Chapter 16 Thessia #2
Ario looked to the gorgeous woman sitting next to him.
“You flatter me,” Ario pronounced elegantly. “It’s so rare to find a fan of my pursuits.”
Mona did not seem to understand he meant poetry. “I agree. The realm could use more fans of interesting people, couldn’t it?”
“Yes,” Ario concurred, eagerly now. “Tell me, Mona. Do you like snails?”
When Mona laughed, the sound sparkling like the finest crystals from Mythria’s famous caves, Thessia heard Galwell grunt.
In . . . displeasure. Glancing the hero’s way, Thessia found Galwell glaring at Ario. What has gotten into him? she wondered.
Interrupting Mona’s flirtation with the young royal, guards approached Ario. With them, the crowd’s fervor swelled. Thessia
heard cries of I love you! and Sign my horseball!—not to mention exhortations for signatures of a more intimate nature.
When the phalanx parted, Thessia understood why. Prince Ezio stood in the soldiers’ midst.
“Brother!” he called out. “We must pose for conjurations— Yes, thank you, you’re very kind,” Ezio replied to a woman holding
forth her infant for him to kiss and saying he made her feel proud to be Vestriyan.
Ario slouched. “Must I?”
“Yes, you must,” Ezio replied patiently. “I know you would prefer to be socializing or . . . spying or some such, but posing
for conjurations with donors will help fund my efforts to remove toxic sludge from our canals. Don’t you want the children
of Vestriya to be able to swim again, brother?” He caught Thessia’s eye, his golden irises gleaming in the midday sun. “While
it would certainly be pleasant to stay and pass the game with such a lovely Mythrian royal—”
He gestured to the clamor surrounding him. “Ezio! Ezio! Ezio!” the people had commenced chanting, as if they were here to see him and not the Realm Chalice at all.
“So many causes,” Ezio said. “So little time.”
Thessia smiled. “Of course,” she replied. It was . . . heartening. Thessia had seen enough of Vestriya’s dark corners to comprehend
that Ezio meant more to Vestriya than personality or public service. To these people, he was hope.
Ario rose reluctantly. “I’ll return shortly, and we can discuss our mutual pursuits,” he promised Mona, who nodded.
While the princes headed to the other end of the Notable Persons box, Mona turned to their questing party.
Mona’s gaze followed her silver-haired suitor. “I must admit, there’s a unique sexiness to a debauched poet, isn’t there?”
“You knew the spymaster was a harmless poet all along?” Thessia asked.
Mona grinned, looking much more like a spymaster than Ario, even as he was dressed in all black. “I heard you had fun with
the harpies,” she cooed.
Galwell grunted in displeasure again.
Thessia whirled to face him. Hugh eyed their friend more inconspicuously. “Are you quite all right?” he inquired.
“I’m going to get some shankfry,” Galwell grumbled.
“Take Hugh or Mona with you,” Thessia commanded.
Galwell’s face hardened. “I can manage the concession line on my own. I’m not a child.”
“Let him,” Mona said quietly, watching him rise from his seat. “I’ll keep listening to his thoughts to keep him safe. It’s
better if he’s seen alone for a moment anyway.”
Thessia didn’t like the suggestion, but Galwell was already fleeing the Notable Persons section in such a hurry that he collided
with the usher come to replenish everyone’s mead.
“Pardon—pardon me,” Galwell said, clasping the man’s forearm to steady them.
“It’s no problem, noble sir,” the usher replied. “I bumped into you.”
Now Thessia knew for certain something was wrong. Galwell was never clumsy. Though she guessed his quest for shankfry was in earnest—Galwell loved the peasant delicacy of gryphon shank fried
in sizzling batter on a wooden stick—she doubted stadium concessions had driven him from their company.
“Why’s he so upset?” she wondered out loud.
“Oh, I expect he’s jealous,” Mona replied genially. “We had some fun last night, and I guess he thought it was some commitment
it wasn’t.”
Thessia exchanged glances with Hugh, their eyes widening in unison. Galwell and Mona?
“What . . . sort of fun?” Hugh got out.
Mona smirked. “In horseball terms, we reached second horse arch,” she confirmed.
Now Thessia laughed. It was just—it was ridiculous, and ridiculously delightful. She’d known, obviously, of the limited romantic
history Galwell possessed. If he wanted to have some second-horse-arch fun with Mona, he was more than entitled.
Hugh met the queen’s eyes, and then he was laughing with her. She hadn’t expected her jubilation to charm him, yet there they
were, charming each other.
Without prologue, rhythmic pounding filled the stadium.
Thessia knew the source. With excitement fluttering in her secret-horseball-fan heart, she looked to the field, where the
field guard had commenced the pregame introduction. Custom in every major horseball match was for the finest percussionists
in the city to kick off play by drumming crestoak staves on stone slabs. They were magicked to echo their rhythms stadium-wide.
“Vestriyans! Visitors! Spectators young and old!”
The announcer’s amplified voice boomed throughout the stadium. Thessia leaned forward.
“To commence our sport, we are pleased to invite an honored guest to pitch the first chuck-up!” the announcer declared.
Where was Galwell? Thessia wondered. He would miss the opening minutes!
“He hails from Mythria,” the announcer continued, “he’s a supporter of the Farmount Falcons, and he once saved his realm!
Please put your hands together for . . .”
Thessia straightened, startled. No, it couldn’t be—
“Galwell the Great!” cried the announcer.
Hugh and Mona looked perplexed, just like Thessia. This, the queen knew with certainty, was not the plan. Although it wasn’t a bad idea—perhaps Galwell took this upon himself to organize. To make sure all his enemies
knew exactly where he was.
The hero strode onto the eye-wateringly green grass of the horseball pitch under the perfect midmorning sun. He smiled grandly,
waving to the crowds with none of his recent unpleasantness. Honestly, Thessia felt he was doing a passable impression of
Clare.
“Did you know about this?” Hugh inquired.
“No,” Thessia replied. “Not at all. Perhaps it was scheming from my press positioners.” Oh, if this was the case, they were so fired, she noted to herself.
The questing party watched Galwell receive from the referee the hard, duramelon-sized horseball. He waved once more to the
crowd. Everyone cheered. The horses lined up on the pitch’s chalked center divider, ready to scrum for the ball Galwell would
hurl into their midst. The hero positioned the horseball in his powerful hands, wound up—
And at the last moment, he pivoted. With deadly intensity, he threw the horseball directly at the Notable Persons box.
Given Galwell’s powerful strength, the projectile flew impossibly, lethally fast. The impact was nearly instantaneous, the crack echoing in the stadium when the horseball struck Crown Prince Ezio in the head.
Chaos unfolded. Everyone screamed. Thessia’s heart leapt into her throat. Over the clamor of thousands of frantic spectators,
she could still hear the sound of the bone-breaking strike resounding in her ears.
People were jumping up and fleeing the stadium. But Thessia could not move. The whole pitch seemed to wobble and slant in
her vision, dizziness descending over her. Struggling for composure, she saw Ario. He’d caught his brother and was shaking
the elder prince’s form like he sought to wake him.
Ezio slumped in Ario’s grasp, unmoving. Crimson streaked his forehead, starting to stain Ario’s hands and the silver of his
hair. There would be no recovering from the impossibly hard throw.
A throw, Thessia knew with damning conviction, that could have only been made with Galwell’s hand-magical gift of strength.
On the field, the horses stomped and whinnied, hearing the crowd’s panic. Guards rushed forth into the box, shoving Notable
Persons out of the way as they moved to conceal the princes from view. Galwell—where was Galwell? Dizzy with fear, Thessia
realized she was clutching Hugh’s hand with white knuckles.
She could not let go. “Surely it was . . . a mistake,” she got out.
“He doesn’t make mistakes,” Hugh returned gravely.
Mona stood behind them. Thessia was distantly surprised to find even the criminal mastermind’s face shockingly pale. “Yes,
but he’d also never do this. He’d never kill someone unless he had to. He’s too . . . good,” she insisted, struggling with
the word.
When the guards parted, Ezio was gone. She watched as Ario followed them out, his face twisted in concern, tears in his eyes.
Thessia was profoundly shaken. The a-word was not one political leaders liked to contemplate, but Thessia had when her military commanders had given her imperative instructions on her public safety.
She considered it now. They’d witnessed the successful assassination of Vestriya’s crown prince.
And their friend—their good, kind, noble friend—had done the deed.
“Maybe the injury wasn’t as bad as it looked?” Thessia managed.
“It was worse,” Mona replied. Her color had not returned. Her voice wavered.
Thessia shivered involuntarily.
While clamor and fear unfolded around them, Thessia reminded herself that she was no idle spectator. She was the queen of
Mythria. She needed to remain collected in crisis.
River had seen people die, many people. Vandra Ravenfall, Beatrice, Clare—they’d witnessed horrific things. Reminding herself
of how they’d carried on, Thessia rose from her seat, refusing to let her fear stop her.
“Come,” she ordered Hugh, grasping his arm. “We must find Galwell right now.”
They fled the box, only for Thessia to realize—this was easier declared than done.
Chaos continued to unfold on the field. Guards rushed in from every direction. While some guests remained, looking unnerved,
most sought to flee the stadium. Horses continued to wheel and whinny on the horseball pitch.
In the midst of it all, Galwell was nowhere to be found.