Protect the Prince (Crown of Shards #2)(78)

“Promise?” she whispered.

I squeezed her shoulder again. “I promise. Now why don’t you introduce Paloma to Grimley? I need to talk to Alvis.”

Paloma stepped forward, leaned down, and stuck out her hand to Gemma. The crown princess shook Paloma’s hand, staring at the ogre face on her neck. Paloma grimaced, not liking the silent scrutiny, and I could tell that she was mentally preparing herself for Gemma to say something nasty. Paloma’s father had kicked her out for being a morph, so she was sensitive about how other people saw her and especially the creature lurking inside her.

“Your ogre is strong and pretty,” Gemma pronounced. “Just like you are.”

Paloma’s grimace melted into a soft, hesitant smile. That was all the encouragement Gemma needed to grab Paloma’s hand and tug her over to Grimley. The two of them sat down on the floor next to the gargoyle, who grumbled and cracked open a bright, sapphire-blue eye, as if he didn’t want to wake up yet. But Gemma’s happy, excited chatter soon had him yawning and rolling over so that Gemma and Paloma could rub his belly.

I sat down on the empty stool next to Alvis, then peered down through the magnifying glass so I could see what he was working on.

A pendant lay on the white velvet tray. A flat piece of silver formed the base, which was common enough, but the design was truly stunning. Alvis had arranged small pieces of black jet so that they formed a gargoyle’s face, while tiny, midnight-blue shards of tearstone glittered as the creature’s eyes, nose, teeth, and horns. I glanced at Grimley. Not just any gargoyle’s face—his face.

“A present for Gemma,” Alvis explained. “Although she doesn’t realize it yet.”

“She’s a mind magier, isn’t she?”

He blinked in surprise. “How did you know?”

“She told me that she dreams about a Mortan boy. That she can see and even talk to him sometimes. Only mind magiers can do things like that. Plus, I can smell her magic. It’s not like anything I’ve ever sensed before.” I paused. “But she’s going to be very, very strong someday. I can tell that much.”

Alvis let out a low, harsh laugh. “She’s already strong. She’s the only reason we made it out of Bellona alive.”

I waited for him to explain, but he fell silent, so I focused on the gargoyle pendant again. “You used jet and tearstone, just like you did for Serilda’s swan pendant.”

He nodded. “The jet will help block the thoughts that Gemma hears from other people’s minds, and the tearstone will help her work with and focus her own power.”

“Who else knows about her magic?”

Alvis shrugged. “It only manifested when we were fleeing from Seven Spire. I don’t think anyone else except Xenia and I know about it yet, and I want to keep it that way for as long as possible.”

Mind magiers were very rare. Some historians claimed that only a few were born every generation, but perhaps that was for the best. Mind magiers could walk through dreams, see and talk to people over great distances, and even move objects with their minds. I was betting that Gemma would grow up to do all that and more—much, much more.

“Well, the pendant is lovely, and I’m sure it will help her.” I tapped the work tray. “Although I thought that you didn’t believe in giving people presents.”

A rueful grin curved Alvis’s lips at my teasing. “I don’t—except for my apprentices.”

“So Gemma is your apprentice now?” I kept teasing him.

He shrugged again. “She spends enough time in here. She might as well be useful. And she keeps asking me questions about everything. And I do mean everything.” Another, larger grin curved his lips. “She reminds me of another little girl I knew once upon a time.”

I smiled at that, but his words reminded me of the real reason I’d come here—answers.

So I pushed up my tunic sleeve and tapped my finger on my silver bracelet. “Why did you make this for me?” My hand fell to the sword and dagger strapped to my belt, and I tapped my finger on them as well. “And why did you make these weapons and give them to Serilda all those years ago?”

Alvis’s bushy black eyebrows shot up. “That’s an awful lot of questions for this early in the day.”

“An awful lot has happened since I last saw you at Seven Spire.”

He tilted his head, ceding my point.

“Did you know the massacre was going to happen?” I asked in a low voice only he could hear. “Are you some sort of time magier like Serilda? Is that why you made the bracelet and the weapons?”

“No, I’m not a time magier.”

“But?”

“But I had my suspicions that Vasilia was up to something, although I never expected it to be anything as horrible as the massacre.”

“So why give me the bracelet? Why that morning?”

He frowned. “For weeks before the massacre, it was like all the stones of the palace were muttering to me. The floors, the walls, even the columns. It was like they could all sense what was coming. And not just them. I got the same impression from all the metal in the palace, especially the guards’ swords. I just felt this . . . pressure to finish the bracelet and give it to you as soon as possible. It’s just some quirk of magic I can’t explain.”