Protect the Prince (Crown of Shards #2)(9)

“Oh, yes, I remember Tolliver,” I said, my voice sharpening. “I remember how I once asked him to dance at a royal ball in this very room. I also remember how he laughed and told me that he would rather dance with a gargoyle than ever put his arms around me. I believe that was when we were sixteen, maybe seventeen. I’m not sure of the exact date. The parties and insults tend to blur together as the years pass.”

Fullman’s eyes widened, while Tolliver’s face turned an interesting shade of purple. This time, shocked gasps rang out instead of mocking laughter. The nobles hadn’t thought that I would be so bold as to insult someone as powerful as Fullman. They didn’t realize that I was just getting started.

I glanced at my friends. Auster was grinning, as were Paloma and Cho. Serilda nodded her approval, while Xenia gave me a sly wink, as did the ogre on her neck. I still didn’t look at Sullivan, though. I didn’t want to add to the rumors about us.

So far, Fullman had been doing all the talking, plotting, and manipulating. It wasn’t enough for me to merely block his attacks. I needed to show the nobles that I was a force to be reckoned with, just like Cordelia and Vasilia had been.

I might secretly think that I was a fraud, a pretend Winter queen, but I could never let anyone see my insecurity. I had tried to be nice, polite, and reasonable with Fullman, but no more. Fighting back was the only way I was going to survive for any length of time.

So I stood up, walked down the dais, and stopped at the bottom of the steps. The nobles retreated a few feet, and I paced back and forth in front of them, choosing my next target carefully. I also scanned the crowd again, searching for the source of that jalape?o rage, but I still couldn’t pinpoint it to figure out who wanted me dead.

“Although I suppose that Lord Fullman has a point. I should pick out someone to marry. After all, it’s not like any of you would say no, is it?”

No one responded, and not so much as a whisper broke the tense, heavy silence.

Finally, I stopped in front of Lady Diante, who had sent me that basket of pears. Diante was in her seventies, with golden eyes, ebony skin, and short, iron-gray hair that was twisted into tight curls. She was one of the most powerful nobles and Fullman’s equal in terms of land, men, and money. Even better, she and Fullman were bitter rivals.

“What about you, Diante?” I asked. “Which one of your grandsons would make a good consort?”

Her eyes narrowed. She didn’t know what I was doing, but she wasn’t going to pass up this opportunity. “I have several grandsons who would suit you quite nicely, my queen,” she said in a deep, throaty voice. “Pick out any one you like.”

She waved her hand, and three men scurried forward to stand beside her, all with the same golden eyes and sharp cheekbones that she had. I looked at each one of them, as though I was considering picking out a husband as casually as Paloma had plucked a pear out of that fruit basket.

“Funny you should say that. Because I remember a time several years ago when Queen Cordelia suggested matching me to one of your grandsons. What was it you said to her?”

Diante frowned, and her eyes narrowed again, as if she was trying to recall that particular insult and how much it was going to damage her now.

I tapped my fingers on my lips, as though I was searching for the answer, then snapped them together. “Oh, yes! You laughed and said that you would never marry any of your grandsons to me, a lowly mutt. And then you added that any baby I had wouldn’t have enough magic to make it worth the milk it took to feed the child.”

More shocked gasps rang out. Diante grimaced and opened her mouth, probably to apologize, but I stared her down, and she had the common sense to keep quiet.

When I was sure that she was going to hold her tongue, I stared out at the nobles in front of me, as well as those up on the balcony, who were leaning forward in their seats, totally invested in the drama.

“Let me be clear,” I said, my voice booming out almost as loudly as Cho’s had. “I will choose a consort when I am ready, and not one moment before. And if you think to sway me with gifts or pretty words, remember this: I didn’t just stumble into Seven Spire the night I killed Vasilia. I was here for fifteen long years before that, so I know every single one of you. I know your strengths, your weaknesses, and especially the petty little schemes you like to inflict on one another.”

The nobles shifted on their feet and in their seats. They hadn’t expected me to be so blunt, but I didn’t care about bruising their egos. Not anymore. I was already sick and tired of their fucking games, and if I didn’t take control of the court—of them—right now, then I never would.

“I remember every single insult any of you ever hurled my way, from the time when I was a child right up until the royal massacre. I haven’t forgotten your cruelties, and I’m certainly not going to reward you for them now.”

“Then what are you going to do?” Diante asked, although her voice was low, and I almost thought I saw a bit of grudging respect glinting in her eyes.

“There is an old saying, one that we are all quite proud of: Bellonans are very good at playing the long game.”

Everyone nodded, and several folks stood up taller with pride. Bellonans were good at playing the long game, at being patient and lying in wait for their enemies to make a mistake so they could move in and finally, fully decimate them. No one played that game better than the Seven Spire nobles, and they’d taught me how to play it too.