Protect the Prince (Crown of Shards #2)(41)

Heinrich stared at me with an unreadable expression, then waved his hand, telling me to continue. How gracious of him.

“But Vasilia’s actions were not my actions,” I said in an even louder, stronger voice. “I had no part in the massacre, and I never wanted to see any harm come to the Andvarians.”

I turned and looked around, focusing on first one noble, then another one. “But while you were all here, safe in Andvari, I was at the massacre. I was fighting for my life, and I know the horrors of that day far better than any of you.”

At my harsh, accusing words, some of the nobles actually winced.

“You weren’t the only people who lost loved ones. Nobles, guards, servants. They were all senselessly slaughtered. My queen, my cousins, my family died that day, including a woman named Isobel, who was like a second mother to me.”

I glanced over at Alvis. Tears gleamed in his eyes, and a muscle ticked in his jaw. He too was thinking about Isobel.

I looked back over the crowd again. “But what did any of you do about the massacre? Nothing—absolutely nothing. I was the one who avenged your prince, and your ambassador, and all the other people—Andvarian and Bellonan alike—who were murdered. I was the one who challenged Vasilia, and I was the one who shoved my sword through her black, treacherous heart. So perhaps you should all think about that, instead of condemning me for a crime I didn’t commit.”

Cho had been teaching me how to project my voice, and my words boomed out like thunder. But they quickly faded to nothingness, and that tense silence descended over the room again.

“We know of your heroics during the massacre,” Heinrich said. “Gemma has told me how you, Lady Xenia, and Sir Alvis helped get her to safety. The fact that you saved my granddaughter is the only reason you’re still breathing.”

His voice was even colder than before, and his face was as hard as the throne he was sitting on. But then his eyes narrowed, and the scent of his sharp, orange interest drifted down to me.

After a few seconds, the barest hint of a smile curved his lips, and satisfaction glimmered in his blue eyes, as though I’d passed some sort of test I didn’t even know he was giving me. I’d seen that same look on Queen Cordelia’s face many times, whenever she had outmaneuvered a noble before the other person had even realized that they’d fallen into her trap.

A sinking feeling filled my stomach. Heinrich hadn’t let me come to Glitnir just to apologize. No, the king wanted something from me, and I could almost see the calculations going on in his mind as he thought about the best way to get it.

Rhea stepped forward again, her hands clenched into tight fists. “You can spout pretty words all you want,” she snapped. “The fact remains that you’re alive and Prince Frederich is dead. That my father is dead.”

Her voice almost broke on that last word, and the scent of her ashy heartbreak punched me in the gut. She was angry, but she was also grieving. Both were emotions I knew all too well. And I realized how cruel and thoughtless my words had been. At least I had gotten the chance to avenge Isobel and everyone else—a chance that Rhea would never have.

Unless I gave it to her.

And I realized exactly how I could show Heinrich, Dominic, and everyone else that I was strong, that Bellona was still strong. Words weren’t going to help this situation, but I knew something that would, something that almost always did.

At the very least, everyone would enjoy the show.

“You’re right,” I said. “I can’t change what happened or the fact that your loved ones are dead. But we can still settle our differences—the Bellonan way.”

Rhea regarded me with open suspicion. “And how is that?”

“With a black-ring match.” I spread my arms out wide. “Right here, right now.”

Shocked gasps rippled through the crowd, and everyone started whispering. No one had expected me to do something so bold. No, they had expected me to bow and scrape and apologize until I was blue in the face. Maybe I should have. But that wouldn’t win me anyone’s respect, much less their cooperation. Besides, Sullivan had said that his father valued strength, and nothing showed how powerful you were more than winning a fight to the death.

“You’re the captain of the royal guard,” I said. “Surely, you’ve been to a gladiator bout or two. And I’m assuming you know how to fight. Or are those pretty weapons just for decoration?”

Rhea sucked in a breath as though I’d just slapped her across the face. She glared at me a second longer, then faced the throne.

“My king,” she said through clenched teeth. “With your permission, I would like to take Queen Everleigh up on her generous offer to separate her head from the rest of her body.”

Heinrich looked at Rhea, then back at me. More cold calculation filled his eyes, although he kept his face blank, as though it didn’t matter to him who won.

“Very well,” he said. “The Bellonans have always loved their barbaric gladiator tradition. So if it’s a fight you want, Queen Everleigh, then a fight you shall have.”

*

Heinrich called for a brief recess to let Rhea and me prepare for our impromptu battle.

I moved off to one side of the dais, and the nobles there scattered like rats, leaving me standing alone. None of the Andvarians wanted anything to do with me. No surprise there.