Protect the Prince (Crown of Shards #2)(12)

So much blood. So many bodies.

“Guards!” Auster yelled again. “Protect the queen! Protect Everleigh!”

The sound of my name broke the spell, and I snapped back to the here and now. Determination surged through me. I had survived that assassination attempt. I would survive this one too.

I yanked my sword free of its scabbard. The tearstone blade felt as light as a swan feather in my hand, but the slight weight steadied me. I had killed Vasilia with this sword, and I would do the same to this new enemy.

Libby swiped the sangria out of her eyes and lifted her hand again. More purple lightning exploded on her fingertips, and I could smell the hot, caustic stench of it even above the fruity tang of the sangria. She wasn’t as strong as Maeven, but she was still a powerful magier.

“Maeven sends her regards!” Libby hissed.

Then she reared back and threw her magic at me.

I lifted my sword so that I was holding it upright, with the blade in front of my body, as though I were trying to use the weapon to protect myself from her power. In a way, that was exactly what I was doing, since the tearstone sword was designed to deflect magic.

But the sword’s ability to deflect magic was nothing compared to mine.

Magiers, morphs, and masters might look down their noses at mutts, but us mutts had all sorts of skills—strength, speed, enhanced senses. But I had a far more unusual and valuable skill than most.

I was immune to magic.

I felt the burning, sizzling power of Libby’s lightning the second it popped into her hand. A cold, hard power rose up inside me in response, eager to lash out and completely throttle her hot, crackling magic.

So I let it.

Libby’s lightning slammed into my body with brutal, breathtaking force. My tearstone sword deflected some of her magic, as did the tearstone shards in my bracelet, but the electric heat of her power danced across my skin, trying to burn me alive. So I reached for my own magic, for my own immunity, and used it to push back against the lightning. I’d left my gladiator shield in my chambers, but in a way, my immunity was an even stronger, better shield, this invisible barrier that I could twist, bend, and shape however I wanted.

And right now, I wanted to use it to throttle all that damned lightning.

I pictured my immunity like a fist punching back against Libby’s magic. She might be powerful, but my magic was stronger than hers, and my immunity shattered her power. The lightning blasted against my body, but it snuffed out an instant later, dissolving into a shower of purple sparks that dropped down and started smoking on the carpet, just like the poisonous sangria was still doing.

Libby’s mouth dropped open in surprise. She obviously thought that one bolt of lightning should have been more than enough to kill me, but she reared her hand back and tossed another bolt at me. This time, I used my tearstone sword and the force of my immunity to slap the magic down onto the floor like it was a ball I was hitting in some child’s game.

The lightning exploded against the flagstones, sending more purple sparks shooting everywhere and causing the nobles to scream again and retreat even farther away.

Libby must have realized that her lightning wasn’t going to get the job done because she reached under her tunic and drew out a silver dagger from the small of her back.

“Death to the Winter queen!” she hissed.

My nose twitched. A soft, lavender scent wafted off the dagger. At first smell, it was pleasant enough, but I drew in another breath, and I sensed the foul rot lurking in the deceptively light, sweet aroma. The blade was poisoned, even more so than the sangria had been. I might be immune to magic, but I had no idea what kind of poison was on that dagger, and I couldn’t let her so much as scratch me with it.

Libby lashed out with the dagger, trying to bury the blade in my heart. Music started playing in my mind, and I let the quick, steady beat carry me away.

As a child, I had never been much good at fighting, despite Captain Auster’s repeated attempts to teach me. But I had always loved music and dancing, and Serilda had realized that the key to turning me into a gladiator was to treat fighting for my life as though it were just an elaborate dance that I needed to learn for some ball. She had spent the last several months training me, and now, I could hold my own against the best, most skilled warriors.

My feet, legs, arms, and hands moved through the familiar patterns of this deadly dance, and I ducked out of the way of Libby’s vicious attack, then swiped out with my own sword in a brutal counterstrike.

Libby lunged back, whirled around, and faced me again. She moved to her left, and I twirled my sword around in my hand and followed her, matching her step for step. The two of us danced in a slow circle, analyzing and cataloguing the other’s strengths and weaknesses.

A tense, heavy silence dropped over the throne room. No one said a word, and the only sound was the faint thud-thud-thud-thud of our footsteps. This time, instead of stampeding away, the nobles tiptoed forward, forming a ring around Libby and me and watching our every move.

It reminded me of fighting in a black-ring match at the Black Swan arena. Bellonans loved their gladiator blood sport, and the nobles more so than most. They wouldn’t pass up this chance to see me in action again, despite the danger to themselves.

This had morphed from an assassination attempt into a test.

As I circled around, I spotted Captain Auster, who had shoved his way to the front of the crowd, along with my friends. He started to put himself in between the assassin and me, but Xenia latched onto his arm. He started to pull loose, but she shook her head.