Protect the Prince (Crown of Shards #2)(38)

Now I was truly alone, except of course for my escort of royal guards. I glanced from one Andvarian face to the next, but they all glared back at me, the same as before. Tough crowd.

I stood in the hallway, staring at the closed doors, for the better part of ten minutes. The guards shifted on their feet and whispered among themselves, but I stood perfectly still and quiet. Maybe I should have been angry, but the delay didn’t bother me. I had spent the last fifteen years at Seven Spire waiting for some boring tea, recital, or other event to begin. Besides, the lag gave me a few extra minutes to convince myself that I could somehow win the king’s favor and earn his trust, along with a new treaty—or at least try to convince myself that I could do it.

I might not think that I deserved to be queen, or that I had the skills, strength, or magic to truly be a Winter queen, but it was my duty to do what was best for Bellona. Performing well in Heinrich’s court would be an important step forward, not just for my kingdom but for me personally. It would be a sign that perhaps my pretender status could slowly morph into one of true confidence and power. That was my hope, anyway.

The opening strains of the Blair royal march sounded, although the thick doors muffled the loud, cheery music. The march played and played, but the doors still didn’t open. While I waited, I touched my sword on my belt, then my dagger beside it, and finally the silver bracelet on my wrist. Perhaps it was silly, but feeling the tearstone shards and their distinctive crown crests under my fingertips soothed me.

Over the past several months, I had done so many things that had once seemed utterly impossible. I had survived a massacre, won a black-ring gladiator match, and triumphed in a royal challenge to the death. What was one angry, grieving king and a court full of hostile nobles compared to all that?

The Blair royal march ended. In the distance, a faint creak sounded, slowly growing louder and louder, as the double doors were drawn back, revealing the throne room beyond.

I fixed my face into a benign, pleasant mask, then strode forward for my most important performance as queen so far.

Showtime.

*

I stepped through the open doors, my gaze flicking left and right, taking in everything around me.

In many ways, the Glitnir throne room was like the one at Seven Spire. An enormous, cavernous space with columns here and there, a second-floor balcony that wrapped around three sides of the area, and a throne perched on a raised dais.

But that’s where the similarities ended.

A wide black carpet led from the doors all the way to the dais at the opposite end of the room. The Ripley gargoyle crest done in glittering silver thread marched down the center of the carpet, repeating itself over and over again, while black banners bearing the same silver-thread crest hung from many of the columns.

But those weren’t the only gargoyles in the throne room.

The creatures’ faces were carved, embossed, or emblazoned on practically everything, from the floor to the walls to the columns. Most of the gargoyles were made of silver, with flashing jewels for eyes, and the bright, winking facets made it seem as though the creatures were glaring at me, the treacherous Bellonan in their midst.

I glanced up, half expecting to see real gargoyles circling overhead, ready to swoop down and tear me to pieces, but the ceiling only featured chandeliers made of jet, along with alternating patterns of white and gray diamonds. It took me a few seconds to peer past the dazzling gems and realize that the chandeliers were also shaped like enormous gargoyle faces, all of which seemed to be glaring down at me. I grimaced and dropped my gaze.

I had always thought that the Seven Spire throne room was grand, but I was once again reminded just how much wealthier Andvari was than my own kingdom. And the wealth wasn’t limited to the furnishings. It was also on full display on the people.

Nobles lined both sides of the carpet, all of them dressed in fine silks and velvets and practically dripping with gold and gems. The stench of beauty glamours and other soft, subtle magics clung to their jewelry, and I had to twitch my nose to hold back a sneeze. Still more finely dressed nobles were seated on the second-floor balcony.

Guards clutching silver spears were spaced along both sides of the carpet. I wondered who the guards were supposed to protect—me or the nobles. Hard to say, since the nobles were giving me the same murderous stares as the guards.

I kept my shoulders up and my head held high as I walked along, trying to seem regal, confident, and queenly. My gaze focused on the people on the raised dais at the opposite end of the room. I’d seen paintings of the royal family, so I knew who they were.

King Heinrich Aldric Magnus Ripley was sitting front and center on a large throne made of polished jet. White and gray diamonds were embedded in the top of the chair, fitting together to form the gargoyle crest.

Heinrich looked to be in his fifties and had the same dark brown hair, strong jaw, and piercing blue eyes as Sullivan. The king was wearing a black tunic, along with leggings and boots, and a short, formal gray jacket covered with medals and ribbons stretched across his shoulders. He was a handsome man, although his face seemed pale, and wide streaks of gray glinted in his hair. A silver crown set with pieces of jet, along with white and gray diamonds, rested on his head. It was easily three times the size of my own crown.

I drew in a breath, tasting the air. Despite the distance between us, I could still easily pick out the king’s scent—cold vanilla mixed with a hint of caustic magic. Not surprising, since Heinrich was a magier, just like Sullivan.