Capture the Crown (Gargoyle Queen #1) -Jennifer Estep Page 0,72

herself. After several seconds, her steps slowed, and she faced the glass again.

“All right,” she grumbled. “I’ll stay here, but only because I can’t come get you without making things worse.”

“Thank you, Topacia.”

She stabbed a finger at me. “But promise me that you will contact your father as soon as we’re done.”

“I promise. And don’t worry. Everything is going to be fine.”

Topacia tried to smile, but it was a grim, lopsided expression. “Please be careful, Gemma.”

“Aren’t I always?” I drawled.

My friend barked out a laugh. “Never.”

She was right about that, but my joke made some of the worry trickle out of her face. I nodded at her, then pulled the compact away from the mirror, breaking our connection. Topacia’s image flickered and faded away.

I sighed, but I had made her a promise, so I pressed the compact up to the vanity-table mirror again and asked to see my father’s study, since that was the most likely place for him to be this time of day. Magic flared, and a few seconds later, the room came into view.

My gaze traced over the ebony writing desk, bookcases, and other familiar furnishings. Like most royals, Father had his own Cardea mirror so that he could talk to the leaders of the other kingdoms, as well as nobles, merchants, guilders, and anyone else that he needed to in order to help Grandfather Heinrich rule Andvari.

“Father?” I called out. “Are you there?”

I’d barely finished speaking when footsteps sounded, and a man rushed into view. He was in his fifties with tan skin and the same blue eyes and dark brown hair that I had, although his locks were sprinkled with silver. He was wearing a dark gray jacket, and the Ripley royal crest—a snarling gargoyle face—gleamed in shiny black thread over his heart. He wasn’t sporting a crown, but he didn’t need to. Everyone in Andvari knew the face of Crown Prince Dominic Ripley.

“Gemma!” My father’s relief rippled through the mirror, even stronger than the waves of magic.

“Father.”

I kept my voice steady, but I had to blink back the tears stinging my eyes. Now was not the time to show any emotion, no matter how happy I was to see him. My father wouldn’t agree to my scheme if he thought I had any doubts.

Father leaned forward, peering at me. “Where are you?” He frowned. “And why are you wearing Mortan purple?”

I told him everything, from Conley shoving me into the chasm, to Leonidas saving me, to the deal I’d struck with the Morricone prince.

By the time I finished, Father was shaking his head no, no, no, a familiar, frustrating motion he always did whenever I wanted to do something he didn’t approve of, like my spy missions.

“You can’t be serious,” he said. “You can’t actually think staying at Myrkvior and spying on Milo Morricone is a good idea.”

I bristled at his chiding tone. “It’s an excellent idea. We’ll never get a better chance to learn about Milo’s plans. Besides, you’ve often wished you could plant an Andvarian spy in the Mortan court.”

Father grimaced. He and Grandfather Heinrich had had several conversations to that effect, and he didn’t like me using his own words against him.

“You need to find Grimley and come home at once, Gemma,” Father said in a deep, stern voice. “Majesta is perilous enough, and Myrkvior even more so. If anyone at the palace were to realize your true identity . . .” His voice trailed off. “Well, we both know how much the Morricones love torturing their enemies.”

This time, I was the one who grimaced. Yes, I did, thanks to the Seven Spire massacre.

“At this point, my best chance to find out what Milo is plotting and to return home safely is to work with Leonidas.”

Father harrumphed. “Trusting a Morricone is like trying to grab a lightning bolt. Even if you manage to latch onto it, you’re still going to get burned.”

He was probably right about that, especially given how Leonidas and I had tried to murder each other as children.

“Well, like it or not, I’m stuck with him. On the bright side, Leonidas doesn’t seem quite as cruel as the other Morricones. Besides, we both know that he has helped Aunt Evie in the past, including at the Regalia Games all those years ago.”

Father’s lips puckered with displeasure much the same way Maeven’s had earlier. He didn’t like me pointing out that fact either. “Yes, but that doesn’t mean he will help you now. Leonidas Morricone was a desperate boy