Protect the Prince (Crown of Shards #2)(106)

I don’t know how long I stood there, breathing hard, her blood dripping off my hand, my entire body shaking with rage and grief and fear. But slowly, I realized that the magier was dead, and that I wasn’t, and that I couldn’t just stand here lost in the fog of my feelings.

So I shoved the bloody dagger back into my dress pocket and glanced around, still trying to steady myself. My gaze zoomed over to my mother’s body. My heart squeezed tight, but I turned away from her crumpled form. I didn’t look at my mother again.

I couldn’t.

Instead, I surveyed the rest of the clearing. The horses were long gone, having fled as soon as the magier killed Ansel, but something metallic glimmered in the snow, close to his body, and I shuffled over to it.

Ansel’s pocket watch.

The sight filled me with disgust, since it was another reminder of all the horrors he had brought down upon my family. I started to leave the watch here, but for some reason, I crouched down and scooped it up. The fancy engraved M on the bronze cover gleamed at me like a sly, mocking eye, as if it were happy to be watching my suffering.

My hand fisted around the watch. I was tempted to hurl it as deep into the woods as I could, but I didn’t. The watch was the only thing of value I had, and I might need to trade it for food.

Plus, a small part of me didn’t want to let it go. No, I wanted to keep the watch as a memento—and a promise to myself.

I would never forget this day and what the Mortans had done to my family. I didn’t know how or when, but someday, I would have my revenge on them.

But first, I had to escape. Shouts sounded in the distance, and I didn’t want to be here when the Mortans found their dead magier. So I shoved Ansel’s watch into my pocket next to my bloody dagger, got to my feet, and staggered deeper into the woods . . .





My eyes fluttered open, and I spotted several dark, shadowy trees in the distance. For a moment, I thought I was still in the snowy woods that awful night so long ago, but then I realized that I was in the gazebo in the Edelstein Gardens. Someone had propped me up against one of the cushioned benches.

I blinked a few times, focusing on my surroundings, even though the small effort made fresh pain bloom in my jaw. I touched my chin. My face had already puffed up and bruised from where one of the assassins had hit me. Still, I was lucky I had woken up at all.

“Are you sure the guards are gone?” a familiar voice hissed.

Maeven was crouching in the shadows at the front of the gazebo, peering out into the gardens. The other assassins were also crouched down and hiding in the shadows inside the structure.

“They’re gone,” one of the assassins murmured.

“Why were they out here?” Maeven asked.

The assassin shrugged. “They’re looking for the Ripley brat. Apparently she got bored and snuck out of the ball.”

Maeven and the assassins kept staring out into the gardens. They didn’t realize that I was awake, so I moved my hand onto my lap, patting my side. Where was it? Where was it?

My fingers touched a hard lump tucked away in the folds of my gown, and I sighed with relief. The assassins must not have searched me, because my tearstone dagger was still hidden in my pocket. I didn’t know how much good one small weapon would do me, but at least I had a chance to fight back.

Maeven looked over her shoulder at me. She got to her feet and snapped her fingers at the assassins. They too stood and faced me, and I was once again surrounded.

I sighed, reached out, and slowly pulled myself up into a seated position on the bench cushion, as though I didn’t have the strength to stand. My face throbbed again, the sensation spreading out through my skull, but I pushed away the pain.

Still, it was best to appear as weak as possible, so I let out a soft groan and gingerly touched my bruised chin again. While Maeven and the assassins stared at my face, I dropped my right hand down to my side, discreetly wiggled it into the folds of my dress, and wrapped my fingers around the dagger in my pocket.

Thank you for the pocket, Calandre. I just hoped the weapon would be enough to save me.

When I had a good, firm grip on my dagger, I dropped my other hand from my face, straightened up, and glanced around. I was sitting on one of the cushions in the back of the gazebo, with Maeven standing in front of me and the other magier assassins spaced around me in a loose semicircle. I drew in breath after breath, tasting the air.

The assassins reeked of magic, and their eyes burned a bright, eerie purple. I didn’t know if they all had lightning magic like Maeven, or fire, or ice, or something else, but it didn’t really matter. They were all ready, willing, and eager to blast me with their power the second I did anything they didn’t like. Maeven wasn’t taking any chances on my escaping her trap. Not this time.

“Ah, Everleigh,” Maeven purred. “I’m so happy you’re awake.”

“Why am I awake? Why haven’t you killed me yet?”

“You have a couple of wandering Andvarian guards to thank for your stay of execution. But don’t worry. Your reprieve is going to be extremely short-lived. I just have to set the scene first. My cousin insisted on it.”

For a moment, it was almost like she was speaking a foreign language I didn’t understand. But then her words sank into my mind, along with their horrible implications.

“Cousin? You have a cousin at Glitnir? Another member of your Bastard Brigade?”