Protect the Prince (Crown of Shards #2)(110)

Maeven stiffened, as though I’d just slapped her across the face, and the scent of her jalape?o rage exploded in the air, making my nose burn with its sudden, sharp intensity. Her jaw clenched, and her fingers fluttered, as though she was an instant away from blasting me with her lightning. Murderous hate darkened her eyes, making them seem more black than purple, but something else glittered in the depths of her gaze—begrudging agreement.

Oh, yes, I might die here, and Maeven might keep serving her king, but I’d told her what she really was to her brother, what she’d known she truly was all along, and she couldn’t ignore it anymore. I wondered what she would do with that information, and all the rage and hurt that came with it. Too bad I wouldn’t be alive to see it.

“Enough talk,” Dahlia said, a sharp note creeping into her voice. “The ball is almost over, and her friends will start looking for her soon.”

And there went my faint, desperate hope that I could stall the Mortans long enough for someone to realize they were here and sound the alarm.

Maeven snapped her fingers. Two of the other Mortans stepped up beside her, and the three of them slowly approached me. I was still trapped against the bench, but I tightened my hand around the dagger still hidden in my pocket. I had killed a Mortan magier with a dagger before, and I was taking some of these bastards with me before they finished me off.

Maeven stopped about five feet away and held up the vial where I could see it. Sparks of silver shimmered inside the dark purple liquid.

“Amethyst-eye poison, mixed with wormroot and a few others,” Maeven purred. “Just to make doubly sure you die. Not even those pretty tearstone bracelets on your wrists will deflect enough magic to save you from this.”

For a moment, I didn’t understand what she was talking about, but then I realized that she still didn’t know about my own natural immunity. She still didn’t realize that I could destroy magic. I didn’t know if I had enough power to counteract her foul poison, and I couldn’t let her force me to drink it. No, I had to make a stand and attack her now, before the other magiers surged forward and pried my mouth open and Maeven poured that poison down my throat.

I tightened my grip on my hidden dagger, getting ready to yank it out of my pocket, whip it up, and drive it into Maeven’s chest. I drew in a breath to steady myself, when a new scent filled my nose—magic mixed with crushed gravel.

New hope sprang to life in my heart, and I scanned the shadows behind Maeven. In the distance, I spotted a faint burn of blue, like two matches had just flared to life in the darkness. A smile spread across my face.

“Why are you smiling?” Maeven hissed. “I’m about to kill you, you idiot.”

My smile widened, and I pointed my finger to the right. Maeven’s eyes narrowed. She thought it was some kind of trick, but she couldn’t help but look in that direction, as did Dahlia and the other Mortans.

“What are you pointing at?” Maeven muttered. “I don’t see anything—”

With a loud, grumbling roar, a gargoyle erupted out of the hedge maze.

*

Grimley bounded out of the shadows, loped across the grass, and slammed into the Mortans standing at the front of the gazebo, knocking them down.

With another loud, grumbling roar, the gargoyle reared back on his hind legs like a stallion, then slammed his stone paws on top of the assassins, driving them into the gazebo floor and crushing their bones. Then he bounded from side to side, swiping out with his talons and raking them across the assassins.

The Mortans never had a chance, and their pain-filled shrieks and screams soon died down to choked, bloody gurgles as the gargoyle stomped and slashed them to death.

Grimley’s appearance distracted the two assassins in front of me, and I whipped my dagger out of my pocket, surged forward, and sliced the blade across the first man’s throat. He too died with a bloody gurgle.

The second man lifted his hand to blast me with his magic, but I lunged forward and buried my dagger in his chest. I twisted the blade in deeper, then ripped it out.

That man screamed and clutched at his chest, and I shoved him away. He stumbled backward straight into Dahlia, and she shrieked in surprise as he knocked her down.

Maeven turned toward Grimley and reared her hand back to throw her lightning, but the gargoyle lowered his head and charged. She tried to dart out of the way, but his wing clipped her side, making her yelp and stumble to the ground. She lost her concentration, and her lightning fizzled out in a burst of hot sparks.

“Evie!” a voice yelled. “Evie!”

I whirled around to find Gemma running toward me from the other side of the gazebo, with a dagger clutched in her hand. Perhaps it was the soft light, but her dagger gleamed the same dull silver as mine, as if it was also made of tearstone.

“Gemma!” I yelled, rushing over to her. “What are you doing here?”

“I got bored, so I snuck out of the ball and went up on the roof with Grimley,” she said in a high, breathless voice. “I saw Maeven and the Mortans creeping through the gardens, so I followed them. I couldn’t let them hurt you or anyone else. You saved me at Seven Spire, and now, I saved you.”

My heart swelled with pride, and I reached out and hugged her tight with one arm. “Yes, you did,” I said in a fierce voice. “Yes, you did.”

More yells and screams rang out as Grimley continued to smash and slash his way through the Mortans.