Crush the King (Crown of Shards #3)(85)
Maeven stepped a little closer, her hands clenching into fists. Magic crackled in her eyes, making them burn a dark, dangerous purple, but she held back her electric rage—for now. “You might be a legitimate royal, but deep down you’re just a scared little girl playing dress-up. The only reason you’re queen is because all the other Blairs are dead. Face it, Everleigh. I made you queen. You didn’t earn that tearstone throne. You didn’t earn anything.”
Icy rage spiked through me, and I stepped closer to her. “You’re right. I’m only queen because everyone else is dead. But so far, I’ve managed to hang on to my kingdom, my crown, and my life, despite all your plots and schemes and bloody assassins. Face it, Maeven. You could send a hundred members of your Bastard Brigade to kill me, and I would slaughter them just like I have all the others.”
“You haven’t managed to kill me yet,” she said in a proud voice.
I shrugged. “Maybe you’re just a little stronger or smarter or luckier than your brethren. I don’t know, and I don’t care, because you don’t fucking matter. Only Maximus does. You said it yourself—he’s the king. You’re just the serving girl who cleans up his messes and takes out his trash. I’m surprised he doesn’t make you empty his chamber pots too.”
More magic sparked in her eyes, and the scent of her hot jalape?o rage blasted through the air. A muscle ticked in her jaw, and I got the sense that she was seconds away from snapping up her hands and blasting me with her magic, Maximus’s plans and orders and everything else be damned.
I could have insulted her again and pushed her over the edge. I could have suckered her into attacking me, then used my immunity to throttle her magic long enough for Serilda to bury her blade in the bitch’s back. Oh, yes, at long last, I could have finally killed Maeven.
But I decided not to.
Because I wasn’t finished playing my long game with her, and it was a game I desperately needed to win for the sake of my kingdom. So, as much as it pained me, I pushed down my own thirst for revenge and thought of how I could best manipulate her into doing what I wanted.
“And here’s something else to think about,” I said in a much calmer voice. “Something your dear brother obviously didn’t tell you about Leonidas’s mission.”
Maeven blinked at the unexpected change in topic, and some of the dangerous magic leaked out of her eyes. “And what would that be?”
“Leonidas wasn’t the only assassin Maximus sent to my tent last night. There were three others. DiLucri geldjagers.”
“So what?”
I paused again, drawing out the moment to give my next words even more impact. “So those other three assassins weren’t there just to murder me. They had orders to kill Leonidas too, if I hadn’t already disposed of him.”
Her eyes widened in surprise, although she quickly schooled her features into a more neutral expression. She shook her head. “No. You’re lying. Maximus would never—”
“Would never what? Send your son to murder me, and then send assassins to kill the boy so he couldn’t tell anyone about his orders?” I laughed. “Please tell me you’re not that na?ve—or stupid.”
Maeven didn’t respond. We both knew she wasn’t that na?ve or stupid, just like we both knew there was nothing she could do about her brother trying to have her son murdered.
“I told you once before that you didn’t have to follow Maximus,” I said in a serious voice, without the mocking tone. “That you could leave Morta, go somewhere else, and start a new life. Maybe it’s finally time for you to do so—for your son’s sake.”
“I don’t have to go anywhere,” Maeven hissed. “Once I finally kill you, all will be forgiven.”
“How many times have you tried to kill me now? Four? Five? I’ve honestly lost count. But what makes you think you can succeed in the future? Face it, Maeven. You are never going to kill me. Not you, and not your Bastard Brigade. And if you can’t kill me, then that makes you useless to Maximus. Or maybe . . .” I let my voice trail off.
“What?” she growled.
“Or maybe Maximus was planning to sacrifice Leonidas all along. Maybe he thought the death of your son at my hands would finally motivate you enough to kill me.”
She didn’t respond, but her scent took on a speculative, smoky aroma, and agreement flickered in her eyes. We both knew Maximus was cruel enough to do something like that.
“What are you planning to do with Leonidas?” she asked. “If you hurt him—”
I laughed, cutting off her threat. “Me? Hurt him? Please. Maximus has already threatened to kill his beloved strix and sent the boy on a suicide mission. There’s hardly any way left for me to torture your son.”
I paused again. “Although I’m sure that I can come up with something. Or perhaps Serilda can. She’s had far more experience at that sort of thing than I have.”
“I’d be happy to help, my queen,” Serilda chimed in, her hand still on her sword.
Maeven shot her an angry glare, but Serilda merely arched an eyebrow in response.
“The more I think about it, the more I realize that Maximus practically handed me your son on a silver platter,” I drawled. “I could torture Leonidas for days, weeks, months, and your precious king wouldn’t lift a finger to save your son, his nephew, his own flesh and blood. That should tell you exactly how much regard Maximus has for you and Leonidas—none at all.”