Capture the Crown (Gargoyle Queen #1) -Jennifer Estep Page 0,85
movement caught my eye, and I spotted Reiko at a table about thirty feet away. She had chosen a seat directly in my line of sight. The dragon morph toasted me with her goblet, then started talking to the man next to her.
A trumpet blared out a series of loud, boisterous notes, drowning out the chatter. The trumpet trailed off, and everyone fell deathly quiet. In the distance, a man cleared his throat.
“Announcing Her Royal Majesty, Queen Maeven Aella Toril Morricone!” the man’s voice boomed out, each word louder than a thunderclap.
Everyone pushed back from their tables and shot to their feet. I did the same, as did Delmira and Leonidas on either side of me.
Delmira leaned past me and looked at her brother. “Where is Milo?”
My gaze flicked to the two conspicuously empty chairs across the table from Delmira and me. The crown prince should have arrived before the queen, as protocol dictated, but he was nowhere in sight.
“Where is he?” Delmira managed to hiss the words while still keeping a smile fixed on her face. An impressive feat, even for a princess.
Leonidas shrugged, as if he didn’t know, but worry filled his face. Delmira leaned back, her smile even tighter than before, as though she were grinding her teeth to hold it in place.
The last echoes of the man’s voice faded away, and silence descended over the throne room again. No one moved or spoke, and a faint noise rang out—the same snap-snap-snap-snap of heels striking the floor I’d heard in the rotunda this morning. The steady rhythm filled me with dread, but there was no escape.
Not from the queen.
Maeven strode into view, her head held high, and her gaze fixed straight ahead. The white light from the fluorestone chandeliers brought out the sharp, angular planes of her face while softening the fine lines around her eyes and the deeper wrinkles around her mouth. Maeven had shed her simpler day clothes for a stunning silk gown that was such a dark purple it almost looked black. The same shade of berry balm stained her lips.
The streaks of silver in her hair had been braided, like marks of honor, and then sleeked back into the rest of her golden bun. A modest amethyst-and-diamond crown was perched on her head, while silver bracelets studded with amethysts were stacked up on her wrists. Matching rings glittered on her fingers, and a large, square amethyst almost as big as my palm hung from a silver chain around her neck.
The jewels were filled with Maeven’s lightning magic, and the collective treasure trove of power made my fingertips tingle even more violently than they had this morning, as though I were continuously getting static-shocked. Curious that Maeven would wear so many gems filled with so much magic to a formal dinner.
Maeven strode to the head of the table, and a servant pulled out her chair. Instead of sitting down, the queen looked out over the sea of people. She glanced at Delmira first, then Leonidas, and nodded to them. Her gaze skittered across the table to the two empty seats, but she quickly moved on, as though the spaces were of no importance, even though it was a glaring oversight and a highly insulting bit of protocol.
Then Maeven focused on me. Her sharp, critical gaze trailed down my dress before drifting back up to my face. The queen studied me for several seconds, but I stood tall and straight and stared right back at her. I would have loved to have known what she was thinking, but I didn’t dare try to skim her thoughts, lest she sense my magic.
Maeven swept her skirt out to the side and sat down. Everyone waited until she was settled, then took their own seats again. The queen opened her mouth, probably to welcome everyone to her birthday dinner—
In the distance, a door banged open, as though it had been forcibly slammed into the wall behind it. The sound boomed through the throne room, although it was quickly replaced by the loud slap-slap-slap-slap of footsteps. Several whispers of surprise surged through the crowd.
I couldn’t see what was going on without craning my neck, so I studied Reiko. Sometime over the past few minutes, her morph mark had migrated from her hand up to her neck. Reiko’s eyes narrowed, and smoke boiled out of the dragon’s mouth, the black plume streaking across her skin before fading away. Whatever Reiko was looking at angered both her and her inner dragon—