ceiling was made of glass, as was the far wall, and I spotted a small beehive on the balcony outside. And just like all the other rooms at Glitnir, gold, silver, and bronze embellished many of the furnishings, along with gleaming gemstones.

  Paloma let out a low, appreciative whistle. “I knew Helene Blume was rich, but I didn’t know she was this rich. Are you sure that she’s the traitor?”

  That was my growing suspicion. After all, Helene was one of the wealthiest and most influential nobles, so she could get an audience with Heinrich any time she wanted. Plus, she was friends with Dahlia, which gave her even more access to the king, and she had also been in the dungeon when the weather magier had been brought in. And most important of all, Helene was a powerful plant magier. Poisoning the king and the magier would be child’s play for someone with her skills, smarts, and magic.

  “That’s what we’re here to find out,” I said.

  I moved over to one of the tables covered with glass tubes and beakers, which were filled with creams, lotions, and liquids. Everything was neatly labeled and stacked in wooden racks and on small shelves.

  Paloma followed me. “What is all this stuff?”

  “Helene and her family are known for their beauty products. The Blumes make their money selling beauty creams, glamours, and more, both here in Andvari and abroad.”

  Paloma picked up an open jar filled with a thick pale yellow cream and sniffed it. “Well, at least it smells good.”

  She handed the jar to me, and I also sniffed it. The familiar scent of honey mixed with lemons tickled my nose. I read the jar label—Honey Burn Cream.

  This was the same scent and cream that I had sensed on my arm after the weather magier had burned me. Guilt flooded my stomach, but I pushed it away. Just because Helene had helped heal me then didn’t mean that she still wasn’t the traitor. I set down the jar and moved on.

  Stacks of small, square papers were lined up on the table, and I flipped through them. Honey, lemons, water. They were recipe cards for Helene’s creams, lotions, and more. But the ingredients were all ordinary things, so I set the cards back down where I had found them.

  There was nothing unusual on the rest of the tables along the wall, so I went over to the plants that took up the center of the greenhouse.

  Many of them were common flowers—roses, lilies, mums, and the like—along with more exotic blooms, like ice violets and snow pansies. Paloma dawdled along behind me, staring at first one flower, then another.

  I moved into the next section, which featured dill weed, mint, and a few other herbs I recognized from cooking with Isobel in the Seven Spire kitchen. The thought of the cook master brought a smile to my face, but I wasn’t here to reminisce, so I hurried on to the third and final section in the back.

  This was where things finally got interesting. These plants, flowers, trees, and vines were all strange shapes, with unusual blooms in odd patterns, sizes, and colors. I didn’t recognize any of them. If anything in here was poisonous, then I was betting it was one of these plants.

  All the pots were neatly labeled, but the names told me nothing, so I did the only thing I could—I bent down and buried my nose in first one plant, then another, sniffing all the blossoms to see what aromas, if any, they had.

  “What are you doing?” Paloma asked.

  “Searching for clues.”

  She rolled her eyes, as did the ogre on her neck, and went back over to the tables of creams and lotions. Paloma picked up a vial of peony perfume and dabbed a drop onto her wrist.

  I kept sniffing plants, both hoping and dreading that I would find something that was similar to the soft, floral poison I’d sensed in the dungeon—

  There—right there.

  I stopped and stared down at a small gray cactus about the size of my hand. The cactus had two spiky arms adorned with a few tiny flowers that looked like puffy, purple snowballs. It was quite lovely and didn’t look the least bit harmful, but thanks to Vasilia, I knew how deceiving looks could be, and how the prettiest exterior could hide the coldest, blackest heart.

  So I drew in another breath, really tasting the air, and I got another whiff of the flowers’ soft, lavender aroma—the same lavender aroma as the poison that had killed the weather magier. My eyes narrowed, and I carefully touched my fingertip to one of the purple blossoms. To my surprise, the petals were as sharp as needles, and I could feel the magic flowing through them—the same venomous power as the poison that had been in Heinrich’s body.

  This was definitely the right plant, and it was quite deadly, despite its small, innocent appearance. I shivered and dropped my hand from the blossom, then read the label on the pot.

  Amethyst Eye Cactus. Native to the permafrost plains of Morta.

  I snorted. Of course it was from Morta. As soon as I read the words, I realized that the center of the purple blossoms did look like an eye, one that was glaring at me. I shivered again, straightened up, and stepped away from the cactus.

  Paloma came over to me. “Did you find something?”

  “Unfortunately.” I pointed out the cactus. “Have you ever seen or heard of this?”

  She too bent down and read the label. “Some weird little cactus from the ass end of Morta? Of course I’ve never heard of it. Is this what was used to poison Heinrich and the weather magier?”

  My nose twitched. “Definitely. Although I’m not quite sure how. The cactus itself doesn’t seem to be poisonous, only the flowers. I wonder how Helene used the flowers, if she crushed the petals or did something else to them. We know that she put the poison in the weather magier’s water glass, but how did she administer it to Heinrich?”

  “Does it really matter how?” Paloma asked.

  “No, I suppose not.”

  I took another step back from the cactus, not wanting t
o be near it a second longer than necessary. A ray of light slipped past my body and hit the cactus, along with its purple pot. The container’s rich, jewel-toned shade caught my eye, and I took a closer look at it.

  It was an ordinary clay pot, and the only thing remarkable about it was its vibrant amethyst color. I had seen similar pots lining the balcony railing outside my chambers, as well as Dahlia’s chambers. Dahlia had told me that Helene was always gifting her with flowers. But I had also seen this same kind of pot somewhere else—in Maeven’s chambers the night that I’d spoken to her through the Cardea mirror at Seven Spire.

  “What is it?” Paloma asked. “What’s wrong?”

  I started to tell her about the pots when a glimmer of silver caught my eye, much shinier and brighter than the metal that adorned the walls. Instead of answering her, I went over to the writing desk in the corner. Pens, pads, and books covered the surface, so it took me a few seconds to find the source of the silver gleam.

  A signet ring.

  A sick, sick feeling filled my stomach, and I grabbed the ring and held it up to the light. A fancy cursive H was embossed in the silver and circled by tiny emeralds, while curling vines were etched into the band. This signet ring was eerily similar to the one I’d found hidden in Maeven’s jewelry box at Seven Spire.

  “What’s that?” Paloma asked, coming over to me. “And why do you look like it’s a coral viper that’s about to bite you?”

  In a dull voice, I told her about finding the ring in Maeven’s room, as well as seeing the pots in the magier’s chamber when I had spoken to her.

  “Let’s forget for a moment that you spoke to your mortal enemy through a magic mirror and conveniently forgot to tell me about it.” Paloma glared at me, as did the ogre on her neck. “We’ll address that later. But for right now, you should be happy. You finally have proof that Helene is the traitor and that she’s working with the Mortans.”

  But I wasn’t happy. Not really. Because this would break Sullivan’s heart all over again.

  “Why do you look so sad?” Paloma asked. “You got your proof.”