Protect the Prince Page 11

  “Neither was I—and look at me now.”

  Calandre’s blue gaze lifted to the crown on my head. “You certainly have . . . prospered in recent months.”

  I arched an eyebrow. “That’s a nice way of saying that I killed my cousin.”

  She grimaced again. “Perhaps you should tell me if there is anything special that you require of me or my sisters while we’re in Andvari.” She gestured at her sketchbook on a table in the corner. “I’ve already started designing a gown for the royal ball the king is holding in your honor. I would be happy to show it to you.”

  “There’s no need. I know you’ll make something lovely.”

  Calandre frowned. “Lovely is not good enough for the queen of Bellona. You need something spectacular, and I’m not sure that I can give it to you.”

  “Lovely is more than good enough for me,” I said in a firm voice. “I’ll leave spectacular to the preening peacocks at court.”

  She smiled a little at that, but her features remained troubled, as if she was worried about my suddenly dismissing her from my service. Her fortunes must have fallen even further than I’d realized when Vasilia had chosen someone else as her thread master.

  I studied the other woman, wondering how much I could trust her. But I had to start trusting other people, even if just a little bit. My friends were already spread too thin trying to help me hang on to the throne, and I needed more allies.

  “Do you remember that royal ball I spoke of during the court session?”

  She nodded. “The one where Tolliver insulted you.”

  “Tolliver didn’t just insult me,” I replied. “He stepped on the hem of my gown and made me trip. Everyone saw me fall, and I ripped my gown and scraped my hands, which only made Tolliver and his friends laugh more. I got to my feet and ran into the closest bathroom. I was going to stay there until the ball was over and I could sneak back to my room, but another girl came inside. And the strangest thing happened—she actually used her magic to fix my dress and help me clean up.”

  Understanding dawned in Calandre’s gaze.

  “I told everyone at court that I remember every insult, every cruel and petty thing they ever did to me.”

  She frowned, not seeing my point. “So?”

  I shrugged. “So I remember the small kindnesses too.”

  Calandre’s brows furrowed together, and she gave me an incredulous look, as if she couldn’t believe that I had chosen her now because of how she had taken pity on me all those years ago. She didn’t speak for several seconds.

  “Thank you for answering my question,” she said. “Let me know if you need anything else, my queen.”

  I waved my hand, dismissing her. Calandre nodded at me again, then retreated back to her corner seat, opened her sketchbook, and returned to her design.

  And so I was alone again—until Sullivan sat down across from me.

  Even though I had seen him in the courtyard earlier, I still drank in the sight of him. The way the sunlight made his dark brown hair gleam like polished mahogany. How his eyes could seem as cold as ice or as hot as stars, depending on his mood. The dark stubble that always made me want to smooth my hand over his jaw. The way his long gray coat perfectly draped over his broad, muscled shoulders. Sometimes, I wondered if I would ever get tired of looking at him. I doubted it.

  Sullivan glanced at me, then stared out the windows, still giving me some space, but I didn’t have time to brood. Not anymore. Besides, this trip was just as important to him as it was to me.

  “How does it feel?” I asked. “To be going home?”

  He shrugged. “No different than all the other times I’ve returned over the years. I would always visit my mother whenever the Black Swan troupe was close to Glanzen. She still lives in the palace.”

  “And your father? Did you always visit him as well?”

  A humorless smile lifted Sullivan’s lips. “Sometimes.”

  All sorts of dark feelings and hidden meanings oozed out of that one word. I waited for him to elaborate, but Sullivan kept his thoughts to himself. Perhaps he didn’t want his relationship with his father to color mine.

  So I tried a different tactic to get him to open up. “And what about Dominic, your older brother?”

  “You mean the beloved crown prince? The one nicknamed Prince Charming?” His smile twisted into a grimace. “Sometimes.”

  Once again, all sorts of feelings and meanings were packed into that one word, and once again, he didn’t elaborate.

  “But I always spend time with Gemma, Dominic’s daughter.” Sullivan’s tight expression eased into one of genuine happiness. “She’s my favorite niece.”

  “She’s your only niece,” I pointed out. “I’m looking forward to seeing her. And Alvis.”

  “And they’re looking forward to seeing you too, highness. You’re all that Gemma talks about every time I speak to her through my Cardea mirror.”

  Sullivan had a mirror in his room at Seven Spire that was similar to the one I’d discovered in Maeven’s chambers, although I hadn’t told him or anyone else about my conversation with her. After she had disappeared, I had tried to get the mirror to work again, but with no success. Maeven must have been the only one capable of sensing and triggering its magic.

  I had wanted to use Sullivan’s mirror to speak to Gemma, and especially Alvis, and make sure that they were okay. But Sullivan had had a difficult time getting his father to host me, and I hadn’t wanted to add to the tension by talking to anyone behind the king’s back. Besides, I would see Gemma and Alvis soon enough.

  But I forced myself to put my feelings aside and think like a queen, which meant picking Sullivan’s brain about King Heinrich.

  “Do you think your father will agree to a new peace treaty?” I asked the question that had been weighing on my mind for weeks.

  I had done everything I could think of to smooth things over with Heinrich, including immediately restoring trade agreements with Andvari and vehemently denouncing the Mortans as the ones responsible for the Seven Spire massacre. I had also sent Heinrich a letter apologizing for Vasilia’s actions and expressing my deepest sympathies and condolences for the loss of his son, his ambassador, and his countrymen.

  I had heard nothing in return.

  Heinrich hadn’t sent me a letter, and he hadn’t made any public comment about the Mortans. His silence worried me.

  If the king didn’t agree to a new treaty, then I would have traveled all this way for nothing, and returning to Seven Spire empty-handed would only further weaken my position with my own people. I had to go back with something, some new treaty or trade agreement that would convince the nobles to work with me instead of against me. If I didn’t, then it was just a matter of time before Fullman, Diante, or someone else challenged me for the throne, or Maeven tried to assassinate me again, or both.

  Not only that, but failing in my first diplomatic mission would reinforce my own belief that I wasn’t worthy of being queen, much less a Winter queen, whatever that really meant.

  The uncertainty on Sullivan’s face filled me with even more concern. “I don’t know, highness. I just don’t know. My father has always been . . . difficult. Then again, I didn’t stay at the palace and marry a nice Andvarian girl like he wanted, so perhaps that’s why our relationship has been strained in recent years. But now that Frederich is dead . . .”

  His voice trailed off, but he didn’t have to finish his thought. We both knew how delicate the situation was between Bellona and Andvari.

  I waited, hoping that Sullivan might offer some more insights into his father, but he turned back to the window, lost in his own thoughts.

  In that moment, I wished that I could have protected him from this. That I could have spared him from returning home and facing all the pain clearly waiting for him there. But I couldn’t protect Sullivan from his emotions or his past any more than I could protect myself from my own.

  So I stared out the window too, watching the miles churn by a
nd wondering what fresh new misery awaited us both in Andvari.

  Chapter Nine

  I expected Maeven to set another trap somewhere along the way, perhaps even try to derail the train, but our journey proceeded without incident. Three days later, our train pulled into the main station in Glanzen.

  Serilda, Cho, Sullivan, and Xenia had already gotten off to secure our route to the palace, but I was still in the queen’s car with Paloma. She opened her mouth, but I stabbed my finger at her.

  “If you ask me if I’m ready for this, I’m going to scream,” I muttered.

  Paloma grinned, as did the ogre on her neck.

  I glared at her a moment longer, but then I rolled my eyes, and a begrudging smile crept across my face. This was the last moment I would have with my friend for hours to come, and I wasn’t going to waste it being annoyed, especially since I didn’t know what would greet me at the palace.

  Outside the train, the Blair royal march began to play. Paloma squeezed my arm, silently wishing me good luck, then slipped out the side door, leaving me alone. The march kept playing, and I used the time to check my reflection in the mirror in the corner.

  Calandre and her sisters had spent most of the morning fussing over me, since I was scheduled to go straight from the train station to the Glitnir throne room to meet with King Heinrich. Calandre had tried to get me to don a gown, but I’d insisted on wearing my regular blue tunic, black leggings, and boots, and I’d strapped my tearstone sword and dagger to my black leather belt like usual.

  The thread master had sighed at my lack of fashion sense, but I’d told her that my outfit was a necessary evil and that I at least wanted to be able to fight if I was attacked. My pragmatism about another assassination attempt finally made her give in, but she’d won a small battle by making me wear a new tunic that featured silver thread on the sleeves, along with a crown-of-shards crest that stretched across my chest. The symbol might as well have been a bull’s-eye, telling assassins where to aim, but I hadn’t wanted to hurt her feelings, so I’d told her that it was lovely.

  Calandre had also tried to get me to don one of the more elaborate crowns she’d packed, but I’d refused in favor of wearing the same thin silver crown with small blue tearstone shards that I’d sported at Seven Spire.

  Glitnir was Heinrich’s court, and I didn’t want to outshine him in any way. Things were already tense and difficult enough between our kingdoms, and I needed his help too badly to offend him, especially by doing something as silly as wearing a crown larger than his.

  Camille, Calandre’s youngest sister, was a paint master, and she’d worked her magic on my face, using silver shadow to make my eyes seem more gray than blue and adding berry balm to my lips. My shoulder-length black hair lay in loose waves, and my only jewelry was the crown-and-thorn bracelet that Alvis had given me the day of the massacre.

  Outside, the royal march finally trailed off, and the last boisterous notes faded away. Then Cho’s booming voice sounded.

  “Presenting Her Royal Majesty, Queen Everleigh Saffira Winter Blair, of Bellona!” His voice rang out like thunder, and the car door slowly slid back.

  I drew in a breath, then let it out and strode outside.

  The platform looked like the one we had departed from in Svalin—a stone slab dotted with iron benches with the main rail station building in the distance. I took a few steps forward and stopped, and that’s when I realized that the people here weren’t rail workers and guilders.

  They were Andvarian royal guards.

  More than three dozen men and women formed a semicircle around the platform. They were all dressed in long-sleeved gray tunics trimmed with black thread, along with black leggings and boots, in keeping with the colors of the Ripley royal family. Normally, during an official visit, the guards would have been wearing ceremonial swords with jeweled hilts and leather scabbards studded with metal scrollwork.

  Not today, not for me.

  Each guard had a regular sword clutched in their hand and a dagger hooked to their belt. They were also wearing breastplates made of dull silver that was probably much stronger than it looked. But perhaps the most telling things were the way that the guards glared at me and the hot, peppery anger that blasted off them in strong, continuous waves.

  I shouldn’t have been surprised. After all, I was the embodiment of Bellona, the place, the people, and especially the family who had murdered their beloved prince and ambassador and had almost killed the king’s granddaughter. I hadn’t expected a warm welcome, but I had been hoping for a bit less hate and hostility.

  My friends weren’t any happier about the situation. Sullivan was deep in discussion with an Andvarian woman, while Serilda, Cho, and Xenia were standing off to the side. Calandre and her sisters were behind my friends, nervously studying everyone around them.

  Paloma was stationed a few feet away with the Bellonan gladiators-turned-guards. Her hand was curled around the mace on her belt, and her amber eyes were narrowed, along with the ones of the ogre on her neck, as if she was silently daring the Andvarians to attack me. Tension hung in the air like a cold, wet blanket, smothering any pretense of warmth or friendliness.

  But there was no turning back, so I plastered a smile on my face and headed toward Sullivan. At my approach, he murmured a few final words to the woman, then moved back. But instead of rejoining our friends, he stood in a little bubble of space all by himself, clearly caught between two worlds. He was definitely not a Bellonan, but he wasn’t quite an Andvarian either.

  I focused on the woman. She was about my age, late twenties, with topaz eyes, beautiful ebony skin, and shoulder-length black curls held back from her face by gray crystal pins. She was wearing a gray tunic, and a sword and a dagger dangled from her belt, the same as the other guards. But the Ripley royal crest—a snarling gargoyle face—was stitched in black thread over her heart, indicating her importance.

  The woman didn’t smile. I hadn’t really expected her to, given the situation, but the raw, naked hate that filled her eyes surprised me, as did the strong scent of ashy heartbreak that wafted off her. This woman utterly despised me. Not a great omen of things to come.

  She pressed her fist to her heart and bowed in the traditional Andvarian style. “Queen Everleigh, welcome to Glanzen. I am Rhea, captain of the royal guards.” She recited the usual platitudes in a cold, flat voice, not meaning a single word.

  “Hello, Captain Rhea. I want to thank you and your guards for your generous hospitality.” I made my voice warm and pleasant, following the standard protocol script.

  Rhea’s jaw clenched, but she dipped her head, acknowledging my politeness. “I will escort you to the palace. King Heinrich is eager to meet you.”

  I just bet he is. I kept my sarcastic thought to myself, though.

  With Rhea leading the way, and the Andvarian guards surrounding us, my entourage and I left the platform, walked through the rail station, and exited on the street. From there, I climbed into an enclosed carriage. Paloma got inside with me, while a couple of Bellonan guards perched on top of the vehicle. And then away we went, rolling through the streets of Glanzen.

  I had been to Glanzen once with my parents, but my memories of that childhood trip were faint and dim, so I peered out the window, trying to see everything at once.

  Glanzen was similar to Svalin with its cobblestone streets, wide plazas, and bubbling fountains, but everything here was older and much more refined, polished, and elegant. The Andvarians’ tall, slender homes and shops made Bellona’s shorter, squatter buildings seem like pale imitations and crude, brittle shells in comparison.

  And it wasn’t just the shapes and sizes that were different. Every single structure featured exquisite, intricate stonework, from the vines that flowed through the curved steps to the flowers that adorned the smooth arches to the fluted columns that supported many of the buildings. It was like the entire city had been crafted with the utmost care by a legion of masters, and some new wonder of stone, metal, wood,
and glass was waiting around every corner.

  Like Bellona, mining was one of Andvari’s main industries, thanks to the Spire Mountains that ran through much of the kingdom. But whereas Bellona was known for its fluorestone, tearstone, and coal, the Andvarian mines were filled with precious metals and jewels. That glitz decorated many of the structures, whether it was gold leaf lining the windows, hammered bronze curling up a column, or garnets, moonstones, and other gems encased in a fountain rim.

  But perhaps the most striking difference between the two kingdoms was what adorned the buildings. In Bellona, metal spires decorated all four corners of any home or business. Even the massive domed arenas like the Black Swan featured spires, as a tribute to the swords, spears, and other weapons used in the current gladiator matches and those throughout Bellonan history. There were no such spires in Glanzen, and something else lurked on the rooftops here.

  Gargoyles.

  The moving, breathing, living stone creatures crouched on many of the roofs, ranging from tiny rocks no larger than owlish caladriuses to hulking, boulder-size brutes bigger than the Floresian horses pulling the carriage. No matter their shape and size, almost all the gargoyles had curved horns on their heads, wings on their backs, and sharp talons on their paws, along with mouthfuls of long, jagged teeth that were perfect for tearing into and then crushing anything—or anyone—unfortunate enough to get in their way.

  I spotted a couple of gargoyles flying back and forth across the street. The creatures were soaring through the air as frequently and casually as the eagles that cruised over the Summanus River outside Seven Spire, looking for fish to pluck out of the water.

  Andvarian legends claimed that the gargoyles served as protectors, not just of the buildings they nested on top of, and the mines they burrowed into, but of the entire kingdom. Of course there were gargoyles in other kingdoms, but they were found naturally only in Andvari, and there was some magic, some quirk of nature that made the gargoyles here much more powerful than those that lived elsewhere.