“You seem so sad today,” Cleo said. “Tell me what’s troubling you.”
Lucia laughed quietly at Cleo’s continued attempts to be friends with her. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“Try me.”
“Do you think Magnus would approve of you coming here to look at these shirtless boys?” Lucia asked wryly, attempting to change the subject and regain control.
A shadow passed behind Cleo’s blue-green eyes. “You’d have to ask Magnus.”
That would require Lucia to track him down and talk to him, something he would likely avoid at all costs.
“Do you feel anything at all for him?” Lucia asked.
Cleo paused. “It was an arranged marriage, Lucia. I didn’t choose him, nor did he choose me.”
“If I were you, I’d hate him.” Her words came out more bluntly, and were more truthful, than she’d wanted them to be. Perhaps it was a sign she’d grown more comfortable around Cleo after all. “I’d hate all of us. My hate would burn brighter every day I was forced to sit next to my enemies.” Her throat felt tight and strained. “You must understand why I’m guarded around you. I have no real reason to trust that your intentions are for friendship rather than revenge.”
“You’re absolutely right. You don’t.” Cleo’s eyes glistened and she squeezed them shut. “But what choice do I have but to accept what’s happened and try to make the best of it?”
That felt honest to Lucia. Cleo hadn’t tried to deny her suspicions, but did Lucia blame her for feeling and acting this way? Did she really think Cleo was anything other than a lost girl searching for some kind of connection, even with those who’d stolen so much from her?
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.