Frozen Tides (Falling Kingdoms 4)

Nic let out an exasperated groan. “How have you two not figured this out yet? If the prince’s mouth is moving, he’s lying.”

Cleo’s eyes flashed with frustration. “And what if he isn’t lying this time? We just give up the first chance we’ve had in months to reclaim our kingdom?”

“But what if he is, once again, misleading you? Cleo, damn it,” he swore under his breath, “I can’t lose you, too. Got it?” His tone was fierce, but his eyes had grown glossy. He rubbed at them and turned away from her. “I need some air, even if it might turn my lungs to ice.”

He left the room, and Cleo rose to her feet to go after him.

“Let him clear his head,” Nerissa said, placing her hand on the princess’s shoulder. “It’ll give you the time to do the same.”

“Nerissa . . . I don’t know what to believe anymore. Everything used to be so clear and now . . . I’m just so confused.” Her voice caught. “I haven’t even had a chance to speak to Jonas privately.”

Magnus had put the rebel and his friends up somewhere on the far side of the castle, but Cleo didn’t know exactly where. And the prince made it clear he wasn’t going to tell her.

“Yes, of course you need to talk to him,” Nerissa said. “But first you need to talk to the prince. If you peel back the layers of animosity and suspicion and . . . confusion you feel, perhaps your sense of clarity isn’t as marred as you think it is.”

The thought of talking to Magnus after all that had unfolded in the throne room sent a shiver running through her.

No. She wouldn’t allow herself to fear him. Hate him? Loathe him? Distrust him? Yes. But never fear. She’d decided that long ago.

Still, Cleo shook her head. “It’s the Limerian day of silence. I wouldn’t even know where to find him.” Cleo had never experienced a single day of silence at the Auranian palace, and to witness such quiet in a place as stark as this northern castle was about as jarring as she could imagine.

“This day of worship will only make it much easier to find and speak to him in peace,” Nerissa reasoned. “Everyone in Limeros has gathered in the temples and village centers to worship their goddess. And I happen to know exactly where the prince has gone to do his worshipping.”

“Where?”

“He’s right here in the palace, spending the day in the royal temple.” Cleo gave her a look of surprise—she hadn’t even known there was a royal temple on the palace grounds—and Nerissa smiled. “I’ve made very good friends with Enzo, the young palace guard. He’s full of useful information. Much gratitude for introducing us, princess.”

“Very good friends, are you?” Cleo knew all about Nerissa’s proficiency with manipulating willing and gullible men and couldn’t help but be amused. “I’m glad to see you’re already having fun so soon after your arrival.”

“Limeros is far more enticing than I’d previously guessed. And, frankly, so is Enzo.”

“Well, I’m just glad that one of is happy here.”

Nerissa’s smile widened. “Go and have that talk with the prince. I have great faith that you—more than anyone else—can summon words from Prince Magnus today.”

• • •

Cleo walked to the west side of the castle, flush against the high cliffs. She came to the end of a corridor and pushed open two tall ebony doors engraved with a twisting maze of snakes. Inside, she’d expected to find a small replica of the central temple near Ravencrest—dark and foreboding, so unlike the temples devoted to Cleo’s namesake goddess, which were adorned with mosaics, gold, and jewels.

Instead, while this small palace temple did have black stone floors and hard wooden pews in front of an obsidian altar, it had another feature so surprising to Cleo that she couldn’t hold back a gasp. Across the temple from its entrance were three floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out on the Silver Sea, giving her a full view of the setting sun, the sky alive with colors—red, orange, purple, and indigo.

She managed to tear her gaze away from the stunning sight, then scanned the room for worshippers. She saw only one figure, Prince Magnus, seated at the front, facing the windows with his back to her.

She walked slowly down the aisle and sat in a pew directly behind the prince.

“This view,” Cleo said after a few moments. “I can see why you’d choose to spend the day here. So beautiful—and, I must admit, so unexpected in a place like this.”

He didn’t reply, but Cleo wasn’t discouraged. She scooted over and leaned forward against the back of his pew. His dark brown hair had grown quite long in the last months, and he hadn’t bothered to trim it. He didn’t smell of warm leather, as he did when he went riding. Today, he smelled only of sandalwood, as usual, and of citrus. Was that a hint of lemon she caught?

Lemons were a delicacy here in frozen Limeros, very expensive to import.

“Do you put sugar on your lemons?” she asked. “I’ve never been able to eat them without sugar. I’ve always preferred to have my lemons squeezed and made into a sweet drink.”

Again, Magnus didn’t reply, but if nothing else, this was much more pleasant than arguing.

Her gaze settled on his scar—a jagged line that stretched from the top of his right ear to the corner of his mouth. The king had done this to Magnus, sliced his cheek for trying to steal a pretty dagger during a visit to the Auranian palace.

He’d been seven years old. To receive such a violent punishment at such a young age . . .