Capture the Crown (Gargoyle Queen #1) -Jennifer Estep Page 0,113

stolen from Milo’s workshop out of my boot and twirled it back and forth in my fingers, making it shift from light gray to dark blue and back again.

Reiko tracked the changing colors, her face creasing into a frown. “Why tearstone?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why make arrows out of tearstone? Why not make them out of iron or some other more common ore? Tearstone is notoriously tricky to work with, and tearstone weapons often shatter, unless they’re crafted by a highly skilled metalstone master. Milo didn’t go to all this trouble just to make arrows that are going to shatter the first—and only—time they’re fired. So what’s the point?”

They were all good, troubling questions. “I don’t know.”

We both stared at the arrow, and I kept moving it back and forth, watching the colors change.

“Give me the arrow,” Reiko said in a quiet voice.

My fingers curled around the projectile. “What?”

“Give me the arrow,” she repeated. “I have some contacts in the city, some true metalstone masters. They might be able to tell us more about the arrow, and what Milo is planning to do with it.”

I arched an eyebrow. “Us? I thought there was no us. Just you, the daring, sophisticated spy, and me, Glitzma, the pampered princess playing at being one.”

Reiko huffed. “I already said that I underestimated you.”

“Is that supposed to be an apology?”

“Given what I thought of you when you showed up at the Blauberg mine? Absolutely.”

I gave her a sour look. “Well, I’m glad I could amuse you.”

Reiko grinned, and her inner dragon opened its mouth in a wide, silent laugh, although both of their expressions quickly turned serious again. “Give me the arrow, and I promise to return it to you after my contacts have examined it. We need to figure out what Milo is plotting in order to protect both our kingdoms.” She paused. “Please.”

I looked at her and her inner dragon, but they both regarded me with solemn expressions. I could have tried to read their thoughts, but that would have been a violation of the fragile trust that was struggling to take root between us. So I took a leap of faith. Besides, no risk, no reward, as the old saying went.

I held out the arrow, and Reiko slipped it into her pocket. In return, she offered her hand to me, and I clasped my fingers around her forearm, sealing our missions and our fates together—for now.

* * *

Reiko and I looked around to make sure no one had seen us talking, then left the library.

“I’ll slip out of the palace and take the arrow to my contacts right now,” Reiko said. “What will you do?”

“I have a lead on where Milo might be hiding the tearstone. Maybe I can at least damage the arrows and any other weapons he’s made—”

We rounded a corner, and I slammed into someone. I jerked back and started to offer an apology when I realized that I hadn’t run into a servant or a random noble.

I’d crashed straight into Leonidas.

The apology flew out of my mind, replaced by a sharp spike of worry. Had he heard me talking to Reiko? Did he recognize her from the Blauberg mine? Did he realize that we’d joined forces? That I was plotting against him?

I stopped short, standing in front of Leonidas, but Reiko kept moving, turning her head, slouching her shoulders, and scurrying right on by him. From one moment to the next, she transformed from a noble lady ambling around the palace to an anonymous servant hurrying about her work. Even I might have overlooked her, if I hadn’t seen the smooth transformation for myself.

Reiko was right. She was much better at being a spy than I was.

Leonidas started to glance over his shoulder at Reiko, but I loudly cleared my throat, drawing his attention back to me.

Behind the prince, Reiko winked at me, then slipped into another hallway and vanished from sight.

“Lady Armina,” Leonidas said. “I thought you might like to take that tour of the palace we discussed last night.”

Tour? He must mean the old armory.

“Of course. Thank you, Your Highness.”

Leonidas hesitated, then offered me his arm. I too hesitated, but I threaded my arm through his, once again trying not to notice the strength in his muscles or the warmth of his body brushing up against my own. No matter how handsome he was, or how charming he seemed, Leonidas Morricone was still my enemy. My ghosting magic had reminded me of that last night, although certain