Protect the Prince (Crown of Shards #2)(109)

As much as I hated to admit it, she had a point. And I could see how her hurt had slowly grown and festered over the years. Heinrich wasn’t the only one who’d been poisoned. Whether she realized it or not, Dahlia had also done it to herself.

“And Sully?” I asked. “Do you love him at all? Or is he just another game piece for you to move around and manipulate?”

“Of course I love my son,” Dahlia snapped. “Just as Maeven loves her children.”

More shock blasted through me. Maeven had children? How many? Who were their fathers? Were they legitimate nobles? Or bastards like her?

My gaze zoomed over to the magier, but her face had gone ice-cold. She didn’t like Dahlia revealing that information.

“I have always loved my son, from the moment he was born,” Dahlia continued, not noticing Maeven’s chilly stare. “That’s why I’m doing this—so he can have the future he deserves. So he can finally be king and look down his nose at everyone who’s ever done that to him.”

Once again, she had a point, although I didn’t tell her so.

Maeven laid her hand on Dahlia’s shoulder. “It’s time to put the next part of our plan into action.”

The hot, peppery scent of Dahlia’s anger filled my nose. She was still pissed I’d dared to suggest that she didn’t love her son, but she nodded at Maeven.

“Excellent! Now I finally get to do something that I’ve been wanting to do for quite a while now,” Maeven purred again.

I tensed, expecting her to blast me with her lightning, but Maeven had something else in mind. She reached into her cloak and pulled out a glass vial filled with a dark purple liquid. Even though the vial was tightly stoppered, I could smell the soft, lavender scent of the liquid inside. More amethyst-eye poison—a large, single, fatal dose.

“Going to kill me like you did the weather magier in the dungeon?” I asked.

“I couldn’t free Lola from the dungeon, and Rhea was going to question her,” Dahlia said. “I couldn’t risk Lola slipping up and revealing my true identity.”

“So you slipped poison into her water, and she drank it without realizing what you were doing. You killed Lola, the weather magier, your own cousin.” I let out a bitter laugh. “There’s not much loyalty between members of the Bastard Brigade, is there?”

“It’s not about loyalty—it’s about getting the job done no matter what, no matter who we have to sacrifice.” Maeven lifted her chin with pride. “That’s what true soldiers do.”

Dahlia nodded, as did the other assassins. I gave them all a disgusted look.

“You are not soldiers.” I spat out the word. “Soldiers fight for their kingdom, for their people, for a leader and a cause they believe in.”

“And that perfectly describes me and my many cousins,” Maeven crowed.

The other assassins stood up even taller with pride. They really did believe that their cause was noble and just and that they were serving the greater good. They didn’t see how their king so casually used and sent them to their deaths, just as all the other legitimate heirs had done before him. For a moment, I almost felt sorry for the members of the Bastard Brigade. Almost.

More disgust rolled through me, drowning that sympathy. Still, their blind, foolish pride sparked an idea. I might die here, but I was still going to do as much as possible to further my own long game with Maeven, the one she didn’t even realize we were playing yet. So I slowly stood up and turned to the side, hiding the fact that my hand was still curled around the dagger in my pocket.

“There’s one big difference between soldiers and the lot of you.”

Maeven arched an eyebrow. “And what would that be?”

I looked her in the eyes. “Soldiers get to come home after the battle is won and the war is over. And when they do, they are celebrated for their bravery, for their sacrifices, for protecting their own people despite the terrible cost to themselves. Tell me, Maeven, has your brother ever celebrated you? Or your accomplishments? Has he ever warmly welcomed you home after a job well done?”

For the first time, a bit of hurt sparked in her eyes, and I could tell that the answer to my questions was a resounding no. So I kept going, trying to plant as many seeds of doubt as I could.

“He’s never done any of those things, has he? Your brother, the king, has never once thanked you for serving him. I bet that when you go home to Morta that you barely have time to sleep in your own bed before he sends you on another mission in some far-flung kingdom.”

Agreement flashed across her face before she could hide it.

I gestured at Dahlia. “She’s the perfect example. Taken from her home when she was a child and forced to come here. Forced to slink around and spy. And when she caught the king’s eye, forced to fuck him so that she could rise even higher. Tell me, Maeven. Has your king ever ordered you to fuck someone?”

More agreement flashed across her face, along with a good bit of anger, and her fingers tightened around the vial in her hand as though she wanted to smash the glass into my face. Not to poison and kill me, but just to make me stop talking and revealing all these ugly truths.

“You and your precious Bastard Brigade careen from battle to battle until you make a mistake, and someone kills you,” I said, my voice as cold as ice. “Face it, Maeven. You’re not a soldier. You’re expendable, just like Libby, Lola, and all your other cousins.”