Conquer the Kingdom by Jennifer Estep

I stayed in Alvis’s workshop another hour, helping with his experiments, but we didn’t find anything that would dampen the power of Milo’s arrows once the tearstone and the dried fool’s bane were triggered with magic. Alvis decided to retire to his chambers for the evening, so I headed to my own suite of rooms, with Otto following along behind me, and Violet riding on his back.

I opened the double doors with a wave of my hand and stepped into a sitting room filled with cushioned chairs and settees, which were arranged around a fireplace that was shaped like the Ripley gargoyle crest. An iron grate stretched across the creature’s wide, open mouth, which formed the actual firebox, while its horns were carved into the stone chimney and stretched all the way to the ceiling. The crackling flames behind the grate made it seem like the gargoyle was perpetually snarling fire and baring its red-hot teeth.

Grimley was stretched out on the rug in front of the fireplace. Violet cheeped with excitement, hopped down off Otto’s back, and raced over to the other gargoyle. Then she stopped and rubbed her head all over his front paws. Violet liked all the gargoyles, including Otto and Fern, but Grimley was her favorite.

“Hello, runt,” Grimley said in an affectionate tone, raising his head to peer at the much smaller creature. “Did you miss me while I was gone?”

“Yes, yes, yes!” Violet replied in her high singsong voice. “Missed you lots!”

The baby strix fluffed out her feathers and settled herself in between Grimley’s front paws. Within seconds, she was fast asleep, with small snores squeaking out of her throat.

Otto rolled his eyes. “That bird has you wrapped around her little talons.”

Grimley snorted. “Please. As if you weren’t letting her ride around on your back like you were her own personal pony while we were gone.”

Otto’s gray eyes narrowed to slits. “That’s different. She can’t fly yet, so she can’t keep up with me any other way.”

Grimley snorted again. “Right. Whatever you say.”

Otto huffed, and his long tail lashed from side to side, as though he wanted to smack Grimley with the arrow on the end. “I will go patrol, princess.”

“Thank you, Otto,” I replied.

The gargoyle huffed again, then trotted over to the balcony doors. I opened one of them, and he leaped up onto the railing, flapped his wings, and shot up into the evening sky.

“Why doesn’t he sleep in here? Or somewhere else inside the palace?” Grimley grumbled. “There is plenty of room, even for a big, annoying brute like him.”

I stared up at Otto, who veered around a tower and vanished from view. “I think it reminds him too much of being trapped in the manor house on Antheia Island, where Milo tortured him.”

A shudder rippled through Grimley’s body. “If that had happened to me, then I wouldn’t want to stay inside much either.”

Grimley laid his head down and went to sleep, with Violet still cradled in between his paws. Soon the two creatures were snoring in unison, with the gargoyle’s deep rumbles punctuated by the strix’s higher trills.

I walked through an open door into an adjoining room that served as my study. An ebony desk squatted near the back of the chamber, while a picture window with a gray cushioned seat offered a sweeping view of the Edelstein Gardens below. A bookcase filled with my favorite storybooks and other childhood mementos stood in a corner, while maps of Andvari, Morta, Bellona, and the other kingdoms hung on the walls.

I wandered over to the bookcase and picked up a silver-framed portrait of my mother that had been painted a few weeks before her death. Dark blond hair, rosy skin, pretty features. Merilde Ripley looked the same as always, although her blue eyes were much dimmer than I remembered, and her smile seemed more weary than genuinely happy. Or perhaps my own worry and exhaustion were coloring my senses tonight.

A tired sigh escaped my lips, and I glanced longingly at the window seat. Right now, I wanted nothing more than to curl up on the cushion and lose myself in a story I knew would have a happy ending. But that wouldn’t help me find Milo, so I placed my mother’s portrait back on the shelf and sat down at my desk.

More than three dozen letters—a relatively light load—were stacked up on a silver tray. During my ambassador travels, I made friends with as many people as possible, then encouraged those folks to write letters to keep me abreast of the goings-on in their parts of Andvari and beyond.

Given how many of my sources had journeyed to Glanzen for the Sword and Shield Tournament, I had expected twice as many missives, along with invitations to teas, luncheons, and the like. Everyone always wanted to meet face-to-face with Princess Gemma whenever they were in the capital. Another tired sigh escaped my lips, but the correspondence wasn’t going to read itself, so I grabbed the first envelope.

Lady Ingrid, a noble from Blauberg, had written three pages detailing everything from the new porcelain teapot and cups she’d received from Ryusama, to the high silk prices at her local marketplace, to her neighbor’s cow, which kept escaping its field and trampling her vegetable garden. Nothing important, and absolutely nothing that would help me track down Milo and Wexel.

I sighed again, set Ingrid’s letter aside, and opened the next one. They were all more of the same. Missives about the weather, the price of goods, and the like, peppered with complaints about neighbors, family members, and other nobles, merchants, and guilders. A few included small gifts, like pretty ribbons, striped seashells, or polished rocks, which warmed my heart, even if they didn’t help further my goals.

An hour later, I was reaching for the last letter when I accidentally knocked the tray off the table, sending it clattering down onto the floor. Frustrated, I rocked back in my chair, tipped my head up, and stared at the ceiling, which featured a carving of Armina Ripley, the first queen of Andvari.

This carving was part of a series that adorned my chamber ceilings. This one showed Armina standing next to her loyal gargoyle Arton, the two of them preparing to fight the Mortans who wanted to enslave Andvari and its gargoyles. The second carving out in the sitting room featured the two of them streaking through the sky, while the third and final carving above my bed showed Armina and Arton engaged in a fierce battle against their enemies.

I had always loved the carvings and the story they told of my ancestor’s and kingdom’s history, but tonight, thinking about Armina and Arton’s triumph was just another reminder of my own failure to find Milo—and my growing worry that I wouldn’t be able to stop him from hurting more gargoyles and people, just like he had hurt Otto and me.

*  *  *

After a few minutes, I roused myself from my brooding, dropped my gaze from the carving, and grabbed the tray from the floor. Then I opened the final letter and read through the contents.

This letter was from Adora, one of Lord Eichen’s granddaughters, who worked as a ringmaster for the Gray Falcons, an extremely successful and popular all-female gladiator troupe. The Gray Falcons had arrived in Glanzen last week, although Adora’s letter had been written earlier today, according to the date at the top.

I’d met Adora a few weeks ago when I’d been visiting Oakton Manor, Eichen’s estate near the Mortan border. Some of the Gray Falcon gladiators had performed during a luncheon, and I’d struck up a conversation with Adora afterward. Her sly wit and strong leadership had impressed me, and we had been exchanging letters ever since.

The ringmaster wrote about how excited she was to present her troupe at the palace, as well as compete in the Sword and Shield Tournament. Everything was perfectly ordinary, although a paragraph near the bottom of the letter caught my eye.

Several new troupes have arrived in Glanzen to participate in the tournament. Some of the troupes are just the same old gladiators with new names, crests, and colors, but there is one troupe I’ve never heard of—the Storm Clouds. They are supposed to feature several good fighters, and I’m eager to learn more about them . . .

I leaned forward and read the passage again. And then a third time. Now this—this might be something.

Back on The Drowned Man, I’d told Reiko my suspicion that Milo was running toward something, rather than simply away from us and the other bounty hunters on his trail. If Milo was determined to attack Andvari, then there was no better opportunity than the Sword and Shield Tournament, especially given the throngs of people who had flocked to Glanzen for the event. Of course, Rhea had voiced this same thought to Father and Grandfather Heinrich, and she’d greatly increased security around the fairgrounds where the tournament was being held, along with here at the palace.

Still, joining a gladiator troupe would be an excellent way for Milo and Wexel to sneak into the city. After all, Everleigh Blair had used the same ruse to get close enough to challenge her cousin Vasilia for the throne all those years ago. Milo might despise the Bellonan queen, but he was smart enough to remember that piece of Buchovian history—and so was I.

If Milo and Wexel were here in Glanzen, either with the Storm Clouds or another gladiator troupe, then the trick would be getting them to show themselves—something I hoped to accomplish with my long game. Because I had invited someone to the tournament that Milo despised just as much as he did me, someone I hoped he wouldn’t be able to resist trying to murder again—

A knock sounded on the hallway door. A familiar presence filled my mind, and I smiled and waved my hand. The lock turned, the door opened, and Leonidas entered.

“What are you doing?” he asked, staring down at the papers on my desk.

I set Adora’s letter aside with all the others. “Wasting my time. None of my sources has heard anything about Milo or Wexel.”

I sighed, leaned back in my chair, and gestured at the pile of letters. “After we came up empty in Allentown, I was hoping a bit of good news might be waiting here, but this is all just more of the same nothingness.”

Leonidas scooted some of the papers off to the side and perched on the corner of the desk. “We’ll find Milo sooner or later. If he’s smart, he really has set sail down the Summanus River and is heading to Fortuna Island.”

“But what if he’s more vindictive than smart?” I countered. “What if he is sneaking into Glanzen at this very moment? Slipping in with the gladiators and spectators streaming into the city for the tournament?”

Ice filled Leonidas’s eyes. “Then we’ll find him and kill him.”

The cold promise in his voice matched the ruthlessness beating in my own heart, and it comforted me to know he was just as determined to stop Milo as I was. I reached out and squeezed his hand, and Leonidas threaded his fingers through mine. Some of my worry eased, but it was quickly replaced by more tension.

“I’m sorry about how everyone acted during the garden party. You’ve been here for a few weeks now, and I was hoping things would at least get . . .”

“Tolerable?” he suggested, arching a black eyebrow. “Don’t worry, Gemma. I didn’t expect to be greeted with open arms. No Morricone ever expects that, no matter what kingdom they’re in. Why, there are even some shops in Majesta where I can’t show my face for fear that a tailor will come after me with a pair of scissors, or a butcher will do the same with a carving knife.”

His voice was light, and he was trying to make a joke about not being welcome in his own capital city, but his body was stiff with tension, and hurt rippled off him and pinched my own heart tight.

“Tell me, though,” Leonidas continued. “What did you promise Eichen to get him to speak to me? Because after the two of you had your private chat by the gazebo, he practically talked my ear off about the tournament for the rest of the garden party.”

I grimaced. “Was I that obvious?”

He shrugged. “Only to me. My mother has played similar games with the Myrkvior nobles over the years, especially recently, with those who have sons she thinks might make a suitable match for Delmira.”

“First, your mother tries to force us to get engaged by invoking the Gauntlet tradition during the Summit, and now she’s set her sights on Delmira?” I shook my head. “I don’t envy your sister’s position.”

Leonidas shrugged again. “Out of the three of us, Delmira has always rebelled against Maeven the most, even more so than Milo, in some ways. My sister is much more like our mother than she cares to admit, and neither one of them will bend to the other. I’ve always admired Delmira for standing up to Maeven. For me, it was easier to just go along with whatever Mother wanted. It caused me far less trouble and heartache than what Delmira has endured.”

His words made me think of various conversations I’d overheard and had myself with both his mother and sister indicating that something was amiss between them.

“Did Maeven ever . . . do something to Delmira?” I asked. “Something . . . bad?”

His face turned thoughtful. “I’m not sure. All I remember is that something happened when Delmira was very young. Mother took her on a trip, supposedly to see our father, and Delmira was different when they returned. Some of her . . . joy was gone, as strange as that might sound. I don’t think Mother physically hurt her, though.”

“Not like Maximus did you,” I said in a soft voice.

A muscle ticced in Leonidas’s jaw, and even more tension radiated off his body. My gaze dropped to his many layers of clothing, which he wore like a suit of armor. Beneath the fine fabrics, scars covered Leonidas’s back from where King Maximus, his uncle, had whipped, burned, and otherwise tortured him as a boy.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Leonidas said, changing the subject. “What did you promise Eichen?”

“Just a cutting of liladorn to take home and plant in his own gardens.”

I got up and walked over to the bookcase. Beside my mother’s portrait, a strand of liladorn was sitting in some water inside a crystal bowl, with its thorns stretched out on either side of the rim like arms, as if it were a person lounging in a hot, soothing bath.

Liladorn was incredibly tough, and I doubted even boiling water would so much as scorch its rock-hard yet strangely flexible skin. This particular strand had been wrapped around a bouquet of ice violets that Leonidas had given me during the first Gauntlet challenge during the Summit, and it had saved my life when Corvina Dumond had shot me with a poisoned arrow.

I gestured at the vine. “Perhaps I’ll just give Eichen this bit of liladorn. That would save me the trouble of trying to figure out how to actually cut a piece of it out of the stands in the gardens.”

We decide where we go, Not-Our-Princess, that familiar voice whispered in my mind again. Not you. And we don’t want some silly plant magier poking and prodding us with his pesky shears.

I leaned forward and stared at the vine. Why not? He can’t hurt you with them. Why, it might be fun for you to frustrate him the same way you have me.

True, the voice mused. Perhaps you are right for a change, Not-Our-Princess. Very well. You may remove a piece of us from the Edelstein Gardens to give to your plant magier. But only a small piece.

How kind of you.

The vine sniffed at my sarcasm, then settled itself a little deeper in the water.

Leonidas came over to stand beside me. “Is it talking to you again?”

For some reason, the vine often spoke to me, although it had never communicated with him, despite the fact that liladorn covered Myrkvior, the Morricone palace, from top to bottom.

“Unfortunately,” I muttered. “The liladorn enjoys mocking me. It reminds me of your mother that way.”

Leonidas laughed, and the low, husky sound warmed my heart. I adored hearing him laugh, something he didn’t do nearly often enough. Then again, he hadn’t had much to laugh about in his life, something I was hoping to change.

I looped my arms around his neck. “How was your afternoon ride with Fern? I saw the two of you zooming around the palace rooftops through the windows in Alvis’s workshop.”

His eyes brightened, and his hands gripped my waist. “Wonderful. Although I think Grimley was jealous that I didn’t pick him to ride today.”

Leonidas loved flying just as much as I did, so I had asked Fern, Grimley, and the other palace gargoyles to let the prince ride them to his heart’s content. Gargoyles had far fewer prejudices than people did, and they had quickly warmed up to Leonidas, especially since he brought them citrines and other gemstones to eat. Now the gargoyles practically fought for the chance to fly Leonidas around the palace.

Of course Lyra got a little jealous, crowing that she could fly much faster and smoother than any of the gargoyles. I had ridden Lyra a few times, and she was right. The strix was far more graceful through the air than the gargoyles were, although I would never hurt the other creatures’ feelings by admitting that.

“Perhaps we can go riding together tomorrow afternoon, after the tournament festivities are finished,” I suggested.

His eyes brightened a little more. “I would love that.”

Leonidas’s hands tightened on my waist, and his gaze dropped to my lips. In an instant, the mood between us shifted from light and playful to hot and intense.

Sometimes, I thought I would never get tired of looking at him, of seeing the many subtle shades of purple glinting like individual facets in his eyes or admiring how the ends of his longish black hair always curled slightly up, like the onyx tips on Lyra’s feathers. Of studying how the light brought out his sharp cheekbones and straight nose or how his black clothes hinted at the coiled strength of his body. And especially of sensing his thoughts, his desire, and especially his love for me mixing, mingling, and merging with what was beating in my own mind, body, and heart.

“I would love to kiss you right now,” Leonidas murmured.

“So why don’t you?”

He jerked his head to the side. “Because we have an audience.”

I glanced over at the bookcase. The liladorn had moved to the front of the crystal bowl and propped its thorns up on the rim like hands supporting its head, clearly watching us with avid interest, despite its lack of an actual face.

One of the thorns waved like a dismissive hand. Please. We have no interest in watching you. We are enjoying our bath.

Liar, I teased.

That voice snorted in my mind, but the vine slithered back to the opposite side of the bowl to give us a bit more privacy.

“Perhaps we should retire to a less-crowded chamber.” I tilted my head toward the door at the other end of the room. “Like one with a comfortable bed waiting inside.”

Leonidas flashed me a wicked grin, then lifted me up off the floor. I locked my legs around his waist, feeling his hard cock settle in between my thighs. I rocked forward, and he groaned.

“I don’t care what kind of audience we have,” I whispered. “But just in case you need further encouragement . . .”

I rocked forward again, and Leonidas groaned for a second time. I tangled my fingers in his silky hair and breathed in deeply, letting the soft, masculine scent of his honeysuckle soap fill my nose even as the rest of him flooded my senses. His strong, sure hands gripping my hips, his muscled chest pressing up against mine, the warmth of his body mixing with my own. I rocked forward again, not to tease him, but just to get closer, to feel more of him.

Leonidas strode forward, still carrying me. He left the study, stepped into my bedroom, and kicked the door shut behind us. Then he stopped in the middle of the room and eased me down so that I was standing before him again.

I took all the proper herbs and precautions, as did he, and I was eager to explore every inch of his body. I reached for him, but Leonidas stepped back. He flicked his fingers, and the silver gargoyle pin that hooked my cloak around my throat loosened. He flicked his fingers again, and the pin floated over and landed on a nightstand, even as the cloak slid off my shoulders and pooled at my feet.

I arched an eyebrow. “What game are you playing?”

His smile widened. “Let me show you.”

He curled his fingers, and the laces on the back of my dress slowly opened, as if pushed apart by a set of invisible hands—his hands, thanks to his mind magier magic. Leonidas curled his fingers again, and the dress opened wider and wider, until it was completely undone. Another curl of his fingers sent the fabric sliding off my arms and down onto the floor. A few more flicks, dips, and curls of his fingers did the same thing to my shoes and undergarments. In seconds, I was standing naked before him, with clothing strewn on the floor all around me.

Desire flared in his eyes, making them burn with amethyst fire. I shivered, even as my stomach clenched in anticipation.

“No matter how many times we’re together, I’m always awed by how strong and beautiful you are,” he said in a hoarse voice.

I reached for him, but Leonidas held up his hand, asking me to stop. I stood there, waiting and shivering. He hadn’t even touched me yet, and heat was already pooling between my thighs.

Leonidas flicked his fingers yet again, and my dark brown hair slid back over my shoulders. His magic twined around me like a ribbon, velvet soft but with a hint of strength behind it. His power flowed across my neck and collarbones, then trailed down the center of my chest in a gentle caress. Then, all at once, his magic morphed into two invisible hands that were cupping my breasts.

I gasped and arched back, my nipples hardening. Those two hands slid lower and lower, those invisible fingers dipping down to stroke the most intimate part of me. I stood there, shivering and trembling, as Leonidas teased me with his magic, touching me over and over again.

“Such smooth skin, such lovely curves, such power and strength and passion.”

His voice flowed over me, but I barely registered the compliments, too caught up in the heat building inside my body.

Leonidas stroking, caressing, and teasing me with his magic was one of the most thrilling things I had ever experienced, but it wasn’t enough. I wanted all of him—his skin, his body, his lips and tongue and actual hands on me—so I stepped forward and flicked my fingers the same way he had.

The silver strix pin at his throat loosened and floated over to join my gargoyle pin on the vanity table, even as his cloak dropped to the floor. A small black journal slid out of one of his cloak pockets, rousing my curiosity, although Leonidas quickly scooted the book aside with his boot, shoving it back under the fabric.

“Copycat,” he teased.

I gave him the same wicked grin he had given me. “Oh, I’m just getting started.”

I waved my hand. One by one, the amethyst buttons on his black riding coat popped open, and I peeled the fabric off his body with my magic just as he had removed my dress. I made quick work of the rest of his clothes, and soon he was standing naked before me.

The smile vanished from his face, and his hands clenched into fists by his sides. In that moment, he reminded me of a fierce, beautiful strix just waiting to strike out and latch onto its prey. Well, I wasn’t ready to be caught just yet.

I slowly circled around Leonidas, admiring everything about him, from the way his black hair gleamed underneath the fluorestones to the solid planes of his muscled chest to his firm ass. I walked around behind him and stopped, studying the scars that covered his back—from the long, thin white lines left behind by a whip to the smaller, round, puckered burn marks to the eerie zigzag patches that always reminded me of jagged, uneven seams of thread.

“Your scars are beautiful,” I murmured.

Leonidas shuddered out a breath, his fists loosened, and some of the tension in his shoulders eased.

I moved around so that I was standing in front of him again. Then I reached out with my magic, slowly trailing the invisible fingers of my power down his chest and stomach. When I grasped his cock, a hiss escaped his lips.

I stopped. “Is this okay?”

Leonidas nodded, the desire in his eyes flaring even brighter and hotter than before. “I love it when you touch me, Gemma.”

I grinned and stroked him with my magic, watching every bunch, flex, and twitch of his body. In seconds, he was trembling.

“You know what would be even better?” he asked. “This.”

Another wicked grin curved his lips, and Leonidas used his own power again, stroking me the same way that I was him. By this point, we were both trembling and gasping, but we both kept going, using our magic to bring as much pleasure to each other as possible.

The more power we used, the closer our bodies drew together, those invisible strings of energy pulling us toward each other. Soon, we were inches apart, staring into each other’s eyes. My magic flowed, caressed, and teased his skin, just as his magic was still curling around my own body, as though we were standing in a silent storm of passion.

I didn’t know which one of us made the first move to physically touch the other. Or perhaps it was both of us, at the same time. His hands settled on my waist again, while my arms looped around his neck. Leonidas dipped his head, even as I lifted mine toward his.

That first soft brush of our lips was like throwing a lit match into a mine full of gas—everything went up in flames.

In an instant, our tongues were stroking together, and our hands were roaming over each other’s bodies. Leonidas cupped my breasts, and I dug my fingers into his shoulders and arched back. He tore his mouth away from mine and trailed kisses down the side of my neck. His tongue darted out and scraped against my right nipple; then he closed his teeth around it and sucked hard. I gasped, and desire twisted through my whole body. Leonidas did the same thing to my other breast, and I tangled my fingers in his hair, urging him on, even as my other hand snaked down in between us.

I wrapped my hand around his cock and stroked him, sliding my fingers back and forth in a quick rhythm.

“Gemma,” he rasped against my chest. “Gemma.”

His magic curled around us again, and my feet floated up, even as my body tilted backward. Somehow, I ended up on the floor, on top of all the clothes we’d shed earlier.

Leonidas hovered right above me, passion making his eyes blaze like purple stars. I looped my arms around his neck and drew him down on top of me, finally feeling every delicious inch of his hard, muscled body pressing against my own. I trailed my hands up and down his back, my fingers gently tracing over his scars, trying to show him how strong I thought he was, how brave, and especially how much I loved him.

I know.His low, husky voice filled my mind. I love you too, Gemma.

Then show me.

He smiled, his eyes soft and warm, then dipped his head and kissed me again.

I lost myself in Leonidas. In the firm press of his lips against mine. In the teasing strokes of his tongue. In the slide and glide of his fingers across my skin. In his rich honeysuckle scent and light, feathery magic that filled me with a burning need that could only be quenched by one thing—him.

Leonidas raised his head and looked at me again. I gripped his shoulders and opened my legs. Still staring at me, he moved forward and thrust deep inside me. We both groaned, and I locked my legs around his hips, even as he rocked forward again.

And then again, and again, and again.

That silent storm of passion shattered, and we both started moaning each other’s name. Those waves of pleasure arched higher and higher, merging into sharp, aching need, and we both kept going, moving together. That delicious pressure built deep inside me, then erupted all at once, like shooting stars streaking through the night sky.

The orgasm ripped through me, and I felt it move through Leonidas too. In that moment, our bodies, minds, and magics were one and the same, and I happily drowned in that tidal wave of passion, power, and pleasure.