The foreman stared down at the fallen prince “This is not part of our arrangement. Wexel should have given me an extra bag of gold for cleaning up his mess.”
Conley huffed in aggravation, then stabbed his finger at Penelope and me. The motion made the coins tink-tink-tink together inside the satchel still hanging off his shoulder. “You two. Load the body into one of the wheelbarrows, and get rid of it. Then bring both wheelbarrows back to the mine. And be quick about it.”
Penelope bobbed her head. “Yes, sir.”
Conley eyed Penelope, but he must have heard the tremble in her voice and seen how badly her hands were shaking, because he fixed his gaze on me. I bobbed my head as well, as though I were as frightened as she was.
He jerked his head at the other men. “Fun’s over. Back to work. You can all pick up your cut of the gold at the end of your shifts.”
Conley walked across the clearing, waddling under the weight of his gold-laden satchel, and vanished into the trees. The other miners followed him, leaving Penelope and me behind. The second Conley and his men were gone, I whirled around to her.
“What have you gotten me into?” I hissed. “I thought we were just helping the foreman. I didn’t know about any of this!”
I gestured at Leonidas, still unconscious on the ground.
Penelope blanched. “I’m sorry, Gemma. So sorry! I didn’t know the Mortans were going to kill somebody. I swear! I thought the exchange would take place just like usual.”
Her words snuffed out my faint hope that Conley had picked us out at random to help with his scheme. “Like usual?”
“Yeah. I thought Conley would give the tearstone to some Mortan guards. I didn’t know a Mortan captain was going to be here. Conley must have been worried about getting double-crossed. That’s probably why he brought us along, as a show of strength.”
“Oh, please,” I snapped. “Conley would have shoved us into the guards’ swords while he ran away. We were nothing more than human shields.”
Penelope winced. “Well, it all worked out okay. Right?”
Anger exploded in my chest, and I struggled to keep my voice calm. “How long has this been going on?”
“I don’t know how long Conley has been siphoning tearstone from the mine, but I’ve been helping him for the last three weeks.”
“Why?”
Penelope sighed. “Because my daughter fell out of a tree while she was playing and broke her leg. It was a really bad break, and she was in a lot of pain. I got her as much medicine as I could, but I didn’t have enough money to get her leg properly set by a bone master, so I asked Conley if I could work some extra shifts. He said that if I helped him with a special project that he would give me more than enough money to heal my daughter.”
Understanding trickled through me, cooling some of my anger. I might have done the same if someone I loved had been hurt.
I reached out with my magic, checking on Leonidas.
Thump-thump-thump. His heart was still beating at that slow, steady pace, and he didn’t seem to be getting any weaker.
I needed to get him out of here, so I could try to heal him, but I also needed more information about Conley’s treachery. I wavered, torn between helping Leonidas and furthering my own mission. But protecting my people from the Mortans was more important than the life of one man, especially this man, so I focused on Penelope again.
“What did you do for Conley? Before today?”
“At first, he asked me to smuggle tearstone out of the shaft. Just what I could fit into my pockets. I would hide the pieces in my locker, and he would collect them at night, after everyone else had left.” Penelope shrugged. “I didn’t think it was a big deal. What’s a couple of missing rocks here and there?”
More anger spiked through me. It wasn’t just a couple of missing rocks. Conley’s entire crew was probably stealing tearstone. All those chunks of ore had added up to those two wheelbarrows today, and there was no telling how much more Conley had already sold to the Mortans.
“So you stole tearstone for a while, then Conley started bringing you along to deliver it—to Mortan guards.”
Penelope flinched at my harsh accusation, but then she crossed her arms over her chest. “Yes, Mortan guards. They work for the Morricones just like I work for the Ripleys. What does it matter who gets the tearstone? Morricones, Ripleys, Rubins, Blairs. They’re all the same. Sure, they let us work in their mines and fight in their gladiator arenas, but the royals don’t care anything about us, about common folk like you and me.”
I blinked, shocked by the heat and especially the venom in her voice. “That’s not true. Heinrich is a good king. He cares about his people and tries to do what’s best for them.”
“Maybe he does, but Heinrich is still sitting in his palace while you and I are down in the dirt in the dark,” Penelope said, her tone even more bitter and caustic than before. “And do you really think Princess Glitzma concerns herself with what’s best for us common folk?”
A loud, derisive snort erupted out of her mouth. “Not a chance. All Glitzma cares about is draping herself in pretty gowns and sparkling jewels—jewels that we pry out of the mountains for her.”
This time, I was the one who flinched. A few years ago, a noble lady had snidely called me Glitzma during a royal ball, saying that the glittering diamonds on my gown nearly blinded her. The nickname had stuck and spread through Andvari and all the other kingdoms even faster than the cursed “Bluest Crown” song.
At first, the nickname had amused me, and I had thoroughly embraced it, using it to further cultivate my pampered princess persona and create an even better cover for my spy missions. But lately, Glitzma had started to bother me. Oh, some people used the term to mock and belittle me, especially in their own minds, where they thought I couldn’t hear, but even when folks said it with kindness and affection, the nickname still grated on my heart.
It seemed as though I had done my job far too well, and no one thought I was anything more than a lovely doll to admire. Or perhaps I just wanted someone to peer beneath the pretty gowns and sparkling jewels and see the real me—and accept me despite all my worries, quirks, and especially my fears that I wasn’t good enough, strong enough, to be queen of Andvari.
That no matter how much information I gathered, and how many missions I went on, and how many schemes I thwarted, that I would never be able to atone for my shameful inaction during the Seven Spire massacre. That I truly was a coward at heart, with magic that I couldn’t fully control, who would only let people down, who would only let them die, just as I had during the massacre.
Penelope sighed again, and some of the anger leaked out of her body. “Forget about the Ripleys. They’re not here, so they don’t matter. The simple truth is this—if I hadn’t done what Conley wanted, then he would have just found someone else to help him. And then he would have made things even worse for me at the mine.”
Her regret clamped around my heart like a vise. She truly was sorry about everything she’d done. Perhaps she’d also been scared, especially after what had happened to Clarissa. Either way, I’d gotten some information out of Penelope, and now I needed to focus on the person who might be able to give me even more—Leonidas Morricone.