Crush the King (Crown of Shards #3)(17)
As queen, I had the final say on which Bellonans got to participate in the Regalia, including the Tournament of Champions, the most prestigious event, with a hefty prize of ten thousand gold crowns. Everything at Seven Spire was always a competition, but few items were as hotly contested as the Regalia slots, and the nobles had been showering me with flattery and fancy gifts for weeks, in hopes of swaying my opinion about who should enter what events. Fullman had been among the most persistent and annoying, especially when it came to trying to get his son Tolliver into the tournament.
“I’m sure Tolliver has far better things to do than fight in the tournament,” I said, trying to tell Fullman no without snapping and losing my temper as I so often did with him.
But of course Fullman didn’t take the hint. He never did. “But Tolliver has been training for months. Besides, someone from our family has been in the tournament for the last five generations. It’s a time-honored tradition for a Fullman to compete, and Tolliver should lead the Bellonan warriors, just as I did when I was his age.” His chin lifted, and his chest and belly both puffed up with bloated pride.
“I certainly admire Tolliver’s . . . dedication,” I said, once again trying to be diplomatic. “But Paloma is the highest-ranked gladiator in Svalin and one of the top-ranked gladiators on the continent. She’s earned the right to lead the other warriors and represent Bellona.”
A disgusted sneer twisted Fullman’s face, and he threw up his hands in frustration. “But she’s not even from Bellona! She’s some Floresian ogre morph of questionable lineage!”
Red-hot anger roared through me at the way he so casually dismissed my friend and her skills and mocked her heritage. Paloma was right. She was worth twenty of this pompous, arrogant bastard. No, not twenty. Two hundred. Two thousand. Two million.
Fullman must have realized his grave mistake, because he quickly lowered his hands and schooled his face into a more neutral expression. “Not that there’s anything wrong with Floresians. Or ogre morphs,” he added, although we could both hear the lie in his high, nervous tone.
“Let me be clear,” I said, my own voice growing colder and more menacing with each and every word. “Tolliver is a piss-poor fighter. He doesn’t even like to get his tunic dirty. He never did, not even when we were children. He will get eliminated in the first minute in the first round of the tournament. Paloma, on the other hand, will easily advance, probably all the way to the finals. So Paloma will be representing Bellona in the tournament, along with whomever else I choose. Not Tolliver.”
“But . . . but it’s my family’s tradition,” Fullman sputtered.
“I care about family traditions, but I care even more about winning. And we both know that Bellona won’t win anything—not one thing—if Tolliver competes.”
I glared at Fullman, daring him to contradict me, but for once he did the smart thing and shut his mouth, although hot, peppery anger blasted off him, along with a strong note of smoky deception. I’d pissed him off, and he was planning to retaliate. Well, this wouldn’t be the first time some noble had started scheming against me, although Fullman had enough land, men, and money to do more damage than most.
“You’re going to regret this,” he hissed.
“That’s the beauty of being queen—I never have to regret anything.”
I kept glaring at him, letting him see that I wasn’t the least bit intimidated. An angry red flush stained Fullman’s cheeks, and he spun around and stormed across the bridge, heading back toward the palace.
The sharp slap-slap-slap-slap of his boots quickly faded away, but it was almost immediately replaced by another, softer set of footsteps. Lady Diante glided forward and stopped beside me. I’d been so focused on Fullman that I’d forgotten she was still lurking around.
“I hope you enjoyed the show.”
“Seeing you put Fullman in his place? Absolutely,” she murmured in a soft, silky voice. “Little things like that always brighten my day.”
I snorted out a laugh.
She smiled, and a bit of genuine warmth crinkled her face. Diante could be as ruthless as any noble, but there were times like these when I thought she almost respected me—at least until she tried to undercut me with some new proposal that would benefit her family. But I couldn’t fault her for that. Seven Spire was its own sort of arena, and everyone was always ready, willing, and eager to stab their rivals in the back to further advance their own position and standing.
“What can I do for you, Diante?” I asked, getting down to business.
“I also wanted to inquire about the Tournament of Champions.”
I sighed. “Let me guess. You want one of your grandsons to compete.”
She shrugged. “We both know that you’ve chosen Paloma with good reason, and you’re right in that she could potentially win the tournament.” She paused. “But I would like you to consider Nico for one of the slots.”
Nico was one of the best warriors at Seven Spire and especially skilled at archery. I’d already been considering him for the Tournament of Champions, along with the separate archery competition. I had expected Diante to suggest some relative with no skill at all, someone she wanted to placate or appease, like Fullman had with Tolliver, but she was offering me a perfectly reasonable choice, one that all the other nobles could agree on. It made me even more suspicious about what she was really up to.