“I don’t doubt it for a moment. You’re so much like your sister.” He smiled, but it quickly faded at the edges. “My deepest condolences on her loss, your grace. She was truly remarkable.”
Cleo tried to ignore the jolt of pain that came from being reminded of her sister, and regarded Kurtis with new interest. “You were a friend of Emilia’s?”
“Acquainted, but I’m not sure I’d say that we were friends. We were rivals, really.” He raised a brow at Cleo’s look of curiosity. “We met several years ago in Auranos, where we competed against each other in an archery tournament held in her honor. She was so talented, and she insisted that boys and girls should compete in the same matches.”
Cleo couldn’t help but laugh at the memory of the festivals and competitions once held in the City of Gold. “Yes, Emilia was an incredible archer. I envied her. But, then again, it takes years of practice to hone a skill like that, and back then I preferred activities that were much less athletic.”
Attending parties. Drinking wine. Exploring markets. Having her hair braided and styled by skilled attendants. Being fitted for extravagant gowns. Spending time with good friends—not that any of them had sent a single letter or condolence since the deaths of her father and sister.
Kurtis nodded. “It was unusual for a princess of her status—not to mention an heiress to the throne—to take up such a hobby, but she deeply impressed me. And I was even more impressed when she became the champion of our match.”
Emilia must have loved that, Cleo thought. To have beaten the boys at their own game. “Please don’t tell me you let her win.”
“Far from it. I tried my very best and came in second place . . . a very close second place. I would have loved the glory of the win, especially at that young and vulnerable age. I’d always hoped for a rematch, but some dreams aren’t meant to come true.”
“No, they’re not,” Cleo mused. Her sister had practiced with her bow and arrow every day until she fell ill with the disease that stole her life. Cleo used to joke that Emilia could bring back enough venison for a whole year after just one afternoon hunting trip. Or, perhaps, defend the palace with the rest of the guards if they were ever attacked.
Cleo had no such skills with weaponry. She’d been able to defend herself so far with a sharp dagger and a great deal of luck. Otherwise, she was dependent on others to protect her from danger.
“Lord Kurtis . . .” she began, an idea suddenly brewing in her mind.
“Please, princess. It’s just Kurtis. My friends needn’t use my title to address me.”
“Kurtis,” she repeated with a smile. “You should feel free to call me Cleo.”
His olive-green eyes sparkled. “With pleasure, Princess Cleo.”
“Close enough.” She laughed. “Tell me, Kurtis, now that you’ve been relieved of many of your duties around the palace, you must have a great deal of time on your hands, yes?”
“I suppose I do. Although, I hope to be invited to future council meetings, at Prince Magnus’s discretion of course. I believe I could still be of help.”
She wondered how likely it was that Magnus would agree to that. “Well, you’ve just reminded me of something my sister loved and did very well. I would like to take archery lessons to honor her memory, and it seems that you would make an excellent tutor.”
“It might seem vain to agree with you, your grace, but I would. And I’d be honored to be your tutor.”
“That’s wonderful news, thank you. Can we meet every day?” she asked eagerly. “I tend to get bored with new hobbies unless I fully immerse myself in them.”
Kurtis nodded. “Every day it is. I’ll try my very best to teach you well, princess.”
“Teach her well?” Magnus’s deep voice cut between them. “Teach her what, might I ask?”
Cleo thought it best not to act guilty. After all, they were speaking plainly in a hallway, not whispering in an alcove or guarding the conversation from potential eavesdroppers. Further, she had nothing to be guilty of, and so she turned to the prince without hesitation.
“Archery,” Cleo said. “Lord Kurtis is a skilled archer and he’s agreed to tutor me.”
“How very kind of him.” Magnus studied Kurtis with a sharp, even glare, as a bird of prey might study a small rabbit, right before tearing off its head.
“Yes. Very kind.” Her heart sped up again, but she couldn’t falter now. “Magnus, I need to speak with you.”
“So speak.”
“In private.”
Kurtis bowed his head. “I’ll leave you alone. Princess, perhaps we can have our first lesson tomorrow at midday?”
“Perfect.”
“Until then. Your highness, your grace.” Another bow and Kurtis turned on his heels and walked down the hallway.