Page 74 of The Dragon and the Dove

The room was larger than he had expected. Not a private study but a kind of archive. To the right, chalices and crowns sat along a long shelf. He drifted towards a bronze circlet, fingering a peridot the size of his thumbnail. Still bright.

A plaque beneath read:

The Coronation Crown of King Bertrand I,

the first ruler of the Kingdom of Valterre

Heat stirred, the old voice hissing:

Take it.

Claim it.

You will wear it well.

Theo stepped back. ‘No.’

The word echoed back at him.

Coward.

He turned, making for the other wall, where shields and helmets had been mounted. At the end of the line hung a mighty sword. His reflection glimmered in the blade, his gold eyes hungry.

The plaque read:

Fatebringer,

favoured battlesword of Cadel, Saint of Warriors

Take it, urged the old voice.

His fingers itched, rising of their own accord.

A great leader needs a great sword.

That word hummed in his bones: great.

The sword gleamed. Even now, magic moved beneath the blade. Not steelfire but something older. Truer. A remnant of its wielder.

A voice echoed from the shadows. ‘See something you like, Versini?’

Theo spun on his heel.

Prince Andreas Mondragon Rayere was standing at the other end of the room. With his back to the window, he perched lightly on the sill, watching him.

He must have been here all along.

‘Take it if you like. Consider it a gift.’

‘I don’t want it,’ said Theo, stiffly. ‘And it’s not yours to give.’

The prince’s smile was serpentine. Though Andreas had not deigned to attend his own ball, the Silver-tongue Saint was dressed just as finely as his guests in a crisp crimson suit with velvet lapels. His mask, a canvas of large black feathers and gleaming rubies, was pushed up onto his forehead.

A Strix.

How… Urnican.

Canting his head, the prince said, ‘Here we are, all alone together. Aren’t you at least going to attempt to kill me?’