When he finally returned to the Limerian palace, he left the horse outside without calling for a groom to take it away and give it food and water. He could barely think. It was a monumental effort to even walk a straight line.
Magnus went directly to his room, closing the door behind him. Then he collapsed to his knees on the hard floor.
Some said that Magnus was just like his father in looks and temperament. He’d disagreed until today. He was his father’s son. He was cruel. Manipulative. Deceptive. Violent. Stabbing the guard in the back to save his own life was something that King Gaius would have done. The only difference was that the king would not dwell on it afterward. He would never doubt his actions. He would celebrate them like he celebrated his daughter’s newfound magic after it had turned his mistress into a pile of charred meat.
Magnus wasn’t sure how long he knelt there in the darkness. But after a time, he knew he was no longer alone.
Lucia had entered his chambers. He didn’t see her yet, but he felt her presence and smelled the light floral fragrance she always wore.
“Brother?” she whispered. “You’ve returned.”
He didn’t reply. His mouth was dry, parched. He wasn’t even sure if he could move.
Lucia came to his side and gently touched his shoulder.
“Magnus!” She knelt down next to him and brushed the hair back from his cheek. “Your face. You’re hurt!”
He swallowed. “It’s nothing.”
“Where have you been?”
“On a trip to Paelsia.”
“You look...oh, Magnus.” Concern coated her words. She didn’t know what he’d done. What he’d been instructed to do.
Retrieve Princess Cleo and bring her back to Limeros.
Such a simple task. Magnus had no doubt that his father never would have given it to him if he hadn’t been positive his son would succeed.
But he’d failed.
Lucia got up and returned a few moments later with a glass of water and a wet cloth. “Drink this,” she told him firmly.
He drank. But the water only worked to wash away his numbness, making his pain that much more acute.
Lucia cleaned his wound gently with the cloth. “What scratched you?”
He didn’t answer. Lucia wouldn’t understand what he’d done.
“Tell me,” she insisted. The steely edge to her tone earned her a direct look. “That’s right. You need to tell me what happened. Right now.”
“Will you make it all better?”
“I might.”
As he drew in a ragged breath, her expression grew more grave. She stroked his hair back from his face. “Magnus, please. What can I do?”
He shook his head. “Nothing.”
“Why did you go to Paelsia?”
“Father sent me there to bring something back for him. I failed. And...bad things happened. He’s going to be very angry with me.” He looked down at the floor, looked at his hands. He’d left his sword downstairs. He hadn’t bothered to wipe the guard’s blood off it.
“What bad things happened?”
“The guards who accompanied me—they were killed.”
Her eyes widened. “They were killed? But—but you got away. You were hurt, but you got away.” She touched his face softly. “Thank the goddess you survived.”