Protect the Prince (Crown of Shards #2)(79)

I could believe that. Magic did all sorts of things we didn’t expect. That’s why it was, well, magic.

“And the weapons? You made those years ago, long before Vasilia started planning the massacre. Why?”

“I made the sword, the dagger, and the shield because of Serilda,” Alvis replied. “Because of her visions.”

This time, I frowned. “She told you that Vasilia would one day be the cause of Cordelia’s death?”

“Yes. Cordelia might not have believed Serilda, but I certainly did. I didn’t have to be a time magier or have visions to see that Vasilia was rotten to the core.”

My eyes narrowed in thought. “So that’s why you made the weapons out of tearstone. To specifically absorb and deflect Vasilia’s lightning.”

“Yes. As well as any other magic they might come into contact with.” Alvis smiled at me again. “What I didn’t realize back then was that the person who would wield them would have her own way to deal with magic. Even Serilda couldn’t see that.”

“Did you know about my immunity from the beginning? From the first day that Auster brought me to your workshop?”

He shook his head. “No, but I couldn’t understand why the magic kept fading out of my jewelry designs, and after a few months, I realized that it happened only after you touched the pieces. That’s when I first started to suspect, although you were very good at hiding your power.”

“Apparently, I still am. The Seven Spire nobles don’t realize that I’m immune to magic. They think that your bracelet and weapons are what protect me. I’m surprised no one’s tried to steal them yet.”

Alvis’s face darkened. “They will, though.”

I nodded. Whether you were rich or poor, noble or common, royal or not, someone always coveted what you had, even if they already had more than you. That was just the way the world worked, especially in the cutthroat arena of Seven Spire.

“There’s something else I want to know,” I said, my voice dropping even lower. “Something that’s more important than everything else. Something that Maeven said right before Vasilia blasted me off the side of the palace with her lightning.”

“What?” Alvis asked, although his hands curled around the edge of the table, as if he was bracing himself for the questions he knew were coming next.

“Why does Maeven want me dead so badly?” I drew in a breath, then slowly let it out. “And what does it really mean to be a Winter queen?”

Alvis stared at me, an unreadable expression on his face. For a moment, I thought that he wasn’t going to answer, but he finally spoke. “The Mortan royal family has hated the Blairs ever since Bryn Blair killed their king in one-on-one combat. I don’t know what upset the Mortans more: that Bryn, a lowly gladiator, bested their king, or that she united the people against Morta and formed her own kingdom of Bellona. Either way, she humiliated them and thwarted their plans. That’s when it all started. For every generation since then, the Mortans have been determined to destroy the Blairs. They see the Blairs and Bellona as the only things standing in their way of conquering the entire continent.”

Frustration filled me. I already knew all of that, and I didn’t need another history lesson about my own kingdom. “That’s not what I’m asking, and you know it. Maeven specifically wanted to destroy the Winter line of the Blair family. Why not the Summers, who were considered to be more powerful? What does Maeven know about my family—about my magic—that I don’t?”

Alvis opened his mouth, as though he was finally going to give me some answers, but then a soft sigh escaped his lips, and he shook his head. “I can’t tell you that. You have to discover it for yourself, Evie.”

“Discover what?” I asked, a pleading note creeping into my voice. “Why won’t you just tell me? I need to know before Maeven and her Bastard Brigade try to kill me again.”

Alvis’s lips pressed together, and the scent of his garlic guilt filled the air. He really did want to tell me, but something was stopping him. After several long seconds, he shook his head again. Disappointment filled me, along with more than a little anger.

Why wouldn’t he just fucking tell me?

I drew in a breath to demand some answers, but Alvis slid off his stool and grabbed a black velvet tray off a table against the wall.

“Here.” He came back over and set down the tray beside me. “Maybe this will help.”

A bracelet rested on the black velvet. I blinked at the familiar design. Pieces of silver twisted together to resemble sharp thorns, all of which wrapped around and protected the design in the center—a crown made of seven shards of midnight-blue tearstone.

This wasn’t just any bracelet—it was identical to the one I was already wearing on my right wrist, including the protective magic pulsing through the tearstone shards.

“May I?” Alvis asked in a soft voice.

I nodded, pushed up my sleeve, and held out my left arm. He picked up the bracelet, gently slid it onto my wrist, and carefully hooked the clasp together.

I stared at the new bracelet on my left wrist, then the matching one on my right wrist, and I realized that they weren’t really bracelets at all.

“Gauntlets?” I asked. “For what?”

“Gemma isn’t the only one who needs protecting,” Alvis murmured. “Or help with her magic.”