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They’d shared every day, every dream . . . every secret. However, it would appear, not every secret. This was not something Jana would have ever thought to try to foresee. “Why would you betray me like this?” she managed. “You’re my sister.” Sabina wiped away the blood that still trickled from her nose. “For love.”
“A year can be a blissful eternity.” Aron grinned. “I plan to cling to my youth and lack of responsibility for the year I have left.”
But people—at least, Cleo—didn’t drink it for the taste; they drank it for the intoxicating results, the feeling of not a care in the world. Such a feeling, without an anchor to hold one close to shore, could lead one to drift into dangerous territory. And Cleo wasn’t in any hurry to sip anything stronger than water or peach juice in the foreseeable future.
“Bastard?” Aron’s voice had turned to ice. “Who are you calling a bastard, peasant?” Tomas turned slowly, anger brimming in his gaze. “My brother was calling you a bastard. Bastard.” And this, Cleo thought with a sinking feeling, was the absolute worst thing someone could ever call Aron. It wasn’t common knowledge, but he was a bastard.
They fled the market while Jonas’s enraged words pursued them. “You’re dead! I’ll kill you for this! Both of you!” “He deserved it,” Aron growled. “He was going to try to kill me. I was defending myself.” “Keep going, your lordship,” grunted Theon, sounding disgusted. They pushed their way through the crowd, making their stumbling way onto the road back to the ship. Tomas would never live to see his sister get married. Felicia witnessed her brother’s murder on her wedding day.
“Ah. I’ve found rumors have much in common with feathers. It’s rare that either holds much weight.”
Music was banned, as was singing and dancing. Only the most educational books were allowed within the Limeros palace, nothing that simply told a tale for entertainment’s sake. King Gaius cared only for the Limerian ideals of strength, faith, and wisdom—not art, beauty, or pleasure.
Limeros froze over each year, and its spring and summer were now only a couple short months long. Paelsia was withering away, its ground dry and parched. Only southern Auranos showed no outward sign of decay
She gave him a comforting smile that made something inside him twist. Something he tried very hard to ignore.
How he felt for Lucia was only the love of a brother for his sister. That lie did feel smooth. Even when he told it to himself.
“Sometimes you need to try to believe in something bigger than yourself, Magnus. Something you can’t see or touch. To allow your heart to have faith no matter what. It’s what will give you strength in troubled times.”
Amia believed he would keep her indefinitely as his mistress. In that she was destined to be disappointed. Unless the girl stood directly in front of him as she did right now, he tended to forget she existed.
“As the king wishes, I obey,” he said evenly. “Will you obey me?” “Within reason.” “What does that mean?” Nic asked. His dark eyes shot to the redheaded boy. “It means that if the princess puts herself into harm’s way, I’ll intervene without a second thought. I won’t have another incident like last week. That murder could have been avoided if I’d been given the chance to stop it.” Guilt had taken up a permanent place inside Cleo, burrowing deep into her heart. She dropped all teasing. “Aron never should have killed that boy.” He glared at her. “Good to know that we agree on something.”
“The loss of a brother is painful, no matter how he meets his end,” Brion said after a moment. “And so is the loss of a friend.”
Killing the royals, Jonas was realizing soberly, would have been a glorious moment of vengeance—a blaze of glory. But it would do nothing to help his people chart a new course for a brighter future. That was what Tomas would have wanted above all else.
Cleo smiled pleadingly. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. He’ll never even know I was gone.” “And what do you suggest I tell him if he decides to check in on us?” “That I suddenly discovered I had air magic or something and made myself disappear.”
“He was coming at me. You saw it yourself.” “He didn’t have a weapon!” “He had fists. He had rage. He could have strangled me right where I stood.”
“I don’t like death.” He laughed and she gave him a sharp look. He sobered immediately. “Apologies, but of course you don’t like death. Who does? It’s messy and it’s unpleasant, but it happens. Often.”
He fixed her with a steady look. “Would you rather I lie and say I have nightmares too? Would that ease your own guilt?” She deflated. That had been exactly what she’d wanted. “I want the truth.” “And that’s what I’ve given you. You should be grateful, Cleo. There aren’t too many people who speak the truth around here, even when they’re asked for it.”
She barely remembered that night six months ago, only that there was wine—too much of it. And lips that tasted like smoke. A fumbling of hands, of clothes, of lies whispered in the darkness. A proper girl—a princess—was meant to remain pure and untouched until her wedding night—her virginity a gift to her husband. That Cleo had made such a mistake with someone like Aron, whom she could barely tolerate while sober, shamed her like nothing else.
“You’re not happy about the engagement?” His tone had regained its hard edge. “Not happy about being forced into doing something that I have absolutely no say about? No, I can’t say that I am.”
You’re not just any girl; you’re the princess. It’s my sole duty now to protect you. So wherever you run off to, you can be certain of one very important thing.” She waited, her breath catching at the intense way the handsome young guard watched her. “And what’s that?” When he smiled, the look was equally menacing and enticing. “I will find you.”
“What are you reading?” “Nothing of any importance.” “Mmm.” He raised a brow and held his hand out to her patiently. Sometimes Lucia didn’t like how well her older brother knew her.
Cleiona was the rival goddess to Valoria. One was thought of as good; one was believed to be evil. But this difference depended entirely upon in which kingdom one stood.
The two kings had come nearly to blows due to a mysterious injury Magnus had received during the visit. King Gaius hadn’t returned since. Nor had he been invited. The reminder of this trip made Magnus absently touch his scar—one that stretched from the top of his right ear to the corner of his mouth.
Something was troubling her brother. She’d noticed it lately, each day worse than the last. He seemed distracted and deeply distressed by something, and she wished she knew what it was. She hated to see him so upset and not know how to help ease his pain.
Magnus had no patience for anyone who would be manipulated so easily. If the boy was truly interested in Lucia, he should be able to stand up to any adversity, including an overprotective older brother.
His clothes were finely made, stitched from soft leathers and silver fox fur. He looked more like a king than Magnus expected. He would have to guess that Basilius did not suffer the same lifestyle in his compound as the commoners of Paelsia.
His father caught him as he drew the dagger from its case. The king had been so enraged that his son would steal, potentially damaging his family name in the process, that he’d lashed out. Magnus’s punishment came via the blade itself. His father ripped it out of his son’s hands and slashed its sharp edge across Magnus’s face. Immediately, he’d regretted his violent turn. But instead of helping Magnus and bandaging the wound, he’d knelt down before his son and spoken in a low, dangerous tone while blood dripped from the little boy’s cheek and onto the shiny marble floor of the Auranian palace.
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“Tobias,” the king said evenly. “Yes, your majesty?” “I do regret the necessity of this.” The king swiftly moved behind the boy, pulled his head back, and slashed the blade across his throat.
“He was your valet, was he not?” the chief asked. The king’s face was tight. “He was.” “More than that, if the rumors hold true.” King Gaius did not reply to this.
I knew it was wrong, that a match like this would never be allowed, but when our hearts go on such a journey, all we can do is try to hold on tight.
“Perhaps her magic cannot reach that far. But legend has it that the seeds she possesses have the ability to heal even the more dire illnesses.” “And who is this woman that she’d have such magic at her disposal?” Emilia looked reluctant to say anything else. “Well?” Cleo persisted. “An exiled Watcher. One who left the Sanctuary many years ago.”
It was said to be originally from the Sanctuary itself—a legendary place of magic hidden in the Forbidden Mountains from which eternal mystical beings watched over the mortal world. Some more obscure texts that Lucia had read said that to encounter such a wheel was to discover a location marked by Watchers as a clue to find the lost Kindred—which could be a blessing or a curse, depending on the myths one believed.
“What is it?” Magnus asked. “Chief Basilius has officially agreed to join forces with Limeros. He likes my plan.” His jaw tensed. “And he was deeply honored by my sacrifice.”
“I spoke with Michol earlier.” His dark brows drew together. “Michol?” “Fine boy,” the king said with a nod. “I believe he’s smitten with you, daughter.” Clarity shone in Magnus’s eyes. “He visited you, did he?” “He told me of the talk you had together.” Her words were clipped. “Care to elaborate?” A smile twitched at his lips. “Not really.” She glared at him. How dare he find this even slightly amusing?
Magnus was challenging, annoying, opinionated, and relied on his masks to hide his true feelings from the world far too much. But she still loved him and knew without a doubt that she would do anything for him, even when he tested her patience. And she would tell him her secret the next time she had the opportunity. Maybe then he’d tell her what had been troubling him lately. Even now as he gazed down at her holding his gift, there was a deep and bottomless sadness in his eyes.
The king just looked at her patiently, seemingly undisturbed by the threat. “You’d never do that.” “I wouldn’t? I—I could do it tonight. I could throw myself down the stairs. I could stop eating. I could . . . well, there are many, many ways I could end my life if I wanted to!” He shook his head. “You wouldn’t, because you don’t really want to die. You don’t just live, Cleo. Life itself sings from your existence.”
“Don’t lie. I know you think I’m a spoiled brat who only wants things her way.” “I never said that. And I don’t think that. You are stubborn, but . . . well, let’s just say that being stubborn isn’t always a bad thing when it’s for the right reason.” “My father said that I act overly dramatic to gain attention.” She bit her bottom lip, doubting herself. Was that really how the king had always viewed her? No wonder when she’d asked for something so important he’d found it easy to turn her down. “I must respectfully disagree with the king on this.” Theon shook his head and drew his gaze to her
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“You don’t think witches are evil?” Her blue eyes held deep uncertainty—and hope. She’d been tormented by this secret she had held inside her for so long without anyone to help her. Magnus moved closer to her and cupped her face in his hands. “All I know is that you aren’t evil. You are wonderful in every possible way. And don’t you ever believe anything different from that or I’ll be very angry with you.”
“How could you let this happen?” the king raged, his face bright red with anger. Theon had no worthy answer. He knew Cleo wanted to do this. He knew she was stubborn and single-minded when it came to her sister’s fading health. He should have anticipated this.
“What have you been up to, Magnus? You’ve been keeping to yourself a great deal the last few days. You missed an opportunity to go out hunting with me again just this morning.” “I’ve been reading.” The king smiled, but the warmth of it didn’t reach his eyes. “I find that difficult to believe.” Magnus shrugged. “Did you just want to get an update on my hobbies or were we to discuss more important matters?” The king leaned back in his iron-and-black-leather throne and regarded his son. “You remind me so very much of myself at your age. It’s truly uncanny.” Magnus wasn’t sure if this was meant to
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The only way to get answers from this impossible man was to ask questions directly—while not appearing to really care about the answers, of course. If he seemed too eager, he knew his father would continue to withhold the truth from him indefinitely.
“I need to go.” Magnus turned to the door. His father clamped his hand down on his shoulder. “Ease your mind. I’ll tell no one of this. Your secret will remain safe from this day forward. But if you do everything I ask of you, I can promise you one thing. No man will ever touch her. If nothing else, you’ll be able to take solace in that.”
“Why would a Watcher be exiled from their home, anyway?” she asked. “They say that some fall in love with mortals and they leave voluntarily. Once they leave, they can never return.”
Limerians believed that Valoria was an ethereal being who embodied earth and water magic. Cleiona embodied fire and air. They were equally strong, but their violent rivalry caused them to destroy each other, at which time nearly all elementia was shut off from the mortal world.
Obsidian for earth, amber for fire, aquamarine for water, and moonstone for air. The magic could be seen inside the crystals, swirling around if you were to look closely.
“It was then that Eva made her choice. The thought of losing her baby was too much for her to bear. She took the Kindred from the four corners of the Sanctuary and brought them to the sisters in the mortal world. Each took two for themselves, and the moment they touched the stones, they were corrupted by the magic. It changed them forever.” “It turned them into goddesses,” Cleo said, barely breathing. “The sisters were Valoria and Cleiona.”
“I never said she was evil. Nor was she good. Even in the darkest and most cruel person, there is still a kernel of good. And within the most perfect champion, there is also darkness. The question is, will one give in to the dark or the light? It’s something we decide with every choice we make, every day that we exist. What might not be evil to you could be evil to someone else. Knowing this makes us powerful even without magic.”
“I appreciate the compliment,” he lied. “Aren’t you going to compliment me in return?” “I grow weary of games, Sabina. Either get to the point or leave.”
