Conquer the Kingdom, page 1
Dedication
To my mom—for your love, your patience, and everything else that you’ve given to me over the years.
To all the readers who wanted more stories set in my Crown of Shards world—this one is for you.
And to my teenage self, who devoured every single epic fantasy book that she could get her hands on—for writing your very own epic fantasy books.
Epigraphs
To conquer a kingdom, you must first crush its heart.
—Maximus Morricone, former king of Morta
Andvari shall never fall, so long as one gargoyle lives.
—Armina Ripley, first queen of Andvari
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Dedication
Epigraphs
Map 1
Map 2
Map 3
Part One: The Bounty Hunter Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Part Two: The Prince of Lightning Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Part Three: The Gargoyle Queen Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Acknowledgments
About the Author
By Jennifer Estep
Copyright
About the Publisher
Map 1
Map 2
Map 3
Part One
The Bounty Hunter
Chapter One
I’ve played a lot of parts in my life.
My most frequent and famous role is that of Gemma Armina Merilde Ripley, crown princess of Andvari, also snidely known as Glitzma. I suppose Princess Gemma is who I am, for better or worse.
But it’s not all that I am.
Princess Gemma is just one part of my persona, a carefully crafted role that enables me to travel throughout Andvari and into the kingdoms beyond, spying on those who would harm my people, gathering intelligence on their schemes, and thwarting their plots both great and small.
Being a spy is much more useful and far more satisfying than being a princess. In recent weeks, I had masqueraded as everything from a miner to a jewelry maker to a gladiator. Right now I was playing a new part, one that just might be my most important role yet.
Bounty hunter.
I crouched down, eased forward, and peered around the side of a large wooden crate. Similar crates were stacked all along the riverfront, while thick ropes were curled up like coral vipers on the grimy flagstones. Small rowboats rested on the muddy shore in the distance, and the watery stench of fish filled the November air. Everything looked perfectly normal, and my gaze moved over to a ship tied to a dock that stretched out into the Summanus River.
The vessel was the biggest one along the riverfront, with masts that towered high in the air. The ship’s hull might have been a bright cobalt at one time, although the elements had weathered and dulled the wood to the same murky blue gray as the river. The only real bits of color were the bloodred letters on the side that spelled out the vessel’s name—The Drowned Man. I hoped the name was an omen of things to come, although drowning would be a much quicker and far more merciful death than what my prey deserved.
“Do you really think Milo is on that ship?” a voice murmured.
I glanced over at the woman crouching beside me. She was wearing a dark green cloak over a matching tunic, along with black leggings and boots, and a sword dangled from her black leather belt. Her long black hair was pulled back into a fishtail braid, and her emerald-green eyes and golden skin gleamed in the growing dawn, as did the dragon face with emerald-green scales and black eyes that adorned her right hand. All morphs had some sort of tattoo-like mark on their bodies that indicated what larger, stronger creature was lurking inside them.
Despite the burgeoning light, Lady Reiko Yamato, my friend and fellow spy, remained almost invisible in the departing shadows. Even though I was dressed the same way, in a dark blue cloak and tunic, I felt as exposed as a gladiator standing in the middle of an arena floor. But even if the noontime sun had been shining brightly, Reiko still would have found a way to blend in to her surroundings. She was simply that skilled a spy—the best, in my opinion.
Reiko and I had been watching The Drowned Man for more than half an hour. No one had approached the vessel, and no one had appeared on the deck. The riverfront was eerily quiet, except for the steady slap-slap-slap of water up against the ship’s hull and the whistling breeze that ruffled its dingy sails.
“Do you really think Milo is on that ship?” Reiko repeated.
“Let me see if I can find out.”
I drew in a deep breath, then exhaled, reached out with my magic, and scanned the ship. As a mind magier, I could sense when other people were nearby, especially if I’d had dealings with them before. Unfortunately, I knew Crown Prince Milo Maximus Moreland Morricone of Morta far better than I wanted to.
A few months ago, dozens of merchants, miners, and guards had been killed along the Andvari-Morta border. Some had died in a bandit attack. Others in a mine collapse. And several people had been swept away by a violent, sudden storm. King Heinrich and Crown Prince Dominic Ripley, my grandfather and father, had assumed the incidents were senseless tragedies, but the deaths of so many people so close together had struck me as extremely suspicious. As Princess Gemma, I had visited each site to offer my condolences to the victims’ families, and I’d discovered something deeply concerning—large amounts of tearstone had been stolen at every spot.
My investigation had eventually led me to Blauberg, a city near the Andvari-Morta border. As Miner Gemma, I’d gone undercover and realized that Conley, the mine foreman, was stealing and selling tearstone to Mortan guards. Conley had shoved me into a chasm and left me for dead, but I’d been rescued and taken to Myrkvior, the royal palace in Majesta, the capital city of Morta.
Despite the danger, being at Myrkvior had been a golden opportunity to figure out which Mortan was ultimately stockpiling the tearstone and why, so I had played yet another part—Armina, a noble lady and jewelry maker. But my disguise wasn’t as good as I’d thought, and Queen Maeven Morricone had revealed my true identity as Princess Gemma Ripley at her own birthday ball.
And then she had let Milo torture me.
The riverfront flickered and vanished, along with The Drowned Man. Suddenly, I was back in Milo’s workshop, staring down at my own unconscious body chained to a table. Whipped back, punctured hands, burned skin. Blood dripped out of my wounds and hit the stone, every soft drop-drop-drop blaring as loud as a bell in my mind. Even though the torture had happened a couple of months ago, my heart still picked up speed, my breath puffed out in ragged gasps, and sweat prickled the back of my neck.
Desperate to stave off more unwanted memories, I grabbed the silver pendant hanging off the chain around my neck and focused on the bits of black jet that glittered in the shape of a snarling gargoyle face—the Ripley royal crest. Tiny midnight-blue shards of tearstone formed the gargoyle’s horns, eyes, nose, and teeth, turning the crest into the face of Grimley, my own beloved gargoyle. The same jeweled crest was embedded in the light gray tearstone dagger hanging off my belt. Alvis, the Glitnir royal jeweler, had made the pendant and the dagger for me years ago, when I was first learning how to control my mind magier magic—something I still struggled with to this day.
I squeezed the pendant tight, making a dull ache ripple through my fingers. That uncomfortable sensation, combined with the sharp prick of the jewels against my skin, helped me force the memories away. Milo’s workshop vanished, and the riverfront snapped back into focus, although the abrupt change in scenery made my head spin.
“Gemma?” Reiko asked. “Are you okay?”
“Fine,” I lied.
I released the necklace. The soft, familiar thump of the pendant against my heart further steadied me, and my head slowly stopped spinning.
Reiko arched an eyebrow, clearly not believing my lie, but I ignored her concerned look. Compared to all the times when my magic threw me back into the distant past and completely immersed and overwhelmed me with memories, this brief glimpse of my own tortured self was a relatively minor annoyance.
“If you’re so fine, then why are you rubbing your hands?” she asked.
I had been massaging first one palm, then the other, trying to rub the dull aches out of my hands and snuff out the hot sparks of phantom pain twinging my fingertips. I froze mid-rub and lowered my arms to my sides.
Reiko’s face remained blank, but her inner dragon grimaced, and its black gaze skittered away from mine. Milo’s barbed arrows and lightning magic had scarred my hands, both front and back, as though someone had painted vivid red starbursts onto my skin.
My fingers clenched into fists, reigniting those du
So I exhaled and reached out with my magic again. This time, the riverfront remained still and solid, and I examined the ship.
In addition to telling when other people were nearby, I could also hear their thoughts and sense their emotions. Ironically enough, given our current location, I had always pictured that aspect of my mind magier magic as though I were leaning over the deck of my own tiny internal ship and dipping my fingers into the sea of other people’s musings and feelings, which constantly churned around me.
Right now, that sea was utterly calm, and I didn’t hear any whispered thoughts or sense so much as a flicker of emotion. No sizzling anger, no icy malevolence, nothing that would indicate Milo or anyone else was nearby. The ship could be completely empty or full of sleeping sailors.
I let out a frustrated breath, released my power, and shook my head. “I don’t think he’s on the ship, but I can’t be certain. Not without us actually going on board and searching the vessel.”
Reiko’s hand dropped to her sword. “Well, we might as well get on with it.”
This time, I arched an eyebrow at her. “Isn’t this the point where you tell me it might be a trap? That Milo might have a dozen men hiding belowdecks just waiting to rush out and kill us?”
She snorted. “If I have to tell you that, then you haven’t been paying attention to everything that’s happened, especially a few weeks ago during the Summit.”
I grimaced. The Summit was supposed to be a peaceful meeting of nobles, merchants, guilders, and leaders of the various kingdoms to discuss trade agreements—but this year, it had devolved into a bloodbath.
Milo had attended the Summit as part of the Mortan contingent, and he had been working with Corvina Dumond, his fiancée and a powerful weather magier. Milo had wanted Corvina to kill me, along with his younger half brother, Leonidas, but the noble lady had been determined to kill all the Morricones, especially Queen Maeven, and capture the Mortan crown for herself.
During the Summit, Corvina had ordered the Dumond fighters to attack all the other royals in attendance, including my father. I’d managed to kill Corvina, but Milo had escaped, along with Captain Wexel, his loyal guard and Corvina’s secret lover.
Afterward, Crown Prince Dominic Ripley had joined forces with some of the other royals to put an enormous bounty on Milo—one hundred thousand gold crowns. According to my sources, every bounty hunter and mercenary on the Buchovian continent was searching for Milo so they could collect the reward.
And I had joined their ranks.
In public, Princess Gemma was performing her usual duties as a traveling ambassador, going from city to city in Andvari and meeting with nobles, merchants, and the like. But in private, Reiko and I had spent the last few weeks tracking Milo from one hiding spot to the next. A deserted farm just outside of Caldwell. An inn near Haverton. A tavern on the outskirts of Blauberg. The crown prince had been running like a deer, trying to escape the bounty hunters’ greed, as well as the wildfire of my wrath.
I reached out to every source I had in every city we visited, asking for news and gossip, and I had read dozens of letters from people all across Buchovia, scanning them for the smallest scrap of information about Milo and Wexel. A couple of times, Reiko and I had gotten oh so close to the Mortans, missing them by mere hours, which only added to my anger and frustration.
I might have embraced this new bounty-hunter persona, but I didn’t care about collecting any reward. I just wanted to find and kill Milo before he hurt anyone else.
Especially my gargoyles.
Despite the bloodshed at the Summit, I had finally figured out one of Milo’s main goals—to slaughter Andvarian gargoyles. With their stone skin, gargoyles were largely indestructible, although they were vulnerable to the crown prince’s tearstone arrows, which were coated with dried fool’s bane flowers.
I still wasn’t sure how killing gargoyles would help Milo conquer my kingdom, but I was certain it was only part of some larger, deadlier scheme, which is why I wanted to find and eliminate him as soon as possible.
“Gemma?” Reiko asked. “Are you ready to search the ship?”
I shoved my dark thoughts away. “You’re not usually so eager to walk into a potential trap. Most of the time, you’re trying to talk me out of doing something reckless.”
“True. But I also know exactly what you’ll say.” She waggled her eyebrows. “Come on. Say it with me. That boarding the ship is . . .”
I rolled my eyes, but I joined in with her words. “Worth the risk.”
Reiko grinned. “Exactly! So we might as well sneak on board, spring whatever trap Milo and Wexel might have left behind, and get on with our day. If we hurry, we can return to Glitnir before the cook masters run out of those delicious apple-cinnamon scones.”
“Your love of sweet cakes is going to get you in trouble someday,” I teased.
Reiko’s grin widened. “Maybe. Either way, I want some of those scones, so let’s go. Traps and sweet cakes await!”
She stood up, drew her sword, and moved forward. I rolled my eyes again, but a smile spread across my face as I plucked my dagger off my belt and followed my friend.
* * *
Reiko slid from one shadow to the next, as silent as smoke snaking through the air. I crept along behind her, but my boots scraped across the flagstones, making far too much noise. If Milo and Wexel were hiding on The Drowned Man, then they were certain to hear me coming.
As we neared the ship, I reached out with my magic again. For the first time, I sensed several presences on board, like dim candles flickering in a dark room, but I didn’t feel the bright, hot sting of Milo’s lightning or the raw, brute force of Wexel’s strength magic. Perhaps the ship’s thick hull and the churning water were blocking my power.
We stepped onto the dock, and a wooden board creaked ominously under my weight.
Reiko shot me an annoyed look. “Do you have to be so bloody loud, Gemma? You’re tromping around like a gargoyle in a glass shop.”
“Sorry, your royal spyness,” I sniped back. “But some of us aren’t as light on our feet as dragons are.”
She huffed, as did the dragon on her hand, and moved forward. I sighed and followed her, once again trying to be as quiet as possible.
We quickly reached the gangplank that led up to the ship’s main deck. Reiko raised her eyebrows in a silent question, and I shrugged back. I still didn’t sense Milo anywhere nearby.
Yesterday, we’d come across an innkeeper in a nearby village who claimed he’d recently hosted a Mortan noble eager to book passage on a ship headed south from the docks here in Allentown. We’d arrived at the docks several hours ago, closer to midnight than morning. Everyone had already been in bed, which had made it easy for Reiko and me to break into and search the dockmaster’s office.
According to the records, The Drowned Man had sailed into Allentown early yesterday morning, unloaded its passengers and cargo, and taken the rest of the day to resupply. It was supposed to sail back down the Summanus River later today, on a return journey to Fortuna Island, and it was the only vessel here that was large enough to accommodate passengers. If the innkeeper’s information was correct, and Milo was planning to escape on The Drowned Man, then he was either already on board or he’d have to come here sometime soon.
Either way, this was the closest we’d been to him in weeks, and I was determined to finally catch him.
Reiko eased up the gangplank and stepped onto the ship. I followed her, for once managing to be almost as quiet as she was. Weapons in hand, we both glanced around the wide, rectangular deck.
Several barrels filled with arrows were spaced along the railing, with longbows propped up against the sides of the containers. Other barrels featured swords, while spears, many topped with wicked-looking barbs, were nestled in a net that was dangling from the main mast in the center of the deck. Still more spears gleamed a dull silver in another net that was close to the wheel on the starboard side of the ship.
