Crush the King (Crown of Shards #3)(70)
Even if Maximus didn’t kill people to take their magic, there was still a human cost to his cruelty. I looked at Leonidas, who was still standing beside the cart. His hands were clenched into tight fists, and he was staring at the cage that held Lyra as though he wanted to rush forward, free the bird, and run away with her. No doubt he did, knowing what a gruesome fate awaited her before the night was through.
No wonder the boy had tried to get Lyra to hop through the Cardea mirror. He had known that it was the only way to save her from this. At least at Seven Spire, she would have had a chance to escape, and even if she had been killed or captured, no one at my palace would have tried to drink her blood.
The dealer cleared his throat, finally breaking the horrified silence. “It’s time to place the prizes on the table for the final round.”
Driscol went first, and his prize turned out to be a gold chest filled with gold coins, all of which featured the Fortuna Mint’s coined-woman crest. “Ten thousand gold crowns,” he said in a subdued voice.
Extravagant, but not unique or surprising. A murmur rippled through the crowd that was equal parts appreciative and disappointed.
Zariza was next, and she unhooked the gold chain from around her neck and placed the gold ogre pendant with its emerald eyes and diamond and ruby teeth in the center of the table next to Driscol’s chest.
“It’s nothing much,” she declared. “Just a little bauble I had made for the Regalia.”
Laughter rang out, along with loud claps and whistles. The jewels alone in that little bauble were easily worth more than Driscol’s gold.
Now it was my turn, and I opened the blue velvet bag Paloma had given me, tipped the contents into my hand, and laid them out on the glossy wood. Zariza studied the items curiously, although Driscol’s face paled in recognition.
“A bronze pocket watch, a gold pendant, and a silver signet ring?” Maximus said, a sneer creeping into his voice. “I didn’t realize Bellona was so poor these days. You could have at least brought something with some jewels in it.”
Several agreeing murmurs sounded. I ignored them.
“Oh, it’s true that they don’t have nearly as much monetary worth as Driscol’s chest and Zariza’s bauble, but their sentimental value is priceless.” I paused a moment for dramatic effect and tapped my finger on the pocket watch. “This belonged to my tutor Ansel, who poisoned my father with wormroot. He was killed by a weather magier named Marisse outside Winterwind, my family’s estate. Marisse tried to kill me too, but I stabbed her to death with my father’s dagger.”
Surprised gasps rang out. I ignored them and kept going, gesturing at the gold-coin pendant. “This was hanging around the neck of Lena, a geldjager who died just last week.” I stared at Driscol. “Lena and her compatriots foolishly thought that they could come to my capital and threaten my people. They were wrong, and their bodies are currently hanging in a plaza across the river from Seven Spire.”
More surprised gasps sounded. I kept staring at Driscol, whose face got a little redder with each passing second. The scent of his anger grew in direct proportion to the mottled flush staining his cheeks.
Driscol opened his mouth and leaned forward as if to curse me, but Seraphine quickly, smoothly stepped up and laid her hand on his shoulder. For a moment, I thought he was going to shake her off, but she tightened her grip, digging her long white polished nails into his shoulder. Driscol slowly choked down his anger, clamped his lips shut, and leaned back in his chair. Seraphine loosened her grip and glided back into the ring of spectators around the table.
When I was sure that Driscol wasn’t going to interrupt me, I tapped my finger on the silver signet ring. “But out of all my little trinkets, this ring is my favorite because it belongs to one of the people responsible for the Seven Spire massacre. Now, that person isn’t dead yet, but if I have my way, she will be very, very soon, along with her family.”
I glanced at Maximus a moment, then pointedly fixed my gaze on Maeven. Not a flicker of emotion showed on her face at my accusation and threat, but I could smell her hot, peppery anger.
Maximus glanced over his shoulder at his half sister. Maeven’s face remained impassive, but her peppery anger quickly melted into coppery fear. Mercer and Nox sidled away from her, but Leonidas actually shifted closer to Maeven, as if he wanted to shield his mother from Maximus. Brave, stupid boy.
The king faced the table again. “I didn’t realize that Everleigh was going to tell us bedtime stories. How quaint.”
Laughter pealed out all around the ballroom, but I shrugged it off, along with his mocking words. “Not bedtime stories. More like lessons from the past—and promises of things to come.”
The king stared at me, and I looked right back at him. Just like his sister, Maximus didn’t show any visible emotion, but I could smell his anger and annoyance. He didn’t care for my theatrics, even though they were far less digusting than his own.
Maximus might have drunk the strix blood for its power, but he’d also done it to try to intimidate me. I needed to match his viciousness, lest everyone here think me weaker than him. I wasn’t going to slaughter an innocent creature, but I had no qualms about displaying the remains of my dead enemies. The trinkets and my so-called stories were yet another way to remind him and the other royals that they trifled with me—and Bellona—at their own peril.