Mercer sneered at me. I drew in a breath, tasting his scent. He too reeked of hot, caustic lightning, although the aroma was much weaker and without the bloody note that clung to his father. Mercer was powerful, but not nearly as strong as his father.
The second royal was also a man in his late twenties, with the same golden hair, tan skin, and amethyst eyes as his other relatives, although his features were a bit softer, making him far more handsome. He too was dressed in a dark purple tunic, although the Morricone royal crest was just a small symbol stitched in silver thread over his heart. Nox, one of the king’s legitimate nephews.
Nox also sneered at me, but his expression quickly wilted under my cold glare, and he shifted on his feet. The last time I’d seen Nox had been the night of the royal challenge, when I’d killed Vasilia on the Seven Spire lawn. He had seen me shove my sword through my cousin’s traitorous heart, and he at least had the common sense to be wary of me.
Nox’s gaze flicked past me, and his eyes widened and his face paled. Auster stepped forward and stared at the younger man, his hand curled around his sword. The captain hated Nox even more than I did for his role in Queen Cordelia’s death. Nox had also tortured Auster for months after the Seven Spire massacre.
I looked at Auster, who bowed to me and stepped back. He might want to kill Nox, but he would never disobey his queen, and I had given Auster strict orders not to touch Nox. Not yet.
I turned my attention to the other two Mortan royals. To my surprise, one of them was Leonidas, the teenage boy I’d spoken to through the Cardea mirror at Seven Spire. He was dressed in a light purple tunic, but the royal crest didn’t adorn his clothes, further confirming my suspicion that he was a bastard, just like his mother was.
Leonidas stared at me, a worried look on his face, as though he was still concerned that I would announce to everyone that I had spoken to him through the mirror. I might still do that, but only when it benefited me the most, and now was not that moment.
And then there was the fourth and final Mortan royal, a woman in her mid-forties. Her golden hair was sleeked back into a high, elegant bun, and the perfect amount of understated makeup brought out her pale skin and amethyst eyes, along with the rest of her beautiful features, which were as familiar to me as my own face. She was quite a bit thinner than I remembered, although her face was finally free of the ugly mark that had marred it for so long from where the king had backhanded her after one of her failed attempts to murder me.
She was wearing a lovely lilac-colored gown, and a silver choker studded with amethysts ringed her neck. Two matching cuffs glinted on her wrists, while a ring gleamed on her index finger. All the gems reeked of magic, as did the woman herself.
Maeven, the bitch who’d orchestrated the Seven Spire massacre.
Icy rage surged through me, and once again my inner gladiator longed to draw my sword and ram it into her heart, before using the blade on Nox, Mercer, and Maximus. But I forced down my rage, just as I had the rest of my emotions.
This was supposed to be a civilized meeting, and I would not be the first one to break protocol and reveal it for the sham it truly was. Maximus had thwarted my assassination attempt, and I couldn’t afford another failure right now. Once you started losing at courtly games, it was hard to stop the bleeding, much less get back onto your feet and actually win anything.
“I’m sure you know my son Mercer and my nephew Nox,” Maximus said, breaking the silence.
“Of course.” I kept staring at Maeven. “I know all the Morricone royals. Even the bastards like Maeven and Leonidas.”
Maeven blinked, clearly surprised that I knew her son’s name, and her fingers twitched as though she wanted to grab his shoulder and shove the boy behind her to protect him from me.
“Why, I’m probably more familiar with the bastard Morricones than anyone else,” I continued in a light, pleasant voice. “After all, I’ve encountered so many of them over this past year.”
Everyone on the terrace tensed. Gossip spread faster than the clap at my court and all the others, and everyone realized that I was talking about how many members of the Bastard Brigade I had killed. I might not be able to wound the Mortans with my sword, but I could still cut them to pieces with my words. Or at least try to.
“Well, perhaps you’ll have the opportunity to meet even more of them.” Mercer sneered at me again. “Sooner than you think.”
The tension thickened, squeezing around the terrace like an invisible fist. The crown prince had just threatened my life. How sweet. Still, I took note of his words. He had just confirmed that the Bastard Brigade was lurking around somewhere, which meant that the Mortans were already plotting against me, just like I was them.
“I look forward to it. I’m sure I’ll have just as much fun with them as I have with all your other relatives so far.” I gave him a razor-thin smile. “Unless, of course, some legitimate Morricone wants to meet with me. Now, that would be a refreshing change.”
Several people gasped at my returning Mercer’s threat with one of my own, while others eased back, trying to get clear in case a fight actually did break out between me and the crown prince.
Anger stained Mercer’s cheeks a bright red, and his right hand curled into a fist. The stench of magic surged around him, as though he were an instant away from blasting me with his lightning. Mercer glanced over at his father, clearly asking for permission. Maximus gave him a cold, flat stare, and Mercer’s anger wilted like a flavored ice on a hot summer day, along with the scent of his magic.
Driscol cleared his throat and stepped forward, putting himself in the very dangerous space between me and the Mortan king. “Come. Sit. Eat. Relax. Let us enjoy the opening ceremonies. We’ve prepared a magnificent welcome spread . . .”
He kept chattering, trying to diffuse the situation. Maximus stared at me another moment, then followed the other man over to the buffet tables. Mercer smirked at me and headed after his father. Nox scuttled after them. The tension eased, and several servants and guards let out audible sighs of relief.
It seemed as though Maximus was going to completely ignore my attempt to kill him, and everyone was eager to follow his lead. By pretending nothing had happened, he was telling everyone how little he thought of the assassin’s arrow and whomever had arranged it—me. More anger sizzled in my chest. My plotting didn’t frighten him in the least.
Leonidas glanced at me, then at his mother. Maeven made a small shooing motion with her hand, and the boy hurried over to one of the buffet tables, although not the same one as Maximus, Mercer, and Nox.
Maeven started to join her son, but I moved forward and blocked her path.
“Hello, Maeven,” I purred. “I’m so glad you’re here. We haven’t chatted much recently.”
Her lips puckered, but she didn’t respond. Maeven stepped to the side, and I let her sweep past me and head over to Leonidas, who was piling pastries on a plate.
Everyone returned to their previous conversations, although they all kept shooting glances at me and the Mortans. I eyed the other royals. Heinrich and Dominic were both grinning, but Eon, Ruri, Cisco, and Zariza all wore far more reserved expressions. They were still waiting to see what might happen between Maximus and me.
I grabbed another kiwi mimosa from a passing servant and toasted the other royals. Only Heinrich and Dominic returned the gesture, but that didn’t surprise me. I tilted up the glass and took a long drink, but the sweet, fizzy liquid did little to drown the bitter taste of defeat in my mouth.