MAGNUS
AURANOS
At the king’s request, Magnus and a select group of guards had set out to escort the prince and princess of Kraeshia to a large villa an hour’s journey northeast of the palace.
Rather than argue, he had instead grasped hold of the chance to leave the city and clear his head. The trip had been uneventful, surrounded as they were by a swarm of guards both Kraeshian and Limerian, including Cronus, the captain of the palace guard, who rarely strayed far from the king’s side. That Cronus had been assigned to join the party today was proof that the king took at least some interest in Magnus’s safety when he traveled beyond the city walls.
At last, they reached the villa.
“It’s beautiful,” Princess Amara said as she and her brother emerged from their carriage.
“Yes,” Prince Ashur agreed, sweeping his gaze across the lush green hills the expansive villa was nestled within. “More than adequate. It was very generous of the king to give us such a beautiful place to stay.”
Magnus nodded. “He’ll be pleased that you like it.”
His father disliked the Kraeshians, but so far Magnus had found them to be nothing more than an inconvenience, akin to persistent vermin that were immune to swatting. And his father refused to do anything more than swat at these pests, for fear that they’d alert their father and bring war down upon him.
It was unusual for King Gaius to fear anything. Yet ever since the royal wedding, where he’d nearly been killed by the earthquake, the king seemed to be increasingly fearful of his own mortality.
He should be.
Magnus dismounted from his black stallion and approached the large villa.
The front door swung open and a boy no older than five or six ran out along the pathway. Reaching Magnus, he staggered to a halt and looked up at the prince with wide eyes.
“You’re Prince Magnus, aren’t you?”
“I am.”
“My mama has nightmares about you.” His little fists were clenched at his sides. “I won’t let you hurt her!”
Cronus stepped forward, but Magnus held up his hand to stop him.
“I assure you, young man,” he said, crouching down in front of the boy so they were at eye level, “I mean your mother no harm. But I’m very pleased to see she’s protected by such a fierce warrior.”
A woman with a large belly hurried toward them and gathered the boy into her arms. Her face was pale and drawn—qualities that were now more common than ever since the king’s victory.
“Apologies, your highness,” the woman said nervously. “My son, he . . . he speaks without thinking. He meant no disrespect.”
“None was taken.” The child’s words held no threat, only a mild sting that Magnus tried to ignore. The front door swung open again, and now a man exited the villa and joined the woman and boy. “And who are you?” Magnus asked.
The man put his arm around the woman and regarded Magnus warily. “I am Lord Landus. Apologies, Prince Magnus. We know we should have already departed, but we were delayed. My wife is with child and her mornings are currently wracked with illness. I assure you, we’re leaving now to make way for your”—his gaze moved to the Kraeshians and his jaw grew tense—“honored guests. Just as your father requested.”
“This is your home?” Magnus was taken aback; he had thought this was an abandoned property. Now he realized that his father had simply cast out its residents, surely with threats of imprisonment or worse. Why did this surprise him? The king had never ruled his people with the weight of a feather when a stone would suffice.
The man smiled, but it gave off anything but warmth. “It belongs to King Gaius now. And to you.”
“Then be on your way and don’t waste anymore of the prince’s time,” Cronus said, approaching like a hulking shadow at Magnus’s side.
“Of course.” Fear flickered in the lord’s eyes. “Farewell, your highness.”
Magnus watched the three go on foot down the forest road. The little boy looked back at him over his mother’s shoulder with confusion. He didn’t understand why he had to leave his home, with no idea when, or if, he might be able to return.
They’re Auranian, Magnus reminded himself when he found he couldn’t turn away. What do you care of their fate?
“Hopefully they’ve remembered all their personal belongings and won’t have to disturb us again,” Princess Amara said as she stepped inside the foyer. She looked up at the stained-glass ceiling and chiseled, winding staircase with a growing smile. “Yes, this is quite acceptable. The king knows how to treat his valued guests. I’m going to explore.”
Prince Ashur stopped and stood in the doorway. “You do that, sister.”