Protect the Prince (Crown of Shards #2)(121)

Maeven’s eyes narrowed. “And why is that?”

I held up my hand and waggled my fingers at her. “Because I’m a Winter queen, and I have a power that makes you very, very afraid. Because I can destroy your magic, and the king’s magic, and all of Morta along with it. That’s why you really want me dead, isn’t it? That’s why you wanted all the Blairs dead at the massacre, but especially the Winter line. You didn’t want to take a chance that any of the Blairs were magic masters like me.”

Her lips puckered, and she didn’t respond, but I kept going.

“When you tried to kill Sullivan with your lightning, I snuffed out your power with a wave of my hand. You saw me do it. That’s when you knew for sure what I truly was.”

“So what?” she snapped.

“So I saw how fucking scared it made you,” I snapped back. “How very scared I made you. No magier ever wants to lose their power. It’s the thing they secretly fear the most. I promise you this—if you come at me again, I will shatter your magic just like I did in the gardens. And then again, and again, until I’ve completely destroyed your magic. Until I’ve completely destroyed you.”

I leaned in even closer to the mirror. “Tell me, Maeven. What will your precious brother the king do when he realizes that you’ve lost your magic and that you’re of no further use? I don’t think he’ll be very pleased. And I don’t imagine that Bastard Brigade members get to quietly live out the remainder of their lives in some quaint little cottage.”

She didn’t respond, but agreement flashed in her eyes, along with the faintest flicker of fear.

“Face it,” I said. “You have two choices. You can keep trying to kill me and risk my destroying you and your magic in return.”

For a moment, I thought that she wasn’t going to ask me the obvious question, but she finally did. “Or?”

“Or you can stop. Just stop and get away from your brother, from Morta, from this whole twisted life you’ve been forced into.”

“No one has ever forced me into anything,” Maeven snarled. “I make my own choices, and I decide my own fate. Not you or my brother or anyone else.”

“It doesn’t seem that way to me.”

“You know nothing about me or my brother or anything else,” she hissed, her hands clenching into fists. “But there is one thing that you will know, far sooner than you think. And that’s death, Everleigh. Your death, along with the death of your precious Bellona and everything you love.”

I leaned forward even more. “Well, then, at least I’ll die for something I love, for something I truly believe in, and not because some tyrant sent me on a fool’s errand because he was too much of a coward to come and face me himself.”

Maeven’s lips pressed together, but she couldn’t deny the truth of my words. She glared at me a final time, then gave a sharp wave of her hand. The surface of the mirror rippled again, and that bright silver light flared. I had to shut my eyes against the intense glare, and when I opened them again, she had vanished, and the mirror was just a mirror again.

A thin, satisfied smile curved my lips. Despite our mutual threats, I considered our conversation a great success. I had told Maeven that she had only two options—die trying to kill me or leave the king and Morta behind forever—but the truth was that she had a third option.

I wondered if she realized that yet and exactly what that option was. If not, she soon would, given the seeds of doubt and fear I’d planted in her mind. I just wondered whether she would decide to make that third option a reality.

But I’d done all that I could, and only time would tell if my long game with Maeven ended the way I wanted it to—not in her death, but in something far, far worse.

*

I returned to my chambers. For once, I slept well, and I woke up the next morning feeling refreshed. Plotting against my enemies invigorated me.

But my light, happy feeling quickly evaporated as the day wore on, and it was completely gone by lunchtime.

I sighed and shifted on my seat, trying not to show how utterly bored I was. It was mid-afternoon, and I was once again in the throne room, listening to Lord Fullman, Lady Diante, and the other nobles drop not-so-subtle hints about which one of their sons, nephews, and grandsons I should marry. Despite returning home with the new Andvarian treaty, the nobles were still determined to wed me off.

I opened my mouth to tell Fullman, Diante, and everyone else in no uncertain terms to quit trying to foist their male relatives off on me when a faint ringing sound caught my ear. For a moment, I thought that I’d just imagined the noise, but the sound came again and again, each note a bit louder than the one before. I frowned.

Was that . . . a bell?

Fullman, Diante, and the other nobles glanced around, also wondering what that sound was.

I glanced over at Paloma, who was standing at the bottom of the dais. She was smiling, as was the ogre face on her neck, as if she knew exactly who and what was making that noise. I looked at Captain Auster, who was standing on the other side of the dais. He too was smiling. Next, I peered up at the second-floor balcony, where Serilda, Cho, and Xenia were sitting, along with Theroux, Aisha, and several other members of the Black Swan troupe. They too were grinning, as were Calandre and her sisters.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

Paloma’s grin widened. “Why don’t you go out to the royal lawn and see for yourself?”