Protect the Prince (Crown of Shards #2)(36)

“Hello, Captain Rhea. I want to thank you and your guards for your generous hospitality.” I made my voice warm and pleasant, following the standard protocol script.

Rhea’s jaw clenched, but she dipped her head, acknowledging my politeness. “I will escort you to the palace. King Heinrich is eager to meet you.”

I just bet he is. I kept my sarcastic thought to myself, though.

With Rhea leading the way, and the Andvarian guards surrounding us, my entourage and I left the platform, walked through the rail station, and exited on the street. From there, I climbed into an enclosed carriage. Paloma got inside with me, while a couple of Bellonan guards perched on top of the vehicle. And then away we went, rolling through the streets of Glanzen.

I had been to Glanzen once with my parents, but my memories of that childhood trip were faint and dim, so I peered out the window, trying to see everything at once.

Glanzen was similar to Svalin with its cobblestone streets, wide plazas, and bubbling fountains, but everything here was older and much more refined, polished, and elegant. The Andvarians’ tall, slender homes and shops made Bellona’s shorter, squatter buildings seem like pale imitations and crude, brittle shells in comparison.

And it wasn’t just the shapes and sizes that were different. Every single structure featured exquisite, intricate stonework, from the vines that flowed through the curved steps to the flowers that adorned the smooth arches to the fluted columns that supported many of the buildings. It was like the entire city had been crafted with the utmost care by a legion of masters, and some new wonder of stone, metal, wood, and glass was waiting around every corner.

Like Bellona, mining was one of Andvari’s main industries, thanks to the Spire Mountains that ran through much of the kingdom. But whereas Bellona was known for its fluorestone, tearstone, and coal, the Andvarian mines were filled with precious metals and jewels. That glitz decorated many of the structures, whether it was gold leaf lining the windows, hammered bronze curling up a column, or garnets, moonstones, and other gems encased in a fountain rim.

But perhaps the most striking difference between the two kingdoms was what adorned the buildings. In Bellona, metal spires decorated all four corners of any home or business. Even the massive domed arenas like the Black Swan featured spires, as a tribute to the swords, spears, and other weapons used in the current gladiator matches and those throughout Bellonan history. There were no such spires in Glanzen, and something else lurked on the rooftops here.

Gargoyles.

The moving, breathing, living stone creatures crouched on many of the roofs, ranging from tiny rocks no larger than owlish caladriuses to hulking, boulder-size brutes bigger than the Floresian horses pulling the carriage. No matter their shape and size, almost all the gargoyles had curved horns on their heads, wings on their backs, and sharp talons on their paws, along with mouthfuls of long, jagged teeth that were perfect for tearing into and then crushing anything—or anyone—unfortunate enough to get in their way.

I spotted a couple of gargoyles flying back and forth across the street. The creatures were soaring through the air as frequently and casually as the eagles that cruised over the Summanus River outside Seven Spire, looking for fish to pluck out of the water.

Andvarian legends claimed that the gargoyles served as protectors, not just of the buildings they nested on top of, and the mines they burrowed into, but of the entire kingdom. Of course there were gargoyles in other kingdoms, but they were found naturally only in Andvari, and there was some magic, some quirk of nature that made the gargoyles here much more powerful than those that lived elsewhere.

The creatures were one of the main reasons why Morta hadn’t been able to conquer the other, smaller kingdom yet. The gargoyles were the fierce, natural enemies of the strixes, the enormous hawklike birds with purple feathers that Mortan soldiers often rode into battle. Still, the gargoyles and the magic they possessed were probably another reason why the Mortan king lusted after Andvari, along with the kingdom’s mines.

The carriage stopped to let other traffic cross the street, and a shadow fell over the vehicle, blocking the sunlight. I looked up again and realized that a gargoyle was sitting on a nearby rooftop, staring down at me.

The creature was roughly the size of a large dog, with two sharp horns that jutted up like curved swords from its dark gray forehead and a long tail tipped with what looked like a stone arrow. The gargoyle’s eyes burned a bright sapphire-blue, and its gaze slowly sharpened as it studied me, as if it was thinking about how I might taste for dinner. Gargoyles mostly ate gravel and other small stones, along with mice, rats, birds, and the like, but this one looked like he wanted to branch out and snack on my blood and bones. I shivered and leaned back against the cushions.

Thirty minutes later, the carriage slowed, and I peered out the window again. We had arrived at Glitnir, the glittering, gleaming heart of Andvari.

The palace was made of a pale marble that was somewhere between white and gray, and it glowed like an enormous opal in the noon sun. Balconies, terraces, and crenellations adorned the palace’s wings and towers, along with large, diamond-shaped windows. Ribbons of hammered gold, silver, and bronze flowed across the stone and curled up many of the steps, walls, and archways, while precious gems added little pops of color here and there, as though they were flowers blooming in the marble and opening up their jeweled petals to the blue sky.

The centerpiece of the palace was a tall, wide wing topped with an enormous dome that rose above all the other levels. Several spiked towers jutted up out of the dome, making it look like a crown of swords.