Crush the King (Crown of Shards #3)(57)
Paloma noticed me eyeing the furnishings. “The DiLucris really like their crest, don’t they?” she murmured. “Well, I think it’s creepy. That poor woman seems like she’s screaming and pleading with the gods to free her, only no one can hear her cries due to all that suffocating gold.” She shuddered, and the ogre on her neck scrunched up its face in displeasure.
We walked on and eventually reached the grand ballroom. The large rectangular area was made of the same glowing white stone as the rest of the castle, although the ceiling was a round dome with milky panes of glass held together with thick golden seams. Banners featuring the royal crests of each one of the seven kingdoms dangled from the second-floor balcony that wrapped around the ballroom, while a single, much larger white banner bearing the DiLucris’ gold coined woman dropped down from the crystal chandelier in the center of the ceiling.
A faint, steady tinkle-tinkle-tinkle caught my ear, and I noticed a white stone fountain in the corner. This fountain was a smaller version of the one in front of the Mint, and it also featured a golden statute of Lady Fortuna with her arms held upward. Only instead of water, gold coins spewed out of the woman’s lips, as well as dripped out of her eyes like tears. And not just Fortunan coins. I spotted dragon-stamped Ryusaman coins, as well as those bearing Ungerian ogres, Andvarian gargoyles, Mortan strixes, and Bellonan swords.
Tinkle-tinkle-tinkle. The incessant sound of all those coins softly clattering together made me shiver. I’d never thought that was a particularly sinister sound until right now.
My friends and I must have been among the last to arrive, because hundreds of people had already filled the ballroom. Some wandered along the buffet tables, picking and choosing various delicacies, while others stood in small groups, sipping champagne and other spirits while they gossiped. Servants moved around, fetching whatever was required, while guards stood along the edges of the room.
It was easy to pick the other royals out of the crowd, given the clusters of people hovering around them. My gaze moved from one royal and entourage to the next. Eon, Ruri, Cisco, Heinrich, Zariza. All the other kings and queens had already arrived—except for Maximus.
The Mortan king wasn’t here, and neither were Mercer, Nox, or Maeven. Maximus must be waiting to make a grand entrance just like he had in the arena. I wondered if he would plow one of his strixes down through the glass ceiling and land in the center of the ballroom. Probably, given his enormous ego.
“So, highness,” Sullivan murmured. “Who do you want to attack first?”
I scanned the ballroom. “Well, since the Mortans aren’t here yet, let’s go visit our esteemed host.”
Sullivan grinned, and we headed in that direction.
Driscol DiLucri was holding court in the center of the ballroom. He was wearing a short white jacket over a white tunic and sandy brown leggings and boots, just as he had been earlier, although these garments featured even more gold thread and buttons. Driscol was talking loudly and gesturing wildly with a glass of champagne, telling some story.
Seraphine was standing beside him, also holding a glass of champagne, and looking vaguely bored. A long white gown flowed around her body like watery silk, and her only jewelry was the same choker of gold coins that she’d worn to the opening ceremonies. Her simple, understated elegance made her look as regal as a queen standing next to her garish jester of a brother.
Driscol spied me heading toward them. He froze for a moment right in the middle of his story, then finished it with a rush of words and a weak laugh. He whispered something to Seraphine, who shrugged. She seemed as unimpressed by my arrival as she was by everything else.
At my appearance, murmurs rippled through the crowd, and the nobles standing around Driscol fell back, although they watched us with great interest.
“Queen Everleigh,” Driscol said. “I didn’t expect you to attend the ball, given the . . . unpleasantness in the plaza earlier.”
I gave him my brightest, most dazzling smile. “Oh, Driscol. It takes more than a few assassins to stop me from attending a royal ball. I’ve grown rather used to people trying to kill me and my friends. The perils of being queen.” I let out a hearty chuckle, as though I found the whole situation highly amusing.
Driscol glanced at Seraphine, who responded by taking a sip of her champagne. She didn’t offer him any help, so he focused on me again.
“Well, I’m so glad that you could attend.” He waved his hand. “Please, get something to eat, drink, anything you like. The kronekling tournament won’t start for another half hour. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to greet my other guests.”
Driscol gave me a tight smile, then hurried away, with Seraphine gliding along behind him.
“Spread out and see what gossip you can pick up about the attack,” I murmured to my friends. “I’m going to speak to the other royals.”
Being queen was about far more than just plotting to kill your enemies. I had come to the Regalia with a three-pronged attack in mind to accomplish three separate things: crush the king, advance Bellona’s fortunes, and manipulate Maeven. The first part of my strategy might be focused on assassinating Maximus, but the second part—showing strength and cleverness and securing alliances with the other royals—was equally important and what I needed to concentrate on tonight.
Paloma, Serilda, Cho, and Auster all headed off in different directions, but Sullivan stayed by my side and offered me his arm again.