“And Princess Cleiona? What about her? She’s queen now.”
The king’s expression tightened. It was the first sign of strain Magnus had seen. “She’d be smart to come to me and beg for my protection.”
“Would you give it to her? Or slit her throat too?”
The king smiled—a cold smile—and put his arm around his son’s stiff shoulders. “Honestly, Magnus. Slit the throat of a sixteen-year-old girl? What kind of monster do you take me for?”
Something caught Magnus’s attention. Lucia’s eyelids fluttered. His breath caught. But after he’d waited a few moments, nothing more happened. The king tightened his grip on Magnus’s shoulder as if he guessed that he was now in great distress.
“It’s all right, son. She’ll recover in time. This is only temporary.”
“How do you know that?” His voice was strangled.
“Because the magic is still within her, and I’m not through with it yet. I need it to find the Kindred.” The king nodded with confidence, his expression very serious now. “Leave us, Magnus. I’ll sit with her.”
“But Father—”
“I said to go now.” There was no mistaking his firm tone. This was a non-negotiable request.
Magnus moved from the side of the bed and sent his father a dark look. “I’ll return.”
“I have no doubt that you will.”
He left the room and pressed his back up against the wall in the hallway outside. It was as if he’d been stabbed through his heart. If Lucia never awoke, then she was lost to him forever. Grief for the only person in the world he’d ever loved and who’d loved him in return buckled his knees.
He felt at his face, wondering what the hot dampness was. For a moment he thought he was bleeding.
Swearing under his breath, he pushed the tears away, vowing that they would be the last he ever shed. Strength, not weakness, was what he needed from this day forward.
King Gaius stood on the castle balcony, looking down upon those gathered to hear him speak about his victory here in Auranos, a crowd of more than a thousand.
They were terrified of both him and his army that surrounded them, watching for any signs of trouble. Cleo drew the loose hood of her cloak closer to her face as she listened to this hateful man speak his lies and false promises with a smile on his face.
She was exhausted. All day and all night she’d stuck to the shadows of the walled palace city, now overrun by Limerian security. But no one paid much attention to a mere slip of a girl.
as queen now. A queen in exile.
And he had to find her.
The future, both Paelsia’s and Auranos’s, now depended completely on her survival.
Princess Cleo’s bedchamber was now Lucia’s. Magnus stood by while the medics and healers surrounded her, but they left when they could do nothing more to help. She lay there in the large canopied bed, her beautiful face pale, her midnight-black hair fanned across the silk pillows.
Magnus stood stonily by her bedside cursing the goddess who hadn’t answered his prayers. One healer remained, wiping Lucia’s forehead with a cool, damp cloth.
“Get out of here,” he snapped.
The woman looked at him with fear before scurrying out of the room. He was getting that reaction a lot lately. With his actions on the battlefield, with the ease he took the lives of those in his path, and that he had been present when Chief Basilius was murdered, the reputation that he was the Prince of Blood had grown to nearly match his father’s reputation.
Only Lucia had ever been able to see the real him—even before his sword had tasted blood. But perhaps that Magnus had died the night when he’d shown her his true feelings. The mask he’d always worn had shattered, but a new one had grown, stronger and thicker than ever. He should be happy for this improvement. Instead, he felt nothing but grief for what had been lost.
“The love of a brother for his sister,” the king said from behind him. Magnus’s shoulders tensed, but he didn’t tear his gaze from Lucia’s face. “It’s truly a beautiful thing.”
“She’s not improving.”
“She will.”
“How do you know for sure?” Magnus’s words were as sharp as his sword.