Conquer the Kingdom by Jennifer Estep

I grabbed the ledger, and Reiko and I returned to the top deck.

Grimley and Lyra were now both perched on the ship’s railing and keeping a watch on the injured pirates, many of whom were still moaning with pain. A few feet away, Captain Davies was sitting on his ass in the middle of the deck, with Leonidas looming over him like an angry storm cloud threatening to wreak havoc on the landscape below.

I tossed the ledger down on the deck next to Davies, who flinched at the loud, accusing thump.

“I’m going to ask you some questions. Answer them honestly, and I’ll let you and what’s left of your crew live.”

The captain gave me a wary look. “And if I don’t?”

I jerked my thumb over my shoulder at Grimley. “Then I’ll let the gargoyle gnaw on your bones.”

Grimley growled and raked his talons across the railing, playing his part to perfection. Davies’s eyes widened, but he didn’t start blubbering up information, so I looked over at Leonidas.

“Or perhaps I’ll let the strix have a turn with the good captain. Does Lyra like to eat humans?”

A sly grin spread across Leonidas’s face. “Oh, Lyra loves to feast on humans. She snaps their fingers off one by one with her beak, like they’re little worms she’s snatching up out of the dirt. She also likes to pluck people’s eyes out of their heads and gobble them down like grapes.”

Lyra let out a loud, fierce caw! and stretched her wings out wide, also playing her part to perfection.

Davies’s face paled even more. He glanced back and forth between Grimley and Lyra, eyes wide, clearly terrified of each creature and the gruesome ways they could kill him. After a few seconds, the captain ducked his head, as though wishing he were a ghost who could melt right down through the deck.

“What—what do you want to know?” he stammered, his voice far less arrogant and hostile than before.

I reached into my cloak pocket and pulled out a flyer that featured Milo’s likeness, along with his name and the reward being offered for his capture or death. “Have you seen this man?”

Davies peered at the paper, then shook his head. “No, I haven’t seen him. I swear. Like I told you before, no . . . Mortan noble has approached me about anything.”

Suspicion filled me, and Reiko and Leonidas both tilted their heads to the side. They too had noticed the captain’s hesitation.

“But someone has approached you about something,” I said.

Davies wet his lips, his gaze flicking between Grimley and Lyra again. “Yes. A man boarded The Drowned Man yesterday morning, right after we docked. He claimed to have heard some gossip about a couple of folks who planned to stow away on my ship to get a free ride to Fortuna Island.”

“And what did you tell him?”

Davies shrugged. “That I would treat those folks the same way I do all stowaways—either kill them or sell them to the DiLucris. He laughed and said either one was fine with him.”

Reiko, Leonidas, and I all exchanged glances. Then I reached into my cloak pocket and pulled out another flyer, this one featuring Captain Wexel’s likeness.

“Was it this man?”

Davies took one look at the flyer and started nodding. “Yes! Yes! That’s him!”

“Did you see where he went? Did he get on another ship?”

“No idea,” Davies replied. “He was only on board for a few minutes. Besides, I had too many passengers to unload to worry about some stranger.”

Frustration shot through me, and I started pacing back and forth. Wexel had been here—right bloody here—on this very deck less than twenty-four hours ago, but once again, he had slipped away before we had even arrived.

I stopped pacing and had started to ask Davies another question when the image of all those hammocks in the cargo hold filled my mind, along with the gold coin Reiko had found. “What kind of passengers? From where?”

The captain shrugged. “Gladiators, from the looks of them. From Fortuna Island. This is the fifth load of them I’ve hauled up the river in the last few weeks. Going to the Sword and Shield Tournament in Glitnir like everyone else.” He wet his lips again and jerked his head at the flyers in my hand. “Who are those people?”

“Dead men walking,” I growled.

Davies ducked his head again, as if he suddenly feared me as much as he did Grimley and Lyra. Smart man.

I reached out with my magic and skimmed his thoughts, but they whipped back and forth like sails in a hurricane, and all I could really sense was his worry that I was going to kill him after all—or, worse, let Grimley and Lyra do it. Images of the gargoyle gnawing on Davies’s bones and the strix pecking out his eyes filled my mind. The captain’s fear was most definitely genuine, which meant his words most likely were too.

“What are you going to do with him?” Reiko asked.

Davies sucked in a breath, and I finally got a clear thought off him. Please don’t kill me, please don’t kill me, please, please, please . . .

I wondered how many innocent men, women, and children had huddled on this deck, thinking the exact same thing when they realized what Davies and his crew had planned for them. Rage crackled like lightning inside my chest, and my fingers itched with the urge to toss Davies into the main mast and snap his bloody spine, and then do the same thing to the remaining pirates. But that would be far too merciful a death for these bastards.

“The royal guards can deal with the captain and his crew,” I replied. “It’s only fair that Davies and his men wind up in shackles—before they’re hanged.”

The captain started to protest, but I stared him down, and he wisely shut his mouth.

Reiko nodded. “I’ll summon the dockmaster.”

She walked down the gangplank. Grimley and Lyra flapped their wings and took off to do some hunting, while Leonidas kept an eye on Davies, as well as the injured pirates.

I stalked over to the railing. Down below, the river churned and churned, and the slap-slap-slap of the waves up against the hull matched the anger and frustration pounding in my heart.

Milo Morricone had escaped yet again. Even worse, I had no idea where he had gone—or what horrible thing he might do next.

*  *  *

A few minutes later, Reiko returned with the dockmaster. I explained who I was and what Davies and his men had tried to do to Reiko and me. The dockmaster’s eyes bulged with surprise, but she summoned some royal guards, and Davies and the surviving pirates were clapped in chains and dragged off to the city prison.

Reiko, Leonidas, and I left The Drowned Man and walked along the riverfront. By this point, the sun was up, and people were starting their daily work and chores. We showed the flyers of Milo and Wexel to sailors, fishermen, and other folks, but no one remembered seeing the two men.

When it became apparent the Mortans were gone and we were wasting our time, the three of us left the riverfront and ducked into a nearby alley.

Lyra . . .

Grimley . . .

Leonidas and I called out to the creatures. A few minutes later, Lyra landed in the alley, followed by Grimley, along with another gargoyle.

This gargoyle was a bit smaller than Grimley, since she wasn’t quite fully grown like he was, and her stone skin was a lighter gray and ribboned with tiny veins of jade green. Her eyes were the same bright green, and her mouth split into a smile at the sight of us.

Fern bounded over to Reiko and nuzzled up against her legs. “Lady Reiko! Did you have a good time battling pirates? Are you ready to fly home?”

Reiko grimaced at the word fly, but she scratched Fern’s head in between her two horns, as many gargoyles liked. Fern’s tail thump-thump-thumped against the flagstones in a quick, happy rhythm, making chips of stone zip through the air.

Reiko looked at me. “Are you sure we can’t take the train back to Glanzen?”

Leonidas frowned in confusion. “Why would you take a train when you can fly?”

I slung my arm around the dragon morph’s shoulders. “Oh, Reiko is not nearly as fond of flying as we are. Although she will do it for scones, right?”

Reiko shot me a sour look and elbowed me in the side. I hissed and rubbed my ribs. Leonidas chuckled at us, then strode over to Lyra and stroked his hand along her feathers.

“It’s no wonder you and Prince Leo are perfect for each other. You both have your heads in the clouds—literally,” Reiko said.

Longing filled her face, and her inner dragon silently sighed, causing a cloud of smoke to skate across her skin.

I had a good idea what—or rather, whom—she was thinking about. “Have you heard from Kai?”

Reiko crossed her arms over her chest. “No, and I don’t expect to. We said our goodbyes at the Summit.”

Kai Nakamura had attended the Summit as one of the personal guards to Queen Ruri Yamato of Ryusama, although he was much better known for being a ferocious gladiator and the winner of last year’s Tournament of Champions during the Regalia Games. Reiko used to be a gladiator too, and the two of them had been in the same troupe, the Crimson Dragons. Not only had Kai and Reiko competed against each other in the gladiatorial ring, but they had also butted heads at every turn—until they’d had a passionate encounter during the Regalia Games.

The last time I’d seen the two dragon morphs at the Summit, Kai had been trying to convince Reiko to give their relationship a real chance, although I didn’t know if he’d succeeded. Reiko Yamato excelled at ferreting out other people’s secrets, but she was stubbornly reluctant about sharing her own, no matter how many times I told her that I was happy to listen, if she ever wanted to talk.

Reiko dropped her arms to her sides. “You’re right about one thing, though.”

“What?”

“The sooner we get back to the capital, the sooner I can have those scones.” She grinned, but sadness washed off her and pinched my own heart tight. Despite her light tone and cheerful words, Reiko was missing Kai far more than she would ever admit.

Reiko climbed onto Fern’s back, while I did the same thing to Grimley, and Leonidas mounted Lyra. Then, with a whisper of wings, we all took off.

I tilted my face into the chilly November breeze. In, out, in, out. The more slow, controlled, steady breaths I took, the smaller my problems became, just like the boats, crates, and people along the riverfront shrank the higher into the air Grimley climbed. Oh, I was still deeply concerned about where Milo and Wexel were and especially what they were plotting, but flying always made my worries a little lighter and easier to bear, at least while I was soaring through the sky.

Grimley moved away from Allentown and flew north, following the Summanus River, which snaked through the forested landscape like a dull blue-gray thread embedded in a speckled brown and green carpet. Fern and Reiko were off to my right, while Leonidas and Lyra were off to my left.

Reiko didn’t like flying—the dragon morph always claimed she was a mere gust of wind away from losing her seat on Fern’s back and plummeting to her death—but Leonidas loved it as much as I did.

He grinned, and his voice filled my mind. Race you?

I returned his grin with an even wider one. Only if you and Lyra want to lose again.

I heard that.This time, the strix’s voice sounded in my mind. And I did not lose. Your rocks-for-brains gargoyle cheated.

Grimley snorted. It’s not cheating just because I know the Glitnir rooftops better than you do. And it’s certainly not my fault that you clipped a tower with one of your wings and lost precious seconds righting yourself.

Lyra answered him with a loud, annoyed shriek and dove closer to the river. Grimley growled and followed her. The strix pumped her wings, and the gargoyle matched her swift pace. Soon, the two of them were racing across the surface of the water. Cool spray misted over my face, and the wind tangled my hair, making me laugh with delight.

Idiots.Reiko’s thought floated through my mind. All four of them are idiots who are going to get themselves killed.

For once, she was wrong, and we didn’t hurt ourselves, although there was no clear winner in the race, since Lyra and Grimley both had to swerve to the side to avoid a steamboat that was slowly chugging up the river.

We flew for about an hour, although it seemed much shorter than that, given how much I enjoyed the journey. The forested landscape gave way to thinner woods, then farms surrounded by rolling hills. Faint trails turned into dirt paths and then into cobblestone streets. Clusters of homes popped up here and there, along with plazas lined with shops. Eventually, the streets, homes, shops, and plazas all ran together, stretching out as far as I could see and forming an enormous city nestled in the Spire Mountains—Glanzen, the capital of Andvari.

Grimley tucked his wings into his sides and dropped down, skimming over the rooftops the same way he had above the river earlier. Lyra and Fern followed his lead.

At our approach, several guards manning one of the city walls snapped to attention and raised their crossbows, although they relaxed when they recognized Grimley and me. I waved to the guards, who returned the gesture.

Over the last few weeks, Grandfather Heinrich had greatly increased the number of guards stationed along the city’s borders, and everyone in Glanzen had been told to keep a wary eye on the sky and watch out for large groups of strixes. Everyone knew about Milo Morricone’s attempt to assassinate Crown Prince Dominic Ripley and the other royals during the Summit, although we’d managed to keep the threat of his tearstone arrows under wraps—for now. But it was only a matter of time before Milo tried to implement his ultimate plan, whatever it was, and we wanted everyone to be prepared for trouble.

We left the outskirts of the city behind and headed for Glitnir, the royal palace that was the gleaming heart of Glanzen. Pinpricks of blue, purple, green, red, and white sparked in the distance, growing larger and brighter as we neared the palace, like flowers opening in the morning sunlight. Eventually, the sparks and colors solidified into faceted sapphires, amethysts, emeralds, rubies, and diamonds, which were arranged in mosaic patterns that complemented the opalescent sheen of the pale grayish marble walls. Hammered ribbons of gold, silver, and bronze also snaked up the steps, outlined the windows, and curved over the archways, making the palace look like an opulent wedding cake strung with precious gems and metals instead of spun sugar and fluffy icing.

Since it was midmorning, most of the gargoyles had flown out into the surrounding countryside to hunt, but a few were lounging on the palace rooftops, soaking up the sun. As we flew by, the gargoyles lifted their heads and called out welcoming cries. Lucky, Boodle, Pansy, Iris . . . All the creatures had names, either ones I had given them or ones they had chosen for themselves.

Grimley answered their gravelly grumbles with ones of his own, as did Fern. Lyra also let out a few caws, although the other gargoyles didn’t respond. They still weren’t used to having a strix in their midst, and most of them gave the other creature a wide berth.

Grimley sailed down and landed on a terrace. I slid off his back, while Reiko dismounted Fern, and Leonidas did the same thing with Lyra.

“You’re getting better at flying,” I teased Reiko. “Your face isn’t nearly as green as it was when we landed in Allentown.”

She scowled and made a rude hand gesture. I laughed, as did Leonidas.

Grimley, Fern, and Lyra flapped their wings and took off to do some hunting, while Reiko, Leonidas, and I headed inside the palace to get cleaned up and prepare for our next mission of the day. Bounty Hunter Gemma might have failed miserably this morning, but perhaps Princess Gemma would have better luck.

Thirty minutes later, we met in the hallway outside my chambers. Reiko had donned a fresh tunic, while Leonidas was sporting a clean riding coat. I was now clad in a gray gown covered with dark blue thread that had been stitched to resemble frost pansies blooming all over me.

“You look lovely,” Leonidas said.

I huffed. “I look like I rolled around in a flowerbed.”

He grinned. “That too.”

Leonidas offered me his arm, and we strolled through the palace, with Reiko striding along beside us.

Plenty of precious metals and gems adorned the exterior palace walls, but the interior corridors resembled a life-size jewelry box, and something glittered and gleamed around every corner. Fluorestone chandeliers studded with white, gray, and black diamonds blazed with light, while opals, topazes, and other gemstones were set into many of the furnishings, glimmering like stars embedded in the dark wooden chairs, tables, and bookcases.

Servants and palace stewards dressed in dark gray tunics hurried to do chores and check on things, while guards stood in the corners, their hands on their swords. Everyone nodded as we walked by, and I returned the gestures, once again playing the part of Princess Gemma.

We stepped through some open glass doors and entered the Edelstein Gardens, which lay in the center of Glitnir. The Edelstein Gardens were famous for their mix of real, live trees, flowers, and other plants, along with those made of gold, silver, and sparkling jewels. The gardens were one of my favorite places in the entire palace, although right now, the shimmering branches, colorful blossoms, and soft floral perfumes did little to improve my mood. Once again, I had left home to hunt down Milo, and once again, I had failed to return with his head.

Leonidas, Reiko, and I left the trees and flowers behind and stepped into the hedge maze that was the gardens’ main feature. The maze was always shaped like a snarling gargoyle face—the Ripley royal crest—although the plant masters came up with new twists and turns every year.

I led my friends to the gargoyle’s nose, which served as the center of the maze. The hedges fell away, revealing an enormous open space that featured a wide, grassy lawn, a pond filled with water lilies, and a lovely gazebo. It was a beautiful place to enjoy a late fall morning—or a garden party, in this case.

Dozens of nobles, merchants, and guilders milled around, sipping warm apple cider and gossiping in their usual cliques. Even though today’s garden party wasn’t a formal occasion, most folks were still decked out in colorful gowns and jackets that made them look like oversize hummingbirds flitting around the lawn.

As per tradition, Grandfather Heinrich always hosted a gathering for the Glitnir court the day before any major gladiator competition was held in Glanzen. This year, it was our city’s turn to host the Sword and Shield Tournament, the final event of the season, which would decide the best individual gladiator in Buchovia, as well as the top overall troupe. A larger, more formal breakfast would be held tomorrow to welcome all the tournament competitors to Glanzen.

Several tables boasting platters of fresh fruits, cheeses, and sweet cakes had been spaced around the lawn, along with smaller tables and cushioned chairs where guests could sit, relax, and enjoy the refreshments. Ice sculptures shaped like swords, shields, and gargoyles glimmered like cold diamonds on stone pedestals that had been positioned all around the gazebo.

Gray ribbons twined through the ebony railing and wound up the white marble columns that supported the gazebo, giving the structure a fun, festive air. Even the silver gargoyle faces embedded in the columns seemed to grin, while their jeweled eyes continuously winked their approval.

But the longer I stared at the sculptures, the more color bloomed in the ice, turning the clear, frosty figures a dark, bloody red. The gazebo flickered, and the sculptures and ribbons vanished, along with the bright sunlight.

Suddenly, I was seeing the structure as it had been some sixteen years ago, the night Dahlia Sullivan, my grandfather’s mistress, and other members of the Bastard Brigade, a group of bastard-born Morricones, had tried to murder Queen Everleigh Blair.

The nobles, merchants, and guilders disappeared, replaced by cloaked assassins clutching swords who were creeping closer and closer to the gazebo. My heart galloped up into my throat, and a sharp tang of fear filled my mouth. The assassins were going to kill Evie before I could reach her—

“Gemma?” Leonidas’s voice broke into my memories. “Are you okay?”

I blinked. The assassins disappeared, the sunlight returned, and the blood dribbled out of the ice sculptures. My heart was still stuck in my throat, but I swallowed it down. “I’m fine.”

“Mmm.” Leonidas’s noncommittal reply indicated he didn’t believe my lie.

“Well, I see a platter of apple-cinnamon scones that are demanding to be eaten,” Reiko announced. “You two have fun making nice with the nobles.”

I shot her a sour look, but Reiko laughed and moved away.

A sigh escaped my lips. “As much as I hate to admit it, she’s right. We should make the rounds.”

“Well, then, let me escort Princess Gemma through her throngs of admirers,” Leonidas murmured, and offered me his arm again.

Together, we ambled across the lawn. Audible whispers surged through the crowd at my walking arm in arm with Leonidas, and even more silent thoughts buzzed in my ears.

Prince Leonidas is handsome—for a Mortan . . .

Look at the two of them strolling along as though they aren’t both traitors to their kingdoms . . .

I still can’t believe that Gemma Ripley is fucking a Morricone. What a bloody disgrace to Andvari . . .

Rage erupted in my heart, burning even hotter than a Vacunan volcano. I whirled around. As soon as I figured out the source of that horrid thought, I was going to give that person a piece of my mind—

“Forget it, Gemma,” Leonidas murmured. “They’re not worthy of your time or attention, much less your anger.”

I grimaced, knowing he had also heard the snide thoughts and wishing he hadn’t. “I’m not angry for myself. I’m enraged for you. Because you are smart and thoughtful and kind and generous, if only they would bother to look past their petty prejudices and see you—the real you.”

Leonidas smiled, but it was a sad, resigned expression. “Some people will never see me as anything other than a Morricone, than Maeven’s son, especially here in Andvari.” He shrugged. “I don’t blame your people for their mistrust. My mother hasn’t exactly endeared herself to Andvarians or anyone else during her reign.”

No, no, she had not. Maeven Morricone was one of the most notorious queens, well, ever. She was most famous—some would argue infamous—for murdering her brother Maximus during the Regalia Games sixteen years ago so that she could seize the Mortan throne. But that was hardly her first or only crime. Maeven had also tried to start a war between Andvari and Bellona by orchestrating the Seven Spire massacre, and she had hatched myriad other schemes, some successful, some not, against all the kingdoms on the Buchovian continent.

“Come,” Leonidas said. “We should greet your family.”

We strolled over to an open section of the lawn, close to the cattails that lined one side of the rippling pond. Through the throngs of people, I spotted a seventy-something man with blue eyes, tan skin, and wavy hair that was more silver than dark brown. King Heinrich Aldric Magnus Ripley had finally gotten over a cough that had been bothering him for the past several weeks, and he looked as fit and hearty as ever. Grandfather Heinrich was holding up a jar of honey, showing off the sweet rewards of his beekeeping hobby.

A few feet away, Crown Prince Dominic Heinrich Ferdinand Ripley was sipping cider and nodding at something a merchant was saying. My father had the same tan skin and blue eyes as Grandfather Heinrich, although his hair was still more dark brown than silver, since he was in his fifties.

Rhea Hans, my forty-something stepmother, stood nearby, talking to a noble lady. Her ebony skin gleamed in the sunlight, as did her topaz eyes and the gray crystal pins that held her black hair back from her face. Rhea’s hand rested on the hilt of the sword belted to her waist, and her gaze continually scanned the lawn. Rhea was the captain of the royal guard, and she had been on high alert ever since we had first learned of Milo’s plot against Andvari.

Leonidas and I stopped, not wanting to interrupt their conversations, and I studied all the nobles, merchants, and guilders gathered on the lawn. I might have swallowed my earlier rage, but I still wanted my people to give Leonidas a chance. If they were too stubborn to realize how wonderful he was on their own, then I would have to arrange some other, more pointed form of enlightenment.

My gaze snagged on a sixty-something lord standing by himself and staring down at the ground beside the front entrance to the gazebo. He was short and slender, with silver-rimmed glasses, dark brown eyes and skin, and iron-gray hair and a matching mustache. A gold oak tree dripping with gold acorns was stitched on his green tunic right over his heart. Instead of a sword or dagger, a small pair of pruning shears dangled from his belt, along with a large pouch.

A smile lifted my lips. Oh, yes. He would do quite nicely.

“Come,” I told Leonidas. “There’s someone I want you to meet.”

Lord Eichen turned at the sound of our feet scuffing through the grass. “Your Highness. Prince Leonidas.” He greeted me warmly, although his voice turned noticeably cooler when he said Leonidas’s name.

I tipped my head to him. “Lord Eichen. I’m so glad you could attend the garden party. It’s such a lovely fall day. The good weather is supposed to last through the entire Sword and Shield Tournament.”

Eichen smiled at me, although his gaze kept skittering over to Leonidas. The prince’s face was calm and blank, but his arm was as stiff as a board under my fingers, and tension radiated off his body.

I hadn’t expected things to be easy for Leonidas at Glitnir, but I had severely underestimated just how difficult they would be. The nobles, merchants, and guilders either openly shunned him or made snide comments behind his back, as did the palace stewards, servants, and guards. That obvious hostility was bad enough, but with his mind magier magic, Leonidas could hear their vicious thoughts just as clearly and easily as I could.

He never reacted to any of the audible insults or silent mockery, although at times like these, I could tell just how much they bothered him. My heart ached for him, even as my rage boiled up again. People were wrong, petty, and cruel to judge the Morricone prince based solely on his family name and who his mother and brother were. But Andvarians and Mortans were much like gargoyles and strixes: constantly fighting. And the two peoples preferred to embrace old prejudices rather than try to get along.

Determination flared inside me. Well, I was going to do my best to change that.

I gestured at Leonidas. “Lord Eichen, let me formally introduce Prince Leonidas Morricone. He is visiting Glitnir as part of an effort to improve relations with Morta.”

That was the official story for Leonidas being at the palace, although everyone knew we were involved. In recent days, I’d heard more than one hushed whisper and silent speculation about whether I would be bold enough to actually marry Leonidas—and what Grandfather Heinrich, Father, and Rhea would think of such a union.

Those comments were as kind as kittens compared to the callous quips about us fucking.

People probably thought they were being daring, bold, or shocking by discussing my personal relationships, but sadly, I’d grown used to it over the years. All I had to do was dance with a man at a ball, and people assumed we were fucking. Or if I had a private tea with a noble lady. Or if I asked a servant to bring something to my chambers. Despite the hundreds, thousands of innocent ways I could interact with someone, the conclusion was always the same: I was fucking that person.

The gossip, comments, and speculation had never particularly bothered me before, but now they cut me like razors scraping across my skin. Because what I felt for Leonidas went so far beyond anything I had ever imagined possible. I loved him with all my heart, mind, and magic, and I would do anything for him, including making his stay at Glitnir a bit more pleasant—or at least getting one noble to see him as more than a Mortan, a Morricone, an enemy.

“Of course,” Eichen murmured, matching my politeness. “Everyone at Glitnir has been buzzing about Prince Leonidas and his . . . unprecedented visit.”

Sadly, unprecedented was among the nicer things people had said and thought about the Morricone prince.

“Lord Eichen,” Leonidas replied, his voice also polite and smooth. “It’s so nice to be formally introduced. Have your grandchildren arrived yet? Gemma has told me about their impressive fighting skills. I’m looking forward to seeing them compete in the Sword and Shield Tournament.”

Eichen’s eyes brightened, his lips lifted, and his shoulders straightened, as though the plant magier had used his magic to make his own body bloom with happiness. The lord was known for his rabid love of gladiator bouts and tournaments, and he’d already been at Glitnir for more than two weeks, overseeing preparations for his grandchildren and their respective gladiator troupes to compete in the tournament.

Eichen opened his mouth to answer Leonidas’s question, but then he remembered whom he was talking to, and the warmth vanished from his features.

The lord cleared his throat. “Thank you for your kind words, Prince Leonidas. I always look forward to seeing my grandchildren compete, especially against the Mortan troupes.”

As far as insults went, his words were rather mild, but they still made me grind my teeth. Eichen was one of the wealthiest and most powerful nobles in Andvari. If I could convince him to accept Leonidas, or at least be civil, then much of the hostility toward the Morricone prince would die down.

And then maybe—just maybe—I could let myself dream of a future with Leonidas beyond the next few days, or weeks, or however long it took us to find Milo.

When it became apparent Eichen wasn’t going to further the conversation, Leonidas turned to me. “I’m rather thirsty. Something to drink, Gemma?”

I recognized his words as the escape they were. “Yes, please. Thank you.”

“Lord Eichen?” Leonidas asked.

Eichen waved his hand, declining a drink, and Leonidas headed over to one of the refreshment tables. The lord watched him go with a curious expression.

“I can see why you are so . . . enamored of Prince Leonidas,” Eichen said. “He is quite handsome. And from what I saw at the Summit, he is an excellent fighter. Killing an arena full of enemies by yourself is no small feat. He could have easily been a gladiator himself, if not for his familial duties.”

I grimaced, even though the lord’s voice was more thoughtful than snide. During the Summit, Maeven had invoked the Gauntlet, an arcane Ungerian tradition that consisted of three challenges, in order to force Leonidas and me to become engaged—and eventually marry. Eichen was referring to the second Gauntlet challenge, where Leonidas had been required to battle a dozen enemies to the death in the gladiator arena at Caldwell Castle.

“Prince Leonidas’s triumph was quite thrilling. One of the best bouts I have ever seen.” Eichen eyed me, but when I didn’t respond, he cleared his throat again. “But enough about that. You saw the fight for yourself. Let us move on to other matters.”

He drew in a breath, then let it out, along with a rush of words. “Did I ever tell you that I once received a letter from Queen Maeven Morricone herself?”

I had braced myself for more benign talk of gladiators, and I blinked at the unexpected change in topic. “Maeven contacted you? When? And why?”

Eichen’s face darkened, and anger surged off him, the emotion strong enough to make my own cheeks burn. “I received the letter about a month after my wife was murdered.”

Sympathy filled me. From all accounts, Lady Odella, Eichen’s wife, had been a lovely woman. She too had been a plant magier. Several years ago, she had been out hunting rare mushrooms when she’d had the bad luck to run into Mortan bandits. The men had killed Odella and left her body to rot in the woods.

Eichen had dearly loved his wife, although he rarely talked about her death, which made me even more curious why he had brought it up now.

“What did Maeven say in her letter?”

He clasped his hands together behind his back. “She apologized for the bandits’ actions.”

“That’s . . . unusual.”

A small, bitter laugh tumbled out of Eichen’s lips. “Oh, yes. Believe me, I was as stunned as you are, but the letter was quite cordial. Queen Maeven said she deeply regretted the pain that had been inflicted on my family, and she assured me the bandits had been dealt with to the fullest extent of Mortan law. She even sent along some proof.”

“What proof?”

He stared at me, his expression ice-cold. “Their heads.”

Surprise shot through me. Not that Maeven wouldn’t do such a thing. Ordering heads to be chopped off and then sending them to people was perfectly in keeping with the queen’s ruthless nature. But why would she care about getting justice for a murdered Andvarian noble?

“I planted the heads around Odella’s grave,” Eichen continued. “They made excellent compost material. Her favorite roses continue to thrive to this day.”

I nodded. “As they should.”

Eichen fell silent, but he didn’t seem angry about Maeven’s gesture, and his mood appeared to be more contemplative than vengeful. Still, I kept thinking about his story—and wondering why he had shared it with me.

“Prince Leonidas hasn’t made the impression at court you hoped he would,” Eichen said.

We both looked over at Leonidas, who was standing alone, sipping a glass of cider. Nobles, merchants, and guilders moved all around the prince, but they pointedly ignored him, as though he was as irrelevant as one of the ice sculptures. Leonidas stared off into the distance, as though he was admiring the gardens’ beauty, but a muscle ticced in his jaw, and his fingers curled around his crystal goblet like he wanted to hurl it at someone.

Once again, my heart ached for him, even as more determination flared inside me. It was time to stop dancing around in this courtly game and ask for what I wanted.

I turned so that I was facing Eichen. “I would consider it a great personal favor if you would extend your friendship to Leonidas.”

His bushy eyebrows shot up on his face. “A personal favor? That is no small thing to offer.”

“There is nothing small about how I feel about Leonidas,” I replied in a soft voice.

“Oh, yes. I can see how much you care about him, and his concern for you is as plain as that Morricone crest on his tunic.”

I ignored the not-so-subtle dig about Leonidas’s family. “So will you help me?”

Eichen shrugged a shoulder, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. “Mine is not the help you need.”

“Modesty does not become you, my lord. We both know how powerful and influential you are. The other nobles follow your lead in a great many matters. Why, gladiators wouldn’t be nearlyas popular as they are in Andvari without your long-standing enthusiasm and patronage.”

Eichen shrugged again, although a sly smile crept across his face. “True. But not even I can overcome centuries of hostility, bloodshed, and prejudice simply by offering my friendship.”

“We must start somewhere,” I replied in a sharp voice. “Lest we all be destroyed by those prejudices.”

Eichen shrugged for a third time. “Perhaps. Or perhaps those prejudices exist for a reason.”

Equal parts frustration and disappointment filled me. He wasn’t going to help, and even worse, he was right. No matter whether they were nobles, servants, or guards, certain Andvarians would never accept Leonidas, no matter what he or I did or how much we cared about each other.

“Although there is one thing I have always liked about Morta,” Eichen said.

“What?” I asked in a wary voice.

He gestured at the ground beside the gazebo. “Liladorn.”

For the first time, I realized what the plant magier had been looking at when Leonidas and I had first approached him—a tangle of black vines with sharp curved thorns that were longer than my fingers.

“Liladorn is such a fascinating plant,” Eichen continued. “Most people, including the Mortans, think it’s nothing more than a noxious weed, but it has a surprising number of uses. Why, I’ve heard some people even make salve and other healing ointments with liladorn.”

My fingers flexed, and the familiar dull aches rippled through my hands. Delmira Morricone, Leonidas’s sister, was one of those people, and the liladorn salve she’d slathered on my whipped back and burned, punctured hands had helped heal the gruesome wounds Milo had inflicted on me at Myrkvior.

“Liladorn is thought to be native to Morta and Morta alone,” Eichen continued. “So I was quite surprised to find it in the Edelstein Gardens. I’ve strolled past this gazebo at least a hundred times over the years, but I don’t recall ever seeing it here before.”

I had never seen it here before either. At least, not around the gazebo, although a few weeks ago, before the Summit, I’d found it in another section of the gardens, curled around a bench with a memorial plaque that honored my mother, Merilde Ripley. Perhaps some of the vines had slithered over here.

We liked Merilde. She planted us everywhere she went. That’s what the liladorn at Caldwell Castle had told me, although I still didn’t know why she had been so interested in the vines.

“My mother must have planted the liladorn,” I said. “She was always bringing flowers, vines, and shrubs back from our travels and adding them to the gardens here. I used to sit in the shade and read books while she would plant them. Those are some of my fondest memories.”

I couldn’t quite keep the longing out of my voice, and sadness splattered all over my heart like a cold rain.

We miss your mother too, a voice whispered in my mind.

I glanced down at the liladorn again. The vines vibrated ever so slightly, then snaked in my direction. I tensed. The liladorn had helped me before, but it had also scratched me more times than I cared to remember. The sentient plant was just as likely to harm as to heal, just like everything else that came out of Morta.

Eichen didn’t notice the liladorn headbutting the toe of my shoe like a cat demanding to have its back scratched. I thought about scooting my foot away from the vines, but that would probably just annoy them and make them lash out at me, so I remained still.

But watching the plant slither around gave me an idea, another way I might convince Eichen to help me. “Would you like some liladorn to take back to your estate? It would make a very lovely and unique addition to Oakton Manor.”

His face brightened again. No plant magier could resist the allure of having something special in their gardens. “Why, yes, it would. I would be honored to accept your offer.”

“I’ll make the arrangements and have a cutting delivered to your chambers.”

Happiness rippled off him, although his wide, genuine smile quickly turned sharp and calculating. “Excellent! Now, please excuse me, Your Highness. Prince Leonidas had the right idea. I suddenly find myself exceptionally thirsty.”

Eichen tipped his head to me, then went over to the refreshment table where Leonidas was still standing and pretending to admire the gardens. The lord got his own cider and engaged Leonidas in conversation. At first, the Morricone prince looked surprised, then wary, although his unease slowly melted away.

“Gladiators . . . My grandchildren . . . Great hopes for the tournament this year . . .” Snippets of Eichen’s words drifted over to me.

The other nobles had taken note of their conversation, and more than a few people wandered over to blatantly eavesdrop. Within minutes, a crowd had gathered around the two men, and Eichen was clapping Leonidas on the shoulder and laughing at something the prince had said.

Eichen was right. One conversation at one party on one day wasn’t nearly enough to change people’s minds and hearts about Leonidas, or the Morricones, or Mortans in general.

But it was a start, no matter how small.

I glanced down at the liladorn still curling around my shoe. I’d seen the power just one strand of the sentient plant could have, and I hoped Eichen reaching out to Leonidas would have the same effect and help us all build a lasting peace between Andvari and Morta—one strand, conversation, and party at a time.