“Yes, me. What?” He cocked his head. “Did you think I’d give it to you as a gift? It’s mine. It’s always been mine.”
“And your father’s, you mean.”
“No. Not his.” Magnus went to the window and peered outside. “It seems that Lady Sophia was mistaken. The clouds are passing, the snow is stopping. And there’s a full moon on the rise. That’ll help light our way when we head out for the temple tonight. Lady Sophia will have to deal with my rude disregard for her hospitality as best she can.”
Suddenly Cleo realized that she and Magnus were finally alone with no one listening in. Total privacy.
It was time to get to the truth of matters.
“Why did you do it?” Cleo asked, her stomach in knots, and not only because of the meal she’d forced down to be polite.
He didn’t turn around. “Do what, princess?”
She forced herself to sound confident, keeping her chin high. “I can’t figure it out. I’ve been thinking about it for days now and it still makes no sense. Based on your sullen attitude and the fact that you’ve barely looked at me since we left Auranos, all I know for sure is that you regret saving my life. Of course, why wouldn’t you? It was the stupidest and most irresponsible decision you could have made and I’m sure your father will never forgive you.”
Magnus turned to face her directly. On his face was an annoying mask of indifference, as if they were discussing nothing more important than the weather. “My father would forgive me for anything if given enough time. His children are one of his few weaknesses. It’s something I’ve only recently realized.”
In Cleo’s opinion, Magnus vastly overestimated the king’s capacity for forgiveness. “You murdered Cronus. The king valued him more than any other guard.”
“I was left with no other choice. He wouldn’t have spared you, even on my orders. He’d already been issued a direct command by the king, and Cronus never failed my father. Ever. And the other guard . . . well, he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. That was too bad for him.” Magnus shook his head. “I don’t want to talk about this.”
She didn’t care if he wanted to talk about it or not. She needed answers and she wouldn’t give up. “As much as it pains me to admit it, your life would be a lot easier if you’d let him kill me. No fake marriage, no worrying about your secrets being exposed, no more threat to your father’s stolen throne.”
He focused on the sleeve of his coat, brushing off an invisible piece of lint as if it were the most important task in the world. “You knew where I could find both Lucia and the water Kindred. I needed that information. And when I return with both of them, my father will come to appreciate why I did what I did.”
“I didn’t say anything about the crystal until after.”
“Then all I can say is that I have no further explanation that will properly satisfy you.”
Cleo groaned. “You are the most frustrating person I’ve ever known.”
“More frustrating than Jonas Agallon?” Magnus frowned. “I’ve met him, you know, so I find that hard to believe. He’s quite frustrating.”
He still believed she’d met with Jonas—had aided Jonas and the rebels—despite her adamant denials. She couldn’t possibly reveal the truth now; it would serve no purpose at all. Her dealings with the rebel would be her secret . . . and Nerissa’s and Nic’s.
“You believe I helped a rebel and yet you still spared my life. You must want something—something beyond that crystal. Beyond my help in finding Lucia.”
His eyes flashed with sudden anger. “What do you care for Lucia, anyway? You said she tried to kill you.”
Back in Lucia’s chambers, Cleo had been certain she was going to die. She hadn’t been able to breathe or move; she’d been helpless before the sorceress’s rage. Still, she couldn’t hate Lucia. In fact, she actually welled up with pity for the girl. There was so much magic inside of her, enough to drown her if she wasn’t careful. “I care about Lucia. I do. And I don’t want anything bad to happen to her. Now, answer me, Magnus. What do you want from me?”
“Nothing at all.”
“Then why? Give me one good reason why you wouldn’t let Cronus kill me.”
Contrary to what she’d expected, Magnus didn’t storm from the room, nor did he drag her out of it and slam the door in her face. He just stood there, arms at his sides, his attention fixed on something on the wall over her shoulder. His expression was pained, as if he couldn’t quite bear to look directly at her.
“You really want to know?” he asked.
“Yes. I really do.”
He was silent for so long that she wasn’t sure he’d ever speak again.
“My whole life, all I wanted was to be like my father,” he began in a monotone voice. “I’ve wanted to follow in his footsteps, to be strong. Smart. Resourceful. Cunning. Intimidating. Ruthless. To be respected and feared. To have his power and influence. What else is there for someone like me—the heir to his throne? Without that to aspire to, I have nothing. I am nothing.”
What a thing to say. He’d been raised as a prince, brought up in privilege—he should have more of a sense of self-worth than this. “You’re wrong.”
He held up a hand to silence her. “I’ve always been told I look like him, sound like him . . . I essentially am him. But no matter how hard I try, I always fail. Because at my core, where I need to be the strongest, I’m weak.”