Crush the King (Crown of Shards #3)(30)
Wide, flat barges bearing the Floresian royal crest of a golden horse running through an equally golden wheat field. Sleek, skinny ships displaying the Vacunan symbol of a green volcano with a trickle of red lava running down the side and a plume of black smoke rising above it. The large Ryusaman vessels with their thick paper sails and dragon crests done in rich jewel tones. The much smaller Andvarian ships with their snarling gargoyle faces. And finally, the Ungerian vessels with their many flags and figureheads, all of which bore fearsome ogres.
People moved all along the decks, tugging on ropes, trimming sails, and calling out to each other. Small boats surrounded many of the ships, and folks were rowing toward the massive port that lined this side of Fortuna Island. No one wanted to miss the opening ceremonies, and the smell of everyone’s collective eagerness drifted over to me on the steady breeze, along with the mix of fresh and salt waters from the river and the sea.
Captain Auster had said that the ships and the kingdoms they represented were anchored in their usual spots and that everything was proceeding as normal in the harbor. Everyone seemed to be clinging to the status quo—for now.
I had never been to the Regalia before. Back when I was just Lady Everleigh, I hadn’t been an important enough royal for Queen Cordelia to bring me, and I hadn’t had the money to attend on my own. Instead, every time the Regalia had rolled around, I had stood on the Seven Spire lawn and watched the procession leave Svalin, desperately wishing that I was skilled enough at, well, anything, to be part of the festivities. I had also been on the lawn when the procession returned, once again watching from afar and wistfully wishing that the people were cheering for my victory.
Now my childhood dream had come true, and I was finally here—but I wasn’t so sure that was a good thing. If I hadn’t been queen, I would have been thrilled to see the competitions. But I was queen, and the Regalia was my most important test to date.
More eyes would be on Bellona—on me—than ever before. Royals, nobles, merchants, and wealthy citizens from the other kingdoms would all be watching, waiting to see what mistakes I made, and if I was strong enough to survive those mistakes. They would study my every word, smile, and gesture, silently judging me the whole time, as they decided whether or not to align with me and do business with Bellona.
Nervous butterflies flapped in my chest, but I swatted them away. Nerves were one of the many things that a queen couldn’t afford to indulge in.
Several guards moved along the ridgeline, thrusting tall flags into the ground to formally mark this as the Bellonan camp, as was the tradition on the Regalia’s opening morning. The flags would stand here for the next three days until the Games ended and we returned home to Svalin.
Or until I was killed, whichever came first.
Most of the flags featured my midnight-blue crown-of-shards crest on a light gray background, but a few other symbols were mixed in as well. One flag featured Serilda’s crest—a black swan with a blue tearstone eye and beak on a white background—while another featured a snarling green ogre face with gold eyes on a gold background that was Xenia’s crest.
Xenia was staying here in the Bellonan camp, but she was a cousin to the Ungerian queen and would also be advising her other majesty during the Regalia. I eyed my friend, but her face was calm, although the ogre on her neck had its amber eyes narrowed and lips puckered in thought. I wasn’t quite sure how Xenia would divide her duties—and especially her loyalties—during the Games, but if anyone could dance to the tune of two mistresses, it was her.
The guards finished with the flags, bowed to me, and stepped back. I nodded my thanks, then looked out over the harbor again.
“I don’t like this,” Captain Auster muttered, breaking the silence. “I don’t like this one bit. I never have.”
“Why not?” I asked. “You’ve been to the Regalia several times.”
He shook his head. “And I always worry about my queen being assassinated here, more so than at any other place, especially with all the other royals and their guards lurking around. And I am especially wary of this Regalia, given everything that’s happened over the past year.”
Auster was right. I would have even fewer friends on Fortuna Island than I did at Seven Spire, and I had to be prepared for anything. Someone always wanted to kill the queen, even here, during this time of celebration, competition, and supposed goodwill between the kingdoms.
Oh, yes. I would most likely have to deal with assassins during the Regalia. But I had my own plans to kill the king, so I focused on the opposite side of the river—on Morta.
A similar ridge jutted up from the landscape there, but no flags lined the edge, and no tents dotted the flat, grassy plateau in the distance.
“Any sign of the Mortans?” I asked.
“No,” Cho replied. “They haven’t arrived yet.”
“They’re cutting it a bit close, aren’t they?” Sullivan asked. “The Games start in less than three hours.”
“Well, I can’t kill the king if he’s not bloody here,” I growled.
Before we’d left Seven Spire, I had told everyone my determination to go on the offensive and assassinate the king during the Games before he could do the same to me. They had all offered their support, especially Paloma, who had volunteered to use her mace to bash in his skull, just like Serilda had predicted.
I wasn’t going to let my friend do something so risky, but we had come up with several potential plans to kill the king. Still, all our plotting would be for nothing if he didn’t actually attend the Regalia.