Falling Kingdoms (Falling Kingdoms 1)

She was alone. She had only been dreaming.

The same nightmare had plagued her every night for a month. Ever since Tomas Agallon’s murder. So vivid. So real. But just a dream fueled by endless guilt. She let out a long, shaky sigh and fell back against her silk pillows.

“This is madness,” she whispered. “It’s done. It’s over. There’s no going back to change it.”

If there was a chance for that, she would have told Theon to step in and stop Aron’s bartering. His posturing. His arrogance. She would have put an end to it before it escalated in such a horrible, deadly way.

She’d avoided Aron ever since they returned to Auranos. If he showed up at a social gathering, she would leave. If he moved closer to talk, she would shift her attention to a different group of friends. He hadn’t protested yet, but she knew it was only a matter of time.

Aron liked to be included in her circle whenever possible. And if he threatened to expose her secret because of any perceived slight...

She squeezed her eyes shut and tried not to panic at the thought.

After a full month of avoidance, Cleo knew she had to talk to Aron. She found she needed to know if he too had nightmares about what happened. If he felt the same guilt. If she was to become engaged to this boy at her father’s insistence, she needed to know that he wasn’t a monster who’d cold-bloodedly kill someone and not give a single care for the pain he’d caused.

If Aron was wracked with guilt, it might change things for her. Perhaps he, like she, was deeply pained over his actions and attempting to hide his true feelings from the world. They would have this in common. If nothing else, it would be a start. She resolved to speak with him in private as soon as possible.

Yet she still spent the remainder of the night tossing and turning.

In the morning, Cleo rose, dressed, and breakfasted on fruit, soft cheese, and bread delivered to her chambers by a palace maid. Then she took a deep breath and opened her door.

“Good morning, princess,” Theon said. He typically waited down the hall from her room in the mornings, ready to do his bodyguard duties—which included lurking about all day long in her peripheral vision.

“Morning,” she replied as casually as possible.

She’d need to give her shadow the slip if she wanted to talk to Aron privately. Luckily, she knew this wasn’t impossible. In the weeks since Theon’s new placement she’d tested him a few times to see if she could successfully hide from him. It became a bit of a game that she often won. Theon, however, didn’t think it was very amusing.

“I need to see my sister,” she said firmly.

Theon nodded. “By all means. Don’t let me stop you.”

She moved through the hall, surprised when she turned the next corner to see Mira heading her way. Her friend looked upset and distracted. There was no immediate smile on Mira’s round, pretty face at the sight of the princess like there normally was.

“What’s wrong?” Cleo asked, clasping the girl’s arm.

“Nothing, I’m sure. But I’m off to get a healer to attend Emilia.”

Cleo frowned. “Is she still sick?”

“Her headaches and dizziness seem to worsen every day. She insists all she needs is more sleep, but I think it’s for the best that someone looks at her.”

Concern swelled in Cleo’s chest. “Of course. Thank you, Mira.”

Mira nodded, and with a glance at Theon standing nearby she continued down the hall.

“My sister,” Cleo said under her breath. “Never one to accept help unless it’s forced upon her. Duty above all. Just like a proper princess should be. My father would be so proud.”

“She sounds very brave,” Theon responded.

“Perhaps. But they call me the stubborn one. If I was feeling dizzy all the time, I’d want a dozen healers called to my bedside to make it stop.” She paused at the door to Emilia’s chambers. “Please let me speak privately to my sister.”

“Of course. I’ll wait right here.”

She entered Emilia’s bedchamber and closed the door behind her. Her sister stood on her open balcony, looking down at the gardens below. The morning sun brushed against her high cheekbones and picked up glints of gold in her hair, which was a few shades darker than Cleo’s since Emilia wasn’t so given to spending time outdoors. She glanced over her shoulder.

“Good morning, Cleo.”

“I hear you’re unwell.”