Crush the King (Crown of Shards #3)(25)



Even in the middle of the night, a queen’s work was never done.





Chapter Six


Normally, when I left my chambers for my midnight rendezvous, I used the secret passageway hidden behind the bookcase along the wall. But tonight I unlocked one of the main doors and walked through the palace.

Perhaps it was my bad dream or the geldjager attack, but I wanted to make sure that no more enemies were creeping around Seven Spire. Everything was quiet, and almost everyone was tucked away in their own chambers.

A few guards were roaming around, but I easily avoided them and climbed the stairs to the fifth floor. No one was moving on this level, not even a guard, so I opened a door at the end of a hallway, slipped through to the other side, and locked it behind me.

At my entrance, the fluorestones embedded in the ceiling clicked on, bathing the area in soft white light. This room was average in almost every way. It was neither small nor large and was filled with ordinary, serviceable furniture—chairs, a vanity table, a bed, an armoire, a writing desk. The adjoining bathroom was also unremarkable, as were the collective contents. Dresses, tunics, and leggings hanging in the armoire. Lotions, perfumes, and berry balms sitting on the bathroom counter. A jewelry box perched on the vanity table.

The only thing that made this area special was that it used to be Maeven’s room, back when she had been masquerading as the kitchen steward and plotting to kill Queen Cordelia.

My friends and I had searched this room for clues many times, but we’d largely come up empty. Knowing what kind of honeysuckle perfume Maeven liked or ogling her stunning jewelry collection didn’t help in my war against her and the rest of the Bastard Brigade.

Still, I found myself coming here more nights than not. I wasn’t quite sure why. Perhaps I simply enjoyed the peace and quiet. No one, not even Paloma or Sullivan, ever thought to look for me here. Or perhaps I was just obsessed with Maeven the same way she seemed to be with me, with both of us desperately trying to uncover the other’s weaknesses so that one of us could finally kill the other. Either way, I intended to use the room as my own private escape for as long as possible.

I sat down at the writing desk. Two items were gleaming on the wooden surface—a bronze pocket watch and a silver signet ring that both featured a fancy cursive M. The letter was engraved on the watch’s cover and embossed in silver on a flat piece of jet in the center of the ring, which also featured tiny amethysts, along with feathers etched into its band.

The pocket watch had belonged to Ansel, my treacherous tutor, who had died in the woods outside Winterwind when Marisse, his own cousin and another member of the Bastard Brigade, had murdered him. The signet ring belonged to Maeven, and it was the only noteworthy thing she had left behind when she and Nox, another Mortan royal, had fled from Seven Spire the night I’d killed Vasilia and taken the throne.

I reached into my pocket, drew out the gold chain and pendant that Lena had been wearing, and set them on the desk. The three coins that made up the woman’s eyes and mouth glimmered like gold stars. The Fortuna Mint pendant was another piece to add to my macabre collection of jewelry that my enemies had worn. Enemies who were all dead now, except for Maeven.

The desire to tear her to pieces for what she’d done to my family rose up inside me, and I gave in to my rage, leaned back in the chair, and let myself imagine choking the life out of Maeven with my bare hands. Then I slowly, reluctantly pushed the fantasy aside. I had something else in mind for Maeven, something far worse than a quick and easy death, but only time would tell whether I’d triumph in my long game with her and she’d get what she so richly deserved.

Still thinking about my plans for Maeven, I glanced over at the freestanding mirror in the corner. The long oval glass housed in a plain ebony frame looked like another ordinary piece of furniture, but it was actually a Cardea mirror that let people see and speak to each other over great distances.

I had discovered the mirror a couple of months ago, after Maeven had sent an assassin to Seven Spire to try to kill me, and I had spoken to her through the glass several times since then. Perhaps it was strange, but I actually found myself looking forward to our talks. Maybe because this was the only way I had to keep track of Maeven and figure out what new plots she was hatching. Or maybe it was because the two of us understood each other better than anyone else ever could, as weird and wrong as that was. Either way, I waited, wondering if Maeven would appear tonight.

About five minutes later, the scent of magic filled the chambers, and the mirror started glowing with a bright, silvery light. I stood up and walked over to the mirror, which was now rippling as though it were made of water instead of solid glass. The silver glare quickly faded away, and the surface of the mirror smoothed out, revealing Maeven’s chambers, which were much like the ones I was standing in here at Seven Spire. But to my surprise, she didn’t appear on the other side of the glass.

A boy did.

He was thirteen, maybe fourteen, with black hair, pale skin, and a body that was all long, thin, spindly arms and legs, although I could see subtle hints of the strong, solid man he would grow into. His head was turned to the side, and his profile and the shape of his nose, lips, and chin were eerily similar to Maeven’s.

This had to be Maeven’s son. Dahlia, Sullivan’s mother and another member of the Bastard Brigade, had said that Maeven had children, and I was finally getting a look at one of them. I wondered if he was already as cruel as his mother was.

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