Crush the King (Crown of Shards #3)(98)

Paloma was Xenia’s granddaughter.

As soon as the thought occurred to me, I realized it had to be true. There were just too many coincidences in their family histories, including how Paloma’s mother and Xenia’s daughter had both vanished without a trace. Plus, Zariza had said that Paloma reminded her of Amira, and I’d noticed myself how similar Paloma’s morph mark was to Xenia’s. But there was only one way to be sure, and that was to tell both my friends my suspicions.

“Is something wrong?” Paloma asked. “You have a really strange look on your face.”

“I need to tell you something.” I sucked in a breath. “It’s about—”

“Paloma! Congratulations! I knew you could do it!” Auster stepped forward.

“Of course she did it,” Xenia said, coming up to them. “She’s an ogre morph.”

Her voice had the same matter-of-fact tone that Paloma’s always did, and the ogre on her neck grinned at the one on Paloma’s throat. Golden amber eyes, bronze skin, razor-sharp teeth. The two morph marks were almost identical, except for the coppery hair that curled around the one on Xenia’s neck, versus the blond hair on Paloma’s mark. But the resemblance between them, as well as Xenia and Paloma themselves, became more and more obvious the longer I looked at all four of them.

I opened my mouth again, but Serilda and Sullivan came forward, also congratulating Paloma.

Seeing the wide grin on Paloma’s face, as well as the one of her inner ogre, made me bite back my words. My friend had just won the biggest bout of her life, and I would let her fully enjoy her victory with no worries or distractions. I would tell her my suspicions later, when she was out of the spotlight and had more time to process them.

“Evie? Are you crying?” Cho asked, walking over to me.

Serilda had given him one of the bags of cornucopia she had bought, and he popped a cluster into his mouth and crunched down on it. Cho sighed with happiness.

I wiped the tears out of the corners of my eyes. “Just a little bit.”

He frowned. “Why? Paloma won. You should be smiling and laughing, not crying.”

“Don’t worry. These are happy tears.”

And they were happy tears—not only for Paloma’s victory, but for the secret I planned on telling her and the gift I hoped it would be for both her and Xenia.

Cho held out his bag to me. “Well, if you really want to be happy, then you should have some cornucopia. It always makes me feel better.” He winked at me.

I laughed and popped a cluster into my mouth. He was right. It did make me feel a little better.

*

We stayed in the arena celebrating Paloma’s victory for the next half hour. We would have stayed even longer, but my friends and I had to get ready for tonight’s ball. So we all congratulated Paloma a final time, then left the arena together.

To the casual observer, we probably appeared happy and relaxed as we crossed the plaza, walked down the steps, and made our way back to the waterfront. But everyone kept their hands on their weapons, and we all kept glancing around, searching for danger.

Auster was right. I had enraged Maximus, and he could strike out again at any time. But no assassins rushed out of the crowd to try to kill us, and we made it back to the Perseverance Bridge without incident.

Auster stopped and spoke to the guards at the end of the bridge. “Any problems? Has anyone unusual or suspicious gone over to the Bellonan side of the river?”

One of the guards shook his head. “No, sir. Just folks celebrating Paloma’s victory.”

He grinned at her, and a faint blush stained my friend’s cheeks. She might be a Black Swan gladiator, but winning the Tournament of Champions came with a whole new level of attention, and people had been calling out, grinning, and waving at her during our trek across the island.

Auster questioned that guard and the others, but they hadn’t seen anything out of the ordinary, other than the raucous celebrations from the Bellonans. So we stepped onto the bridge and headed back to camp.

The others relaxed a bit, thinking we were more or less safe now that we were off the island, but I kept glancing around, more and more cold dread trickling through my body.

I felt like we were being watched. At least, more so than usual. Everyone was always watching me, and now they were watching Paloma too. Still, my unease grew stronger and stronger the farther we walked along the bridge.

“Something wrong, highness?” Sullivan asked. “You’ve gone quiet.”

I shook my head. “Just tired, I guess.”

We were about halfway across the bridge when the hot, caustic stench of magic filled my nose. And not just a little magic—far more magic than I had sensed during the Regalia so far, even among the strixes and the caladrius in the Mortan camp.

I stopped in the center of the bridge and looked around, searching for the source of the magic and all the danger it represented. No one used that much magic unless they were trying to kill someone else, and I was betting that the person they wanted dead was me.

The Mortans were definitely here—but where?

I glanced around, but they weren’t on the bridge ahead of us, and they weren’t rushing up behind us either. I even craned my neck up, searching the sky, but I didn’t see anyone riding a strix.

“Where are they?” I said, still looking around. “Where the fuck are they?”