“He will be missed,” he said evenly.
“Indeed.”
The king stood up and descended the stairs to stand face-to-face with Magnus. Magnus fought back the urge to reach for his blade. He had to be calm.
“Melenia hasn’t contacted me in weeks.” The king’s voice held frustration as he spoke of the mysterious immortal who allegedly advised him in his dreams. “I don’t know what she’s waiting for, and I need to know how to use Lucia’s magic to light our path. After all this time, your sister can still barely control her elementia and I can find no one trustworthy enough to tutor her.”
“Lucia’s prophecy remains true. She is the one who will lead you to the Kindred, not Melenia. Lucia is the key to all of this and I will always have faith in her—more than anyone else.”
His words stuck in his throat all the more because they were the truth.
He still believed in Lucia, even if she no longer believed in him.
The king clasped Magnus’s shoulders. “Of course, you’re right. Lucia will lead the way. It is my destiny to possess the Kindred’s magic for myself.”
No, Father, Magnus thought. My destiny.
“I’ll keep an eye on the Kraeshians,” he said. “If they show any sign of wanting what’s ours, we can deal with them together.”
The king nodded and pressed his hand against Magnus’s scarred cheek, a smile lifting the corners of his mouth. “Yes. Together.”
Magnus left the throne room. He walked swiftly down the hall until he reached a place where he could pause, unseen by his father, and will himself to stop shaking with anger. With frustration. The need to avenge his mother’s murder and bring his father to justice crawled over his skin like ants.
The wine he’d had was no help at all; it had only blurred his vision and his mind.
He needed air. Badly.
He continued down the hallway until he found an exit to a large balcony overlooking the palace gardens. Illuminated only by moonlight, even he had to admit they were excruciatingly beautiful. The sweet scent of roses wafted up to where he stood on the balcony, about thirty feet above. His shoulders hunched, he clutched the cool marble banister and inhaled.
Suddenly, a small movement caught his eye. Down in the gardens, along the mosaic pathway winding its way through the lush area, he saw three figures: his adopted sister, Lucia, walking with the Kraeshian prince and princess.
He found he could not look away.
“Someone looks rather unhappy tonight.”
The voice cut through his concentration and tightened the muscles in his back.
Without turning around, he said, “I thought I was alone out here.”
“And yet, clearly, you’re not.”
“I would like to be alone out here.”
“I’m sure you would. But I was here first. Actually, I was here for sixteen years before you arrived and murdered practically everyone I know and love, so I believe that definitely grants me the right to this particular balcony.”
He turned to face the girl standing in the shadows and was shocked that he hadn’t noticed her immediately. Known as the Golden Princess to the citizens of Auranos, Princess Cleiona’s hair was so pale it nearly glowed beneath the moonlight. She had eyes of aquamarine, as vibrant as a lake’s surface under a summer sky.
Perhaps he hadn’t seen her because her dress was so dark: bluish, like the deepest shade of dusk in the moments just before nightfall.
Cleo emerged from her cloak of shadows and joined him at the balcony’s edge. Following his gaze, her eyes locked on Lucia and the visiting prince and princess.
“I’m sure you’ll be pleased to know that I’ve become rather well acquainted with Lucia in your absence,” Cleo said.
“Have you, now.”
“Yes. I might go so far as to call us friends. She’s very special, your sister. I see why you love her so much.”
Taken at face value, it was a cordial observation.