Crush the King (Crown of Shards #3)(68)

Servants stepped forward, offering drinks. Zariza took another apple brandy, while Driscol grabbed a whiskey, but I didn’t get anything to drink. A servant approached Maximus, and I eyed the glasses on her tray. The wormroot poison was still nestled in my dress pocket. Perhaps I could somehow slip it into whatever drink he chose before the next round of the tournament began.

The king waved off the servant, dashing my hopes, then reached inside his jacket, drew out a small glass vial, and popped the cork out of the top.

The vial contained a light gray-blue powder that featured small purple flecks. My nose twitched. I could clearly smell the powder, which contained notes of chalky dust and sweet lavender. I recognized the scents—crushed tearstone mixed with amethyst-eye poison.

The Morricones were known for the strange brews they concocted to dispatch their enemies, and Maximus himself was rumored to be a tinkerer, with a workshop that featured all sorts of deadly and unnatural horrors. But I’d never heard of anyone combining tearstone with a known poison. What was he up to?

Still holding the vial, Maximus turned in his seat and poured the powder into a large gold goblet studded with amethysts that was sitting on the cart. If Maximus was knowingly ingesting amethyst-eye poison, then I doubted the vial of wormroot in my pocket would have much effect on him. I bit back a frustrated curse. Once again, the Mortan king had thwarted my plan to kill him with minimal effort.

Maximus set the empty vial aside and grabbed a gold dagger off the cart. I tensed. What was he going to do with the blade?

Beside me, Zariza tensed as well, while Driscol shifted in his seat, looking uncomfortable, as if he knew exactly what was coming next and didn’t much care for it.

Maximus must have sensed my confusion, because he looked over at me. “Don’t worry, Everleigh. We’ll start playing in a few minutes. Just as soon as I have my nightcap.”

Nightcap? The servants had already offered us drinks, so what was he talking about?

Maximus studied the strix in the cage closest to him. The longer the king stared at the creature, the more the scent of the bird’s fear filled the air. The poor creature seemed to be practically paralyzed with it.

Maximus snapped his fingers. Mercer and Nox were standing beside the cart, and they both stiffened at the sound, as did Maeven, who was lurking a few feet behind them. Maximus snapped his fingers again, and the young servant slowly shuffled forward and opened the cage.

I expected the strix to try to fly away, or at least lash out with its sharp wings, beak, and talons, but Maximus flicked his hand, and purple lightning shot out from his fingertips and zoomed into the cage, stunning the strix.

Several people in the crowd gasped. It was a small, controlled, precise display of magic, and much weaker than the lightning bolts Maximus had shot off in the arena, but I could still sense the pure force in the cold blast. It was another reminder of just how much power he truly had, more power than I had ever sensed from any other magier, including Maeven.

The king waited a moment, making sure that the creature was dazed, then reached into the cage and pulled out the strix as easily as a child grabbing a piece of candy from a dish.

The strix was little more than a baby, and only about the size of a large chicken, so Maximus was able to hold it with one hand. He studied it a moment longer, then set it back down on the silver cart, arranging the creature so that its head dangled off the edge.

Then he lifted the gold dagger in his other hand. I sucked in a ragged breath. Even though I could guess what was coming next, it was still so fucking gruesome that I didn’t quite believe it was happening.

Maximus reached over and quickly, casually slit the strix’s throat.

The poor, dazed creature died without making a sound. Maximus set the dagger on the gaming table, even though it dripped blood all over the gold crowns and silver swords embossed on the wood.

For a moment, nothing happened, and stunned, horrified silence filled the ballroom. Then that young servant grabbed the gold goblet off the cart, stepped forward, and held it down and out so that the strix’s blood drained into it. I could have sworn I heard every single drop hit the side of the goblet.

Plop-plop-plop-plop . . .

The process didn’t take long, no more than a minute. Then, when the steady flow of blood had slowed to a trickle, Maximus waved his hand, and the servant stepped forward and placed the blood-filled goblet on the table in front of the king. That was when I noticed the boy’s black hair and light purple tunic.

Not just a servant—Leonidas.

The boy didn’t look at me or anyone else, but his face was pale, and the scents of ashy heartbreak and dusty resignation rolled off him in wave after wave. He hadn’t liked what his uncle had done any more than I had.

Leonidas stepped back and glanced over at the second cage on the cart. The scents of his heartbreak and resignation increased tenfold, and I realized that the second strix was a much larger creature, one that I had seen before.

Lyra, Leonidas’s strix.

Shock jolted through me, along with sick understanding. This must have been what the boy had wanted to save Lyra from by trying to send her through the Cardea mirror.

Maeven was standing a few feet behind her son, and she moved forward and clamped her hand on Leonidas’s shoulder, as if to remind him that he couldn’t save his beloved strix. I stared at her, wondering how she could let such a horrible thing happen to her own child. For once, she wouldn’t meet my accusing gaze, although I could smell her anger, along with her sharp minty regret.