She leaned forward, clutching the railing and staring out at the people with the gaze of a warrior. “These are the actions of a man who is not fit to rule Mytica. King Gaius is worse than selfish; he is evil. He takes everything and gives nothing back. And nothing will change unless we rise up against him!”
Magnus clenched his fists, forcing himself out of his frozen state of shock. He had to get up to that balcony, drag her away, put a stop to this before it was too late.
And expose his dear wife as a liar and a rebel, a fraud bent on destroying Magnus—and all the Limerian people—from inside the palace.
“But I want you to know,” Cleo continued, “that there is hope. And that I am living proof of that hope. Because, even though I was forced into this marriage against my will, I have come to know Prince Magnus Lukas Damora very well these last months. And one thing I’ve learned is that Prince Magnus is nothing like his father. Prince Magnus is brave and compassionate, and he truly wants what’s just and best for this kingdom. Kindness is what makes a good king who will put the needs and rights of his people before his own desires.”
Magnus stumbled back, pressing himself against a pillar to keep from crumpling to the ground. He couldn’t speak, he could barely think, and all he could do was stare up at her, utterly stunned.
“I believe, with all my heart, that Magnus is a worthy and superior successor to your current king. Therefore, I ask today that you reject Gaius Damora as your leader and take Prince Magnus as your new king. He will right the wrongs that have overtaken Mytica. And he will make Gaius Damora pay for all he has destroyed.”
Still looking up at her in amazement, Magnus suddenly realized that Cleo wasn’t wearing blue, her favorite color.
Today she wore red.
Cleo raised her arms up and out, as if reaching for the people. “Will you stand with me on this fateful day?” Her voice rose to a shout. “People of Limeros! Join me and my husband on a journey toward a new and better Mytica! Say it with me: King Magnus!”
Excited murmuring rippled through the audience and, one by one, the people began to join Cleo in her chant. Soon the volume in the square had risen to a deafening level, everyone shouting the same two words together, over and over: “King Magnus! King Magnus! KING MAGNUS!”
A sharp cry tore Magnus’s attention away from the balcony. He watched with horror as a stream of green-uniformed Kraeshian guards—on foot and on horseback—flooded the square.
The warnings had been true.
And he’d been utterly wrong to doubt Cleo, in so many ways. The realization bit into him painfully like shattered glass.
The citizens scattered, the square was gripped in chaos. Magnus watched as nearly every fleeing Limerian was captured and restrained by the Kraeshians.
A tall, broad-shouldered guard atop a massive and majestic black stallion called out to the crowd in a booming voice. “I am the commander of Empress Amara Cortas’s royal guard. The Empire of Kraeshia is now in control of Mytica. Our intentions here are peaceful. No one has to die today, but anyone who resists this occupation will pay with their life. From this day forward, you will bow before Amara Cortas, your glorious new empress.”
Magnus looked back to the balcony to see that Cleo had disappeared. With one last glance at the chaos around him, Magnus darted back to the palace unnoticed.
He needed weapons. He needed to find the captain of the palace guard. He needed to stop these Kraeshian vultures before it was too late.
But first, he had to find Cleo.
Magnus raced through the hallways toward a winding staircase to the balcony, taking it two steps at a time. He reached the top and scanned the length of the long, dark hallway.
A flash of long golden hair caught his eye and he ran toward it, but staggered to a halt when he turned the next corner.
There he saw Lord Kurtis, clutching Cleo by her arm. She fought against him like a beast from the Wildlands, scratching and clawing at his face.
“Let go of me!” she yelled.
Kurtis grabbed her by her throat, smashed her against the wall, and slapped her hard across her face. “Behave yourself.”
“I will kill you!”
“Deal with her,” Kurtis said, shoving her at a guard who then struck her in the head with the hilt of his sword, rendering her unconscious. The guard picked up her limp body and tossed her over his shoulder.
Magnus ran at them, but suddenly found himself flat on his face, the wind knocked from his lungs. Someone had tripped him. He looked up to see a Kraeshian guard looming over him, his sharp sword pressed to Magnus’s chest.
Magnus raised his arms to his sides. “I surrender.”
The Kraeshian eased back on the sword, and Magnus clasped his hands on either side of the blade and rammed the hilt into the guard’s face, breaking his nose. As the guard reeled back in pain, Magnus leapt to his feet and slammed his fist into his face, knocking him to the ground.
Then, without any hesitation, Magnus yanked the sword from the guard’s grip and drove the blade down into his chest.
Sword in hand, he rushed along the hallway, desperately searching for Cleo. She was nowhere to be seen, but he spotted Kurtis, alone, headed for an exit.