Protect the Prince (A Crown of Shards Novel)

by Jennifer Estep

  One of the magiers plowed into me and knocked the dagger out of my right hand. I tried to keep going and run past him, but he caught me around the waist, holding me in place.

  “Sully!” I screamed again. “Sully, look out!”

  His head snapped up, and he finally realized that Maeven was targeting him. His eyes widened, and he lifted his hand to summon up his own magic to block her attack, but he was too late. Maeven snapped her hand forward, throwing every last bit of her power at him.

  For a moment, I felt like I was underwater, and everything was happening in long, slow waves of motion.

  I churned and churned my legs, dragging the magier along with me. I also stretched my empty hand out in front of me, wishing that I could somehow reach Sullivan in time, wishing that I could do something, anything, to keep Maeven’s lightning from killing him. Wishing that I had the power to throttle her magic without even touching it or her.

  Even as that last desperate thought filled my mind, I felt a wave of . . . of . . . something pulse out of me. It felt like my immunity, like that cold, hard power that was buried deep down inside my body, only this power wasn’t inside me anymore.

  It was outside.

  For the last several months, I had thought of my immunity like a gladiator shield, this invisible, malleable barrier that I could wrap around my own body to protect myself. Sometimes, I also thought of my power as a large, hard fist that I could use to crush other people’s magic.

  But for the first time, I realized that I could actually feel my power in my hand, just like I could feel the actual dagger clutched in my other fingers. Maybe my immunity could be more than just a shield or a fist.

  Maybe it could be a sword—one that I could wield just like I would a gladiator blade.

  That strange, slow sensation of being underwater vanished, and everything snapped back to its normal speed.

  Even though that magier was still holding on to me, I reached for my immunity and let that cold, hard power fill the palm of my hand. And then I flung that power outward as though it were a sword that I was hurtling at Maeven’s damned purple lighting.

  I held my breath, wondering if I had just been imagining the whole thing and had just doomed Sullivan to death.

  But it worked.

  That invisible sword of my power slammed into Maeven’s lightning, shattering it into a shower of sparks an instant before it would have hit Sullivan.

  For a moment, everyone froze. Me, Sullivan, the remaining magiers. Even the man holding me around the waist loosened his grip and staggered away. Everyone looked at me, wondering what had just happened.

  Maeven’s eyes widened with shock. “No!” she whispered. “No, it can’t be!”

  This time, she reared her hand back and threw her lightning at me. I didn’t even really think about what I was doing. I just lifted my hand and swatted her magic aside, as if it were a fly that was annoying me.

  And I realized that I had done the same thing to Libby’s magic when she had tried to kill me in the Seven Spire throne room. Only then, I’d been holding my sword, and I’d thought that the tearstone weapon had deflected most of her power, instead of my own immunity.

  Maeven’s eyes widened again, and she did something completely unexpected—she backed away from me.

  “Kill her!” she screamed. “Kill her now!”

  The magiers whipped back around to me. With a loud, collective roar, they charged forward and threw everything they had at me. Lightning, fire, ice, even their physical swords and daggers in some cases.

  And one by one, I overcame them all.

  All the lightning, the fire, the ice, the swords and daggers. I snuffed out the magic with my own immunity, dodged the weapons, and used my dagger to cut down my enemies.

  I killed one assassin after another, wading through them all to get to Sullivan, who was doing the same thing on the opposite side of the gazebo. We finally met in the middle when there were no more Mortans left to kill.

  “Evie! Are you okay?” Sullivan asked, his voice raspy from screaming.

  Blood, bruises, and burns covered him from head to toe, but he was alive, which was all that mattered.

  “I’m okay. You?” My voice was just as raspy as his was.

  He lifted his hand as if to cup my cheek, or maybe even pull me close and kiss me, but at the last second, he thought better of it and dropped his arm back down to his side. I wanted to reach for him too, but this tense, awkward silence fell over us. Now that the danger had passed, I didn’t know what to do, not given all the ugly things we’d said to each other in this very spot less than an hour ago.

  Sullivan glanced around. “Wait. Where’s Maeven?”

  I looked out over the bodies that littered the gazebo, but hers wasn’t among them. “She’s not here.”

  I held back a vicious curse. Of course she wasn’t here. Maeven was like a coral viper who always managed to slither away after she’d bitten you.

  A low groan sounded. Sullivan and I both turned around, and I realized that there was one person who hadn’t escaped.

  Dahlia.

  She was lying where she had fallen beside one of the benches, still clutching that empty vial.

  “Mother!” Sullivan yelled.

  We both hurried over and dropped to our knees beside her. I could smell the amethyst-eye poison on her breath, sweet lavender that was turning to rot with each passing second.

  “What was she doing out here?” Sullivan asked. “And why did she take that poison?”

  I opened my mouth, but then I thought better of it.

  Dahlia lolled her head to the side and looked up at me with pain-filled eyes. “He’ll figure it out sooner or later. You might as well tell him.”

  “Tell me what?” he asked.

  I quickly told him everything Dahlia had said about sending Frederich and Gemma to die at the Seven Spire massacre, poisoning Heinrich, and trying to kill Dominic.

  The more I talked, the more anguish filled Sullivan’s face. When I finished, he stared at his mother in horror, as if she were some monster he’d never seen before.

  “She did all those things just to try to put me on the throne?” Sullivan asked, his voice a dull, ragged whisper.

  “Yes.” I didn’t want to cause him any more pain, but I couldn’t deny what Dahlia had done.

  I leaned over and placed my hand on top of Sullivan’s. He jerked, but for once he didn’t pull away, and he curled his fingers into mine.

  “She’s not gone yet,” I said in a low voice. “I can still use my immunity. I can still try to save her.”

  “No,” Dahlia rasped. “No. I made my choice. Let me die.”

  Sullivan shook his head, telling me that he would honor her last wish. Then he leaned forward, so that he could stare into her face.

  “Was it all a lie?” he asked in a low, anguished tone. “Did you ever care about me? Did you ever really love me?”

  “Of course I love you,” Dahlia rasped.

  She reached up and tenderly cupped Sullivan’s cheek. He flinched, as though her touch burned, but he didn’t pull away from her.

  “I know you think I’m a horrible person. Maybe I am. But I always loved you,” she said. “Remember that, if you will.”

  Tears filled his eyes, and a muscle ticked in his jaw, but he nodded. “I’ll remember,” he said in a sad, resigned voice.

  “Good boy . . . You always were such a . . . good boy.” She smiled at him a moment, then her face turned serious. “Don’t make the same mistakes that I did . . . Don’t let your anger and duty rule you . . . Otherwise, you’ll end up like me . . . bitter and alone . . .”

  Dahlia drew in another breath, as if she was going to say something else, but her voice escaped in a soft exhale. A bit of black blood bubbled up out of her lips and trickled down her chin, and her hand slipped from Sullivan’s face.

  He caught her hand and slowly lowered it to the ground. Still clutching her fingers in his, he bowed his head, tears sliding down his f
ace for the mother he’d never truly known.

  * * *

  Serilda, Cho, Paloma, and Xenia found us in the gazebo, still huddled around Dahlia’s body. Gemma followed them, along with Grimley, Alvis, Heinrich, Dominic, and Rhea. Halvar and Bjarni also appeared, but they kept to the edge of the gardens.

  Once my friends realized that Sullivan and I were okay, they wanted to know what had happened. Sullivan drew Heinrich, Dominic, Gemma, Alvis, and Rhea aside and told them about Dahlia, while I did the same to Serilda, Cho, Paloma, and Xenia.

  Everyone was stunned by the news, except for Serilda, who stared at Dahlia’s body with a thoughtful look. I wondered if this was one of the possible outcomes she’d seen with her magic, but I didn’t ask.

  I had expected Heinrich to be so furiously angry about Dahlia’s betrayal that he would immediately disown Sullivan and order him thrown out of the palace. But instead of raging and lashing out, the king stared down sadly at Dahlia’s body, as if he couldn’t believe that she had wanted him dead.

  Sullivan cleared his throat. “You’ll want me to leave now and never return,” he said in a soft, resigned tone, voicing my thoughts.

  Everyone looked back and forth between him and the king. Heinrich stared down at Dahlia’s body a moment longer, then focused on Sullivan.

  His face hardened. “You are my son,” he declared in a loud voice. “You will always be my son. I could never love you less. I can only love you more.”

  Then he stalked over, wrapped his arms around his son, and hugged him tight, like he never wanted to let him go. Sullivan reached up and hugged his father back just as tightly, and the two of them stayed like that for a long, long time. Eventually, Sullivan turned and hugged Dominic, as well as Gemma.

  I had some questions of my own, which Gemma answered. She had run into Sullivan on the outskirts of the gardens and had told him that I was under attack. He’d told her to find Dominic and the others, as well as summon the palace gargoyles to the throne room to protect Heinrich. Then Sullivan had rushed to my aid. He had saved me, but he’d lost his mother in the process.

  Guilt twisted in my gut at the hurt I’d caused him yet again, but there was nothing I could do to take away his pain. And I couldn’t help but feel sorry for Dahlia. She had been trapped between two worlds, Morta and Andvari, and she had never truly belonged to either. And now she was dead, and Sullivan had to pick up the pieces of his broken heart over his mother’s secret agenda.

  Rhea summoned the guards. Together, with my friends, they did a thorough sweep of the gardens, along with the rest of the palace, in hopes of finding Maeven, but I knew that she was long gone. Sure enough, Rhea reported back that there was no sign of Maeven anywhere, although the guards had discovered several strixes hidden in a barn on the palace grounds. The Mortans had apparently used the giant, hawklike birds to fly over the walls and avoid the gargoyles, as well as the guards posted at the gates. Maeven must have used one of the creatures to escape the same way.

  Eventually, I wound up sitting by myself on one of the cushioned benches, watching Sullivan stare down at his mother’s body yet again.

  A rough tongue licked my hand, startling me out of my guilty reverie, and Grimley plopped down beside me. He licked my hand again, then leaned forward and sniffed my fingers, just like he’d done on the balcony outside my chambers a few days ago.

  “Magic killer,” he rumbled in his deep, gravelly voice. “Magic master.”

  The gargoyle had said the same thing to me that day on the balcony. I hadn’t understood what he’d meant back then, but I did now. I also knew why Alvis had said that I’d have to discover for myself what it truly meant to be a Winter queen. He was right. I wouldn’t have believed him if he’d told me what he thought I could do with my immunity, but now I did.

  More importantly, I believed in myself—and my magic.

  I scratched Grimley’s head. Well, as much as I could scratch living, breathing stone, but the gargoyle seemed to enjoy it, and his tail thumped with happiness. At least someone was happy tonight.

  My gaze drifted back over to Sullivan. His whole world and everything he thought he’d known had just been shattered. I could understand that, especially since I was feeling that way myself, at least when it came to my magic.

  My heart ached for him, and I longed to go over, wrap my arms around him, and tell him that it was all right, that everything was going to be okay. But I couldn’t do that because it would have been a lie, and I was finished lying to him. My lies had brought him nothing but pain, misery, and heartbreak, and I doubted he would ever forgive me for my deceptions.

  Especially since I didn’t know how I could forgive myself.

  So while our friends ran around, dealing with the blood, bodies, and crises, I sat there and watched him grieve for the mother who had betrayed him, his family, his kingdom, and everything that he believed in.

  I wished that I could take back everything that had happened over the past few days, that I had never come to Glitnir, and especially that I had never destroyed Sullivan’s family.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  That was just the start of a long, long night that bled into a long, long day.

  Besides my friends and I, the only other people who knew the truth about Dahlia being a traitor were Heinrich, Dominic, Gemma, Alvis, and Rhea, and we all agreed to keep it that way. Rhea told the guards that Dahlia had heard the commotion in the gardens and had died defending Sullivan, while Heinrich did the same to the nobles, who were still talking, laughing, eating, drinking, and dancing in the throne room.

  The news of the Mortan attack put an end to the royal ball. The nobles left, and Heinrich ordered the servants and guards to leave as well, saying they could clean things up in the morning. Rhea and my friends were still busy dealing with the bodies in the gardens.

  The last of the servants scurried out of the room, leaving me alone with Heinrich. The king let out a weary sigh and sat down on the dais steps. I walked over and sat down beside him. I had returned Gemma’s dagger, but I was still carrying mine, and I laid the bloody weapon on the stone step beside me.

  A glimmer of silver caught my eye. The decorations were still up, including the two giant banners that featured my crown-of-shards crest and the Ripley gargoyle crest. The symbols in both banners winked at me, almost in sympathy. I grimaced and dropped my gaze from them.

  Heinrich and I sat there in silence for several minutes before he finally spoke.

  “I really did love Dahlia,” he said in a soft voice. “I always loved her. From the very first moment I saw her working in the kitchen when she was a child. And I thought she loved me too. But now, to realize that it was all a lie . . .”

  “She did love you,” I said, trying to comfort him. “And she loved Sullivan too.”

  “Just not as much as she loved Morta,” he rasped. “I don’t know what to make of it. I don’t know how to feel about it.”

  He ran a hand through his hair. At least, he tried to, but his fingers hit the silver crown on his head. Heinrich yanked off the crown and gave it an angry glare, as if it were the source of all his problems. I knew exactly how he felt.

  His fingers curled around the wide band, as though he was considering throwing it across the room. But in the end, he sighed again and laid it down on the step beside him, just as I’d done with my bloody dagger.

  “So where do we go from here, Everleigh?” Heinrich asked in a weary voice.

  “I’m not marrying Dominic. I only agreed to your proposal to try to find the traitor and protect you and your family. I just never dreamed that it was Dahlia.”

  “I knew that you weren’t going to marry Dominic,” Heinrich said. “I knew it from the first time you looked at Sullivan. But I had to prove to the nobles that I was still a strong king, and getting you to marry Dominic seemed like the best way to do that. You came here in friendship and to apologize for something that wasn’t even your fault, and I treated you badly. I’m sorry for that.”

&nbs
p; I nodded, accepting his apology.

  Heinrich turned toward me, his face serious. “You will have your treaty, Everleigh, and it will be exactly the way you want it. Andvari will stand with Bellona against the Mortans. You have my word on it, and you have more than earned it.”

  He held out his hand, and we shook on it.

  “Yes,” I said in a grim voice, “I did earn my treaty. I just wish that it hadn’t cost so many people so much suffering, especially Sullivan.”

  Heinrich gave me a sad, resigned smile, but he didn’t say anything else, and we sat there in silence, drawing what quiet solace we could from each other.

  * * *

  Eventually, I left Heinrich in the throne room and went back to my own chambers. Calandre and her sisters sucked in horrified breaths at the sight of all the blood, rips, and tears in my ball gown.

  I winced. “I’m sorry. So sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin your hard work.”

  Calandre stared at the ruined gown a moment longer, then gave me a bright smile. “It’s nothing, my queen. Just a dress. I can always make you another one.”

  “You’re a terrible liar, but I appreciate the effort.”

  This time, Calandre’s smile was far more genuine. “Let’s get you out of that horrid garment. Things will seem much better after you’ve had a nice, hot bath.”

  To my surprise, she was right. Calandre and her sisters fussed over me for more than an hour before they tucked me into bed. I fell asleep even before they had closed the doors to my chambers. Thankfully, my dreams were free of any nightmarish memories of my past. Or perhaps that was because I had lived through another nightmare tonight.

  Either way, I woke up late the next morning feeling . . . not quite refreshed, but at least strong enough to face a new day of trouble. I had breakfast in my chambers with Paloma, Serilda, Cho, and Xenia, who updated me on what was happening. Captain Rhea was drastically increasing security, but they all agreed that Maeven was gone and that Glitnir was free of the Mortan threat—for now.

  Serilda told me that Sullivan was having breakfast with Heinrich, Dominic, and Gemma. Good. As much as I wanted to make sure that he was okay, I was glad that he was with his family. Hopefully, they could help him come to terms with the truth about Dahlia.