• • •
Nic couldn’t leave without saying farewell to Cleo. It would be the first time he’d spoken to her since he’d stormed off after she’d rejected both his romantic intentions and his offer to take her away from this horrible place full of ghosts. That had only been two weeks ago, but it felt as if a year had passed.
She likely hadn’t realized it, but Nic had been keeping an eye on her from afar in recent days. Even though she despised him now, he’d still promised to keep her safe.
And how is leaving her behind keeping her safe? he asked himself.
She didn’t need his help anymore. Maybe the idea that she ever had needed him had only been an illusion he’d cast forth himself to make him feel worthy.
He found the princess in the courtyard, reading, on a shady bench beneath a large oak tree. The princess was always in the courtyard reading—a behavior so different from the Cleo he’d grown up with, the one who only touched a book when her tutors insisted. And sometimes, not even then.
Today’s book featured a hawk on the cover, dark bronze against the pale tan leather, and appeared to be about the legends surrounding the immortal Watchers and their mystical Sanctuary. Piled next to her were more books, including a sketchbook he’d occasionally seen her draw in to help pass the time. Art was one class Cleo had seemed to enjoy.
“Cleo,” he said softly.
She looked up at him, shielding her eyes from the bright sun. “Nic!”
“Apologies for disturbing you, but I wanted to come here and—”
She leapt to her feet and threw herself into his arms. “Oh, Nic! I’ve missed you so much! Please, don’t be angry with me. I’m sorry I was so cruel to you. I didn’t mean it.”
A thick knot swiftly formed in his throat and his eyes began to sting. Then a smile took hold of his face and the heaviness that had been seated upon his heart shifted to the side just a little.
She took his face between her hands, staring at him with a worried expression. “You hate me,” she said.
“What? Of course I don’t hate you, Cleo. I thought that you . . . well, I thought you hated me.”
She gasped. “That’s ridiculous. I could never hate you, Nic. Never!”
He felt as close to joyful as he had in recent memory. The message of farewell he’d come to deliver died on his tongue. “I need to ask your forgiveness for what I said to you.”
She shook her head. “No forgiveness is necessary. Please, sit with me for a while.”
“I don’t think I can.” He glanced toward the other guards standing against the far wall. Between them, in the center of the courtyard, was a beautiful garden of flowers and fruit trees, but the guard’s view of the princess was clear enough.
“Forget them. They won’t bother us. And they can’t hear us speaking from all the way over there.”
She took his hand in hers. He sat next to her on the bench and looked down at her amethyst ring.
he king ever in a good mood? One that wasn’t just for show?
“Don’t worry, though,” Milo said with a sneer. “I’m sure he’s nearly done with you. Looking after his mutts will seem like a luxury compared to what your future holds.”
“Auranians,” Burrus mumbled. “Good for nothing.”
“Except wiping the arses of the king’s hounds.”
They both burst into gales of laughter over their own incredible wits.
Ignoring his fellow guards had become easier in the weeks since Nic had been promoted from stable boy to palace guard (although promoted was arguable given his current duties). It didn’t take long for Nic to decide that, though he shared living, sleeping, and eating space with the other guards, he had no desire to become their friend.
He’d only gotten into one fight this week, which had earned him a black eye from Burrus that had yet to fade completely.
Limerians. He spat to the side.
He hated every last one of them.
He usually tried to be quick with a quip or a joke or a story, anything to distract the enemies that wore the same uniform as he.