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Lucia’s heart pounded loud as thunder in her ears. This is what my mother meant. She was right and everyone else was wrong. She felt the truth in the thought. And what scared her more than anything else that had happened today was that a small part of her didn’t care.
She ran over to her discarded banquet dress. Her amethyst ring glinted in the candlelight as she pulled out the gift Prince Ashur had given her. She slowly unwrapped it, only to see an unexpected edge of gold. It was a golden dagger. A beautiful one, with an artfully carved hilt and a curved blade. She remembered the prince’s words: “It is something given in my land to a bride on her wedding night.” With a chill she recognized its purpose: something that could be used by an unhappy bride to take her own life if she felt she had no other choice. Or . . . the life of her new husband.
“Someone poisoned him?” There was still that strange and unexpected pain in his eyes, but his mouth pressed into a hard line. “Not ‘someone.’ I saw him put the poison in the goblet, emptying it from a hollow ring. I watched him hand it to my grandfather. Watched my grandfather drink it.” Cleo was silent, listening. “And when my father saw that I’d seen what he did, he smiled as if I should approve. I didn’t understand at the time, but I do now. My father will do whatever it takes to rid himself of someone standing in his way. Nothing has changed. Nothing will ever change. Understand that,
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“I will never ask for your forgiveness for what I did.” Magnus looked away. “But I know I acted out of panic and cowardice that day. For that, and only that, I am ashamed of my actions.”
No wonder your heart is forged of ice.” This earned the edge of a very unpleasant grin. “Before, you said I had no heart. This is definite progress, princess.”
“My father wanted this union, not me. But this is what I must do to keep my position as his heir. One day everything my father has will be mine—his kingdom, his army, his power. I’m not risking that for anything or anyone. But let this much be crystal clear between us: I would sooner share flesh with a beast from the Wildlands than you. I believe its claws would be much less sharp.”
“Damn you, Jonas. I shouldn’t have bothered saving your arse just now. You don’t deserve it.” “You’re right, I don’t.” He swallowed hard, his jaw tight. “But now I need to get back to camp.” There was nothing more to say. Twenty rebel boys had offered to go with Jonas to the temple in hopes of a glorious victory against King Gaius. Thirty had remained behind at camp, continuing to practice and plan. Only Jonas had returned.
Disbelief clouded her thoughts. “You summoned him here so I wouldn’t be miserable.” Magnus’s upper lip thinned. “I need you to keep up your end of the bargain as we continue to feed these stupid people my father’s pretty lies. That’s all.” “Thank you,” she whispered, her throat tight at the thought that he’d do something so unexpectedly kind, despite his harsh words.
“Is there something wrong?” Magnus asked. “You’re upset.” Cleo wiped away a tear and didn’t bother looking directly at him. “Do you care?” “I care that a sobbing princess doesn’t present a very good picture of a happy marriage.” “I’m not sobbing.” She gave him a hard look. “Perhaps you’d prefer it if I were.” “Such belligerence, princess. Whatever have I done to deserve this today?” “You’re breathing.”
“You brought me for this tour of the maze not to help clear my head, but to delay your speech. It’s officially your first one, isn’t it? You’re nervous about it.” Magnus stared at her. “Don’t be ridiculous.” He said one thing yet acted another way. But she could suddenly see him clearly—clearer than ever before. “King Gaius adores the sound of his own voice. But you . . . you’re different.”
Her eyes widened. His own father cut him so horribly? “What crime did you commit as a child to warrant such a punishment?” His hand dropped to his side, his expression equal parts hard-edged and wistful. “For once in my life, I wanted to possess something beautiful, even if it meant I had to steal it. Clearly, I learned my lesson.”
“She didn’t want me to try to kill you.” The boy struggled against those who held him firmly in place. “I disagreed.” “She? Who are you talking about?” The would-be assassin raised his chin, his eyes cold and full of challenge. “The Watcher who speaks to me in dreams. Who guides me. Who gives me hope that not all is lost. Who tells me that that which is lost should never be found.”
“That son of a bitch shoved you,” Nic whispered to Cleo. “Are you all right?” “I’m fine.” But confusion still clouded her thoughts and not only about the boy’s claims. Magnus had acted instinctively at the sight of the dagger. He hadn’t shoved her to be cruel. He’d done it to . . . protect her.
The prince moved to the railing, holding up his hands to silence the crowd. And then he began to speak—confident, proud, and with command . . . or so it seemed. His mask was perfectly in place. He was Prince Magnus, heir to the throne. And he held his own, even a short time after an assassination attempt. Even Cleo had to admit that it was impressive. That he was impressive.
“I am certain that for every day of happiness the princess and I will share together, this kingdom will benefit in kind.” Oh, he was droll. And he knew it, too. There was now just the edge of humor in his gaze that he might ever refer to their forced union as a path to romantic bliss.
It was all too much—she wasn’t sure if she was pushing him away or pulling him closer. Much like diving into deep water, she had no idea which way would find her air to breathe or which way would drag her down deeper into the depths where she would surely drown. And for a moment, just a moment, she found it didn’t seem to matter. The warmth of his body against hers on such a cold day, his now-familiar scent of sandalwood, the heat of his mouth against hers . . . it all made her head spin, and logic fell away.
“You look ill. Is there something wrong with you?” Cleo asked. It was the first thing she’d said directly to him since the kiss he’d forced upon her yesterday. She’d hated it. And she hated him. So much is wrong with me, princess. Where do I even begin? “Nothing is wrong.”
She was every bit as beautiful as she ever had been—even more so than the last time he’d seen her, since the color she’d lost during her slumber had returned to her cheeks. Today, however, there was a thick layer of apathy on top of his appreciation for his adopted sister, much like storm clouds hiding the sun’s true brightness. This apathy had grown substantially in the time they’d been apart.
Magnus had to admit the girl was an excellent actress. With his lips pressed to hers, he could have sworn he tasted warm honey rather than cold venom in her response. And he also had to admit, if only to himself, that such unexpected sweetness had coaxed a much longer kiss than he’d originally planned. The princess was dangerous yet could appear so very innocent to one who didn’t know the truth—much like a spider and her shimmering web.
The boy was so very annoying, Magnus could barely form words to respond. “Oh, no? And, pray tell, Lord Aron, how would the king deal with this situation?” “Like this.” Aron had drawn out his sword and was holding it with both hands. Magnus’s chest tightened in sudden alarm. “Aron, don’t—” But he paid Magnus no attention. Without another word or another threat, and with his eyes glittering with excitement, Aron drove his sword through Brion’s heart.
He was angry with her now and hurt by her continual rejection of his love. Hopefully, when he returned at long last from the hunt, she could earn his forgiveness and make him see that though they could never be together, their filial relationship was more important than any other. She needed him and he needed her. There was no question that she had to put right between them what had gone so very wrong.
This was the distraction the king wanted so Magnus would no longer focus his unwanted attention upon Lucia. Princess Cleiona was just as beautiful as she’d heard. And Lucia found that she hated her immediately.
“I should probably leave you to your own book search. I’d say you have permission to borrow whatever you like, but I don’t suppose you need it, do you?” There was just a drop of acid contained within those words. Lucia was pleased by it; pleased to know that the girl was not all she appeared—a polite and perfectly poised princess. She wore masks, the same kind that Lucia and Magnus did.
The thought that she’d lost her brother’s confidence suddenly pained her, an ache she felt deep in her heart.
“I’ve heard things too. About you.” “Oh? Such as?” “I’m sure it’s a lie. Unlike some people, I prefer to make my own judgments, not have my head so easily filled with the gossip of servants.”
She didn’t want him romantically, but she didn’t want to lose him to this meaningless princess. Irrational—I’m being irrational. At that moment, she didn’t really care.
“My father has conquered many lands filled with great riches. He doesn’t believe Mytica is large enough to hold anything to be interested in. But he’s wrong. I believe Mytica is the most important realm that has ever existed. I believe Mytica is the gateway to great magic that lies dormant across all parts of this world, including Kraeshia. Therefore, I’m here to find out if the ‘silly’ legends are true. And one of those legends happens to concern a rather special ring.”
Something hadn’t sat right with him about Aron’s request to dine with Eugeneia. He didn’t trust the boy, not with a pretty girl like that. Not unchaperoned. “It’s none of your concern,” he told himself. This fact seemed to make little difference. He found himself at what he realized had been his destination all along.
When the sweat that now beaded on Aron’s forehead told more than words ever could, Magnus continued. “Ever since you executed the rebel I’ve had my suspicions. But they were only whispers in the back of my mind. You didn’t want Brion Radenos to keep talking, to convince me that Jonas had nothing to do with my mother’s murder. Because he didn’t, did he? You were the one who killed her. You killed her at my father’s command.”
But even the coldest hate can shift into something warmer if given enough time, just as an ugly caterpillar can turn into a beautiful butterfly.
Jonas shot a look toward Aron’s body, and his gaze snapped back to Magnus’s. “He killed my brother and my best friend.” “And now he’s dead. He received the same end I originally planned for you. Although, I must admit, I planned on making you suffer quite a bit longer.” “It was supposed to be my blade that took his life!” Magnus offered him a thin, humorless smile. “Get over it.”
“What else did this Watcher tell you?” Gregor’s brows drew together and he squeezed Lysandra’s hands. “She said when the sorceress’s blood is spilled and the sacrifice is made, they will finally be free.” Her brother’s haunted eyes met hers. “And the world will burn. That’s what she said, little Lys. The world will burn
“We didn’t get off on the right foot before, Lucia. I am sorry for that. But I do want to be your friend. You need someone you can trust. So do I.” She couldn’t lose her strength or her bravery now when she needed it most. “I know what you are and what you can do. You’re a sorceress.” Lucia’s eyes widened. “You know?” So it was true. This—this was what Cleo needed. This was the sign she’d been searching for, praying for. The missing piece of her puzzle. The ring was only half of it. Princess Lucia was the other half.
