Protect the Prince (Crown of Shards #2)(29)

Maeven.

Her blond hair was swept up into a simple, elegant bun, and her eyes glittered like two dark amethysts against her flawless skin. Her features were quite lovely, although the perpetual, displeased pucker of her lips made her seem much older than her forty-something years.

A silver choker studded with amethysts and moonstones glittered around her throat, although it was so wide and tight that it seemed more like a collar than a piece of jewelry. A matching amethyst-and-moonstone ring glinted on her finger.

I studied the silver-thread embroidery on her lilac gown, but I didn’t see any symbols in the loops and swirls. Bastards probably didn’t get to wear the royal Mortan crest.

Maeven leaned forward. I held my breath, wondering if this might be a Cardea mirror that you could actually step through from one side to the other, but she stayed where she was.

“Libby?” Maeven’s low, silky voice echoed out of the mirror. “Are you there? Is it done?”

Of course. I should have realized what this was about the moment she appeared.

Still clutching my sword, I stepped forward so that I was standing in front of the mirror where she could see me. “So sorry to disappoint, but I survived your assassination attempt.”

Maeven’s face hardened. “And Libby?”

“She killed herself with a poisoned dagger after she failed to kill me.”

Maeven shrugged, as if the girl’s death didn’t bother her, but her lips puckered again, and her nostrils flared with anger. Perhaps the Mortan bastards weren’t as disposable as I’d thought. At least not to one another. I filed the information away for future use.

While Maeven digested my news, I studied everything I could see in the mirror around her. The magier looked to be in her private chambers, although all I could make out of the furnishings was a writing desk covered with papers and potted plants sitting on a nearby shelf. The plants didn’t look like much, green sprigs with a few flowers, but the pots were painted rich jewel-toned shades and arranged in a row from lightest opal to darkest jet, and all the colors of the rainbow in between.

“I’m surprised it took you this long to try to kill me again,” I said, breaking the silence. “I suppose that you wanted me to lower my guard and think that I was safe here at Seven Spire. You should have known better than that.”

“Perhaps,” Maeven murmured. “I’ll keep that in mind for next time.”

“I am curious about one thing, though.”

“And what’s that?”

“What kind of poison did Libby use?”

“Why does it matter?” she muttered. “Especially since she failed?”

I shrugged. “I was just curious what kind of poison caused her so much agony. Libby’s was not an easy death. But I’m sure you’ve realized that, since you’re probably the one who gave her the poison. Tell me, were you also the one who told her to kill herself instead of surrendering?”

Maeven actually jerked back, as though my words had wounded her, and it took her a moment to blink away her surprise.

“Where’s your crown, Queen Everleigh?” she asked, a mocking note creeping into her voice. “Or have your countrymen taken it away from you already?”

“Not yet,” I replied. “But at least I have the chance to wear it. Sadly, I can’t say the same for you.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve been down in the dungeon, talking to Felton. You remember Felton, don’t you? The accomplice you so unceremoniously left behind the night that you and Nox fled from Seven Spire?” I waited for her to respond, but she didn’t say anything, so I continued. “He’s been quite a fount of information about you and your Bastard Brigade.”

A muscle ticked in Maeven’s jaw, and her nostrils flared with anger again, but she didn’t respond. I paused a moment, carefully planning my next verbal attack. This was the beginning of my long game with the magier, and I couldn’t afford to get anything wrong, not so much as a single word, and reveal my true intentions.

I started pacing back and forth in front of the mirror. “Before the massacre, I was actually planning to leave Seven Spire for good. I was going to ask Cordelia for permission during the luncheon. But then you and Vasilia put your assassination plot into motion, and everything changed for me.”

“Why were you going to leave?” Maeven asked, not even bothering to keep the curiosity out of her voice.

“I hated my life here. I hated being the royal puppet, the royal standin. My Blair cousins were always off doing so much more noble things, so much more important things, instead of sitting through boring social events like I had to. It was like I was some poor servant girl trapped in a fairy tale, only my fairy godmother never showed up to give me a way out of my own miserable life.” I stopped pacing and looked at her. “Although given my current circumstances, one could argue that you were my fairy godmother, murderous bitch that you are.”

Maeven snorted and crossed her arms over her chest.

“Still, for as much as my cousins looked down their noses at me, it was even worse for you, wasn’t it?” I paused. “It always is, when you’re bastard born.”

Her lips puckered yet again, but she didn’t respond to my taunt, so I resumed my pacing, thinking about what to say next and how to best plunge another verbal knife deep into her heart.