Capture the Crown (Gargoyle Queen #1) -Jennifer Estep Page 0,57

I hit the floor.

As soon as I regained my balance, I turned to head back in the direction I’d come, but it was too late. All around the rotunda, the guards, servants, merchants, and nobles stopped what they were doing, and their collective unease rippled through the air like a heat wave. These people might not be able to sense the magier’s power like I could, but they instinctively knew that someone dangerous was approaching. All conversation ceased, although another sound rose up—the loud, steady snap-snap-snap-snap of heels striking the flagstones.

A woman appeared in one of the archways. Everyone froze, as though they had suddenly become mired in quicksand, and I had no choice but to freeze as well. The woman kept striding forward, the snap-snap-snap-snap of her heels growing louder and closer, like thunder rumbling in my direction.

The woman finally stopped near the center of the rotunda, right next to the amethyst eye that had tripped me. She was quite striking, with golden hair sleeked up into a high bun, although several streaks of silver glinted at her temples. Her face was thinner than I remembered, and wrinkles had grooved into her pale skin, especially around her dark amethyst eyes. Deeper wrinkles fanned out around her mouth, as though she had spent most of her fifty-something years perpetually pursing her lips in a displeased pucker.

She was wearing a beautiful gown of midnight-purple velvet, and the Morricone royal crest—that fancy cursive M surrounded by a ring of strix feathers—stretched across her chest in glittering silver thread. A silver choker studded with amethysts sparkled around her throat, while matching cuffs and rings glimmered on her wrists and fingers. All the gems practically dripped with magic, as did the woman herself.

Queen Maeven Aella Toril Morricone.

Chapter Twelve

Part of me couldn’t believe what I was seeing. That this was actually happening. Being trapped in the Morricone royal palace was bad enough, but I’d never dreamed that I’d come face-to-face with her.

But here I was, a few scant feet away from Queen Maeven. The woman who had orchestrated the murders of Uncle Frederich, Lord Hans, and so many others during the Seven Spire massacre. The woman who had wanted me to die right alongside them. The woman who had caused so much pain, misery, and suffering in my life, as well as in the lives of countless Andvarians and Bellonans, including Uncle Lucas and Aunt Evie.

I’m going to enjoy this. Maeven’s voice whispered through my mind just as it had before the massacre.

Rage erupted inside me with all the force of a Vacunan volcano, filling my heart with boiling venom and murderous hate that seared through my shock and charred my worry to ash. Forget about escaping. Killing Maeven was the only thing that mattered.

First, I would grab the dagger out of my boot and hurl it at the bitch. If that didn’t kill her, then I would reach out with my magic, force my way past her own lightning magier power, and grab hold of the energy surrounding Maeven, grab hold of her. Then I would give a vicious yank, toss her into the nearest column, and snap her bloody spine.

Maeven would be dead before she even hit the floor.

The gargoyle pendant hidden under my tunic grew ice-cold against my skin, almost in warning. The pieces of black jet heated up when they blocked others’ thoughts, but the blue tearstone shards chilled as they soaked up my power—and strained to contain it.

The pendant grew colder—and colder still—against my heart, and the bitter chill finally iced over some of my rage. Despite my burning desire for revenge, I couldn’t murder Maeven. The guards would draw their swords and rush forward the instant they realized their queen was under attack, and I wouldn’t be able to kill them all before they overwhelmed and cut me down. No, escaping with my life was much more important than any revenge I could take on Maeven.

I let out a tense, ragged breath, and my pendant lost some of its bitter chill, as if it could sense that I was back in control of my emotions and my magic.

Maeven looked around the rotunda, then waved her hand. At the signal, the guards shifted on their feet, and the servants, merchants, and nobles ducked their heads and scurried away, returning to their chores and conversations, albeit much more quietly than before.

I hesitated, still not sure which way to go. Maeven must have noticed my lack of movement because she glanced in