The question was, could she be a friend? A true friend Lucia could trust with her deepest, darkest secrets?
Lucia bit her bottom lip and focused on the boys in front of her, but eventually her gaze drifted back up to the hawk circling in the sky.
“Have you ever been in love?” she asked.
“Yes,” Cleo said after a moment, softly.
“Where is he now?”
“Dead.”
Dozens of questions rose up inside Lucia. Dead? How? An accident? In battle? Was it Lord Aron she spoke of, or someone else?
She waited for the heart-wrenching story to come pouring out, but Cleo said nothing further about it. In the silence, Lucia felt the overwhelming urge to share her own loss with someone who might understand.
“In my life, I’ve only truly loved one boy.” Lucia shook her head, nearly amused. Boy seemed such a trivial description for him. “Do you . . . believe in Watchers?”
“Yes.”
So many people would scoff at such things, but Cleo’s quick, definitive answer and calm expression held the same gravity that Lucia felt in her heart.
She’d told no one this before. No one.
And now the words surged forth before she could stop them.
“When I was trapped in sleep, a Watcher named Alexius visited my dreams. He was the most beautiful boy I’d ever seen. He promised to visit me again after I woke, but I haven’t seen him since. And now . . . now I’m not sure if he was ever real to begin with.”
It wasn’t until she felt the dampness on her cheeks that she realized she was crying. As she remembered the last time she’d seen him, the kiss they’d shared, pain wrenched through her heart, and the heavy darkness within her grew.
Just then, lightning crackled above the field as dark storm clouds gathered, blocking the sun. Thunder rolled, and the rain began to pour. The boys looked up with surprise, their hair and clothes drenched in seconds.
“Princess, we must go now,” a guard urged.
Lucia looked up at the clouds with surprise. Auranos rarely experienced anything but perfect, temperate weather.
“Did you do that?” Cleo whispered.
“I don’t know.” Her elementia gave her the power to do so many incredible things—both wonderful and fearsome—but to control weather itself . . .
The thought was just as frightening as it was exciting.
Cleo linked her arm with Lucia’s as they stood up together. “I know what it’s like to love someone different from you. Someone others might look down upon or deny you. It causes more pain than happiness, especially if the one you love is stolen from you too soon.”
“Yes,” Lucia whispered.
“Before my father died, he told me to believe in magic. And that’s what I do. I believe in things other people think are impossible, and it makes me strong enough to face whatever comes next. I believe that your Alexius is real and that right this moment he’s thinking about how much he misses you.”
Lucia couldn’t deny it. Cleo was getting to her, breaking through that dark wall that surrounded her.
ntal magic should be natural and beautiful, like life itself. But whenever Lucia let it take over, it seemed to lead only to pain and death.
And part of her, a very small part, didn’t mind this at all.
The thought made her tremble.
Cleo reached over and squeezed her hand, the warmth of her skin sinking into Lucia’s cool flesh. Immediately, her dark thoughts vanished, as if by magic itself.
She glanced up at the sky, shielding her eyes. A golden hawk flew high above, and her heart jumped at the sight. She’d seen many hawks over the last few weeks. Every one of them gave her a gift of hope, which would then slip away through her fingers like sand.