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



My colors now.

“I still wish that you had let me make you something grander,” Calandre murmured. “I could have easily done it with my magic.”

She was a master, which meant that her magic let her work with a specific object or element to create amazing things. In Calandre’s case, she had complete control over thread, fabric, and the like. My nose twitched. I could smell her power on my tunic, a faint, vinegary odor that was the same as the dyes that she used to give her garments their glorious colors.

Calandre had tried to get me to don a ball gown for today’s formal court session, since all the attending nobles would be decked out in their own finery, but I’d refused. I wasn’t the queen everyone had expected, and I certainly wasn’t the one they wanted, so draping myself in layers of silk and cascades of jewels seemed silly and pointless. Besides, you couldn’t fight very well in a ball gown. Although in that regard, it didn’t really matter what I wore, since every day at Seven Spire was a battle.

“Forget the clothes,” another voice chimed in. “I still can’t believe that people sent you all this stuff.”

I looked over at a tall woman with braided blond hair and beautiful bronze skin who was lounging on a blue velvet settee. She was wearing a forest-green tunic that brought out her golden amber eyes, along with the usual black leggings and boots. A large silver mace was lying next to her on the settee, with the spikes slowly stabbing the plump cushions to death.

Paloma waved her hand at the low table in front of her. “C’mon. How much stuff does one queen need?”

Every inch of the table was covered with baskets, bowls, and platters brimming with everything from fresh produce to smelly cheeses to bottles of champagne. Other tables throughout the room boasted similar items, as did the writing desk, the nightstand beside the four-poster bed, and the top of the armoire. Not to mention the cloaks, gloves, and other garments piled up in the corners or the paintings, statues, and other knickknacks propped up against the walls. I’d gotten so many welcome gifts that I’d resorted to perching them on the windowsills, just so I would be able to walk through my chambers.

Paloma grabbed a white card out of a basket on the table. “Who is Lady Diante, and why did she send you a basket of pears?”

“Diante is an extremely wealthy noble who owns fruit orchards in one of the southern districts,” I said. “And it’s a Bellonan tradition to send the new queen a gift wishing her a long and prosperous reign.”

Paloma snorted. “Funny tradition, sending a gift to someone you’re plotting against.”

Calandre’s lips puckered, and her two sisters gasped. Calandre was a Bellonan courtier who was traditional and polite to a fault. She didn’t much care for Paloma’s bluntness, but she didn’t say anything. She might be a master, but Paloma was a much stronger morph.

Calandre stared at the morph mark on Paloma’s neck. All morphs had some sort of tattoo-like mark on their bodies that indicated what creature they could shift into. Paloma’s mark was a fearsome ogre face with amber eyes, a lock of blond hair, and plenty of sharp teeth.

The ogre must have sensed Calandre’s disapproving gaze, because its blinking, liquid eyes shifted in her direction. The ogre looked at her a moment, then opened its mouth wide in a silent laugh. Calandre’s lips puckered again, and she let out an indignant sniff, which made the ogre laugh even more.

“Well, then, perhaps you should taste test the pears,” I sniped. “Just to make sure that Lady Diante isn’t trying to poison me.”

“That’s an excellent idea,” Paloma drawled. “Especially since I know that mutt nose of yours would never be able to stand having poisoned fruit in here.”

Calandre winced, and her two sisters gasped again at Paloma so casually calling me a mutt. The common, if somewhat condescending, term referred to those with relatively simple, straightforward powers like enhanced strength or speed, as well as people like me who seemed to have very little magic. But I didn’t mind. I had been called far worse things. Besides, Paloma was my best friend, and I found her honesty refreshing, especially after so many years of people smiling to my face, then spewing venom behind my back.

Paloma plucked a pear from the basket and sank her teeth into it. She grinned, as did the ogre on her neck. “See? Not poisoned.”

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t help grinning back at her. “Well, eat fast. Because now that I’m properly attired, it’s time for our first battle of the day.”

*

I thanked Calandre and her sisters for their services. The thread master curtsied to me, gave Paloma another disapproving sniff, and left. While Paloma ate another pear, I cinched a black leather belt around my waist, then hooked a sword and a dagger to it.

A queen shouldn’t have to carry weapons, at least not inside her own palace, but then again, I was no ordinary queen.

And these were far from ordinary weapons.

The sword and the dagger both gleamed a dull silver, and both of their hilts featured seven midnight-blue jewels that formed my crown-of-shards crest. But what made the weapons truly special was that they were made entirely of tearstone. The sword and the dagger were far lighter than normal blades, and they would also absorb and deflect magic, just like the blue tearstone shards in their hilts and in my bracelet would.

A matching tearstone shield was propped up beside my bed, but I decided not to strap it to my forearm. Carrying a sword and a dagger was noteworthy enough, but taking the shield as well would make me seem weak, something that I could ill afford.

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