Gathering Darkness (Falling Kingdoms 3)

The rest of the dungeon smelled like a cesspit, but this area, which was reserved for upper-class prisoners, smelled only of the dry, woodsy sawdust scattered across the floor.

The circular room was surprisingly large, about twenty paces in diameter. Shackles and other restraints lined the circumference. The stone walls were set with torches and lanterns that cast a flickering, shadowy glow on everything.

And there she was. Directly in the center of the room, her hands raised above her head, her wrists bound by rope and fastened to a hook hanging from the ceiling. Magnus drew closer, and she raised her chin as she watched him approach.

He saw blood at the corner of her mouth, trickling down to her chin and the edge of her turquoise gown. As he walked around her slowly, he noticed with displeasure that her pale hair was also stained with blood.

Someone had struck her very hard.

“Did she give you any trouble when you took her into custody?” Magnus asked the guard at his side.

“Yes, your highness. I have a wound on my arm where she bit me. Her teeth are very sharp.”

Magnus wasn’t surprised. The girl would be a fighter until the very end of her life. He couldn’t help admiring her for it. “I’m sure they are.”

Cleo kept her gaze on his, silently watching him wherever he roamed. He forced himself to look at her not as a girl—his wife—with blood on her face, but as his enemy. The enemy to his father’s throne. To his throne.

If she had her way, they’d all have been dead by now.

“So, here we are,” he began. “Do you have anything to say for yourself, princess?”

“I would demand immediate release and a thousand apologies,” she said curtly, “but I doubt you’d give them to me.”

This would normally be the point when a prisoner would begin to beg for mercy. But not Cleo.

“And to think some say you’re not smart.” He tried to ignore the blood on her face. “Let’s get to the point, shall we?”

“That would be lovely.”

“Are you working with rebels?”

She glared at him. “Did your father tell you to come here and question me? And did you accept immediately, knowing you’d have the chance to abuse me?”

“I haven’t abused you.”

“Look at me,” she snarled. “You can see for yourself your father’s guards have been treating me cruelly for no reason. All I’ve done since your family stole my father’s throne is try to get along with you. I’ve done what you’ve asked of me so the Auranian people wouldn’t rise up against you, and this is the thanks I get?”

He wondered how she’d be acting right now if it were the king here instead of his son. “I don’t believe you answered my question, princess.”

“Why even bother with titles, Magnus? Here in this horrible place where you’ve had them tie me up so I can no longer defend myself, why bother feigning civility anymore?”

“Very well, Cleo,” he replied. “But you’re wrong about your innocent behavior. You’ve been a problem since the very beginning. My father should have gotten rid of you months ago, and yet you’re still here. Your every waking moment has been dedicated to finding a way to destroy my family.”

“Not all of you. I considered your sister a friend until earlier today, when she tried to kill me.”

The mention of Lucia hit him with the force of a blow. “What do you know about what my sister did today?”

Her eyes flashed. “She’s insane. Her magic’s driven her mad and paranoid and she’s just looking for a reason to be violent with those who care about her.”

Amazing. She still continued on with this façade of friendship. “You consider yourself one of those people, do you?”

h;Lucia

Magnus tore the parchment in two, his hands trembling with rage. He’d known there was something going on between them, but to realize it had escalated so quickly to this inconceivable point . . .

“Send as many guards as you can spare. Scour the city and find them,” he growled. “And when you do, kindly let me be the first to know, so I can kill the bastard.”

“Yes, your highness,” Cronus said.