“Hatred is like fire. It burns the one who harnesses it. It’s also extremely hard to see more helpful truths through its flames.”
Nerissa was wise beyond her eighteen years.
“You’re absolutely right,” Cleo said, her brow furrowed as she remembered her conversation with the prince. She pushed past the blinding flames of her hatred toward the boy who’d thrown Theon’s death back in her face, making her deeply regret thinking she might be able to trust him.
But she wasn’t the only one who shared dark truths last night. Magnus had told her that Lucia was adopted—a revelation more shocking than his confirmation of his feelings toward her.
Perhaps Magnus had realized he was opening himself up too much, peeling back the hateful layers that concealed his true self. He knew he needed to push her away before he revealed too much of himself . . . and of what he had in common with Cleo.
He’d succeeded, at the time.
But today was a new day.
Cleo had allowed herself to be manipulated by the memory of Theon’s death, and Magnus had managed to push her away when she’d gotten too close.
Nerissa was correct. Fire burned. Fire blinded.
Clever, Magnus, she thought. Very clever.
But not clever enough.
• • •
With every step she took toward Magnus’s chambers, Cleo wavered between having confidence and doubting what she was about to attempt.
Magnus’s natural demeanor was acidic, his manners unpleasant at best. But he’d also saved her. Helped her. Kept her secrets.
There had to be more to him.
When she reached his door, she allowed herself a moment of hesitation.
I can do this, she told herself. I need to be strong.
She raised her hand to knock, but before she could make contact, the door swung open and she found herself face-to-face with Princess Amara.
Amara smiled brightly. “Good morning, Cleo.”
Stunned, Cleo merely stood there and blinked. “Amara, I—I didn’t expect to see you, here.” Her gaze then fell to the partially unfastened ties on the girl’s dress.
Amara’s brows drew together. “Oh, dear. This isn’t a problem, is it? I’d assumed, based on what I’d heard, that such affairs were unimportant to you.”
Cleo glanced past Amara to see Magnus approaching the doorway. His dark hair was messy and his shirt was missing, revealing more bare skin than she’d ever seen on him before.
The realization that these two had spent the night together hit her like a lead weight.
“To what do I owe this unexpected visit, princess?” Magnus leaned against the door frame, showing no sign he was having difficulty recovering from all the alcohol he’d consumed last night. Apparently good Paelsian wine caused no ill effects other than loose tongues, spilled secrets, and the inability to care who shared one’s bed.
Cleo grappled to find words to fill the silence. “After our harsh words last night I thought we should speak again. But I see you’re otherwise occupied.”
“I was just leaving.” Amara cast a worried look at Magnus through her thick eyelashes. “Have I crossed the line?”
“No line I didn’t want you to cross.” He put his arm around her waist, drew her back against him, and kissed her. “I’ll see you again soon.”
“Good day, Cleo.” Amara gave her a tight smile, then slipped past her and down the hallway. Cleo watched her go until she disappeared around a corner.
She’d heard all about the conversation Nic had had with the Cortases at their villa a few days ago, and it had made her head spin with both possibility and doubt. She knew she would have a great deal to consider before making any decisions or allegiances, no matter how powerful they were.
From what she’d seen this morning, however, it seemed as if Princess Amara was offering up alliances to everyone.