Falling Kingdoms (Falling Kingdoms 1)

“No, my prince. It’s just that—I swear, I...” She shook her head, her expression one of deep confusion. “I swear that Princess Lucia didn’t light them. They lit all by themselves as she looked at them, each in turn. I was startled by this but cleared my throat to let her know I was there. She seemed disturbed that I might have been watching her, but I didn’t give her any indication of what I saw. Possessing such an ability to summon fire could mean that she’s a—” Her words cut off immediately at Magnus’s sharp look. She bit her bottom lip.

Magnus grasped the girl’s chin and looked down into her eyes. “Thank you, Amia. I want you to continue to tell me anything at all, no matter how seemingly insignificant. But know this—my sister is no witch. This was only your imagination.”

“Yes, my prince,” she whispered before he slipped away from her and began moving toward Lucia’s chambers on the third floor of the castle without another word.

Lighting candles seemed like such a common practice, but not so common if the wicks caught flame all by themselves. Once at Lucia’s door, he took a deep breath and then twisted the handle. It wasn’t locked. He slowly pushed the door open.

Lucia sat on her plush lounge, her legs folded under her, holding the head of a daisy on the palm of her hand. The frivolous gift of flowers had been sent the previous day by another random Limerian boy interested in the princess. Her concentration on the flower was so complete that she hadn’t heard the soft creak of the door.

as snorted. “Come on, then. I won’t hold back if you don’t.”

“Fair enough.”

As their wooden swords clashed, Magnus now paid very close attention to the swordplay, trying hard not to let his mind wander again.

Andreas’s lips thinned. “I heard that you ran Michol Trichas off when he showed interest in your sister.”

“Did you?” Magnus said with disinterest. “Are you offended on his behalf?”

“Just the opposite. He wasn’t right for her. He’s insipid and cowardly, hiding behind his mother’s skirts when any opposition presents itself. He’s not worthy of spending time with Princess Lucia.”

“We finally agree on something. How delightful.”

“However, you’ll find that I’m not quite so easily dissuaded as he was.” Their swords met and held, and Andreas’s gaze turned icy. Magnus’s muscles burned with the effort of taking the point and not allowing his rival to win. “You don’t intimidate me.”

“Not trying to.”

“You chase off all of Lucia’s suitors as if no one in Limeros is worthy of the princess’s precious time and attention.”

Magnus’s gaze snapped to Andreas’s. “No one is.”

“Apart from you, of course.” Andreas’s eyes narrowed. “I think the attention you lavish on your sister compared to any other girl is...unusual.”

Magnus went cold inside. “You’re imagining things.”

“Perhaps I am. But know this, Prince Magnus, when I want something, I get it. No matter what obstacle might present itself.”

Magnus glanced toward the castle. “It looks like I was wrong. Lucia is coming out to watch us after all.”

When Andreas’s attention moved away from Magnus, he struck. He knocked the wooden sword out of Andreas’s grip and then slammed the boy to the ground where he lay on his back looking up, temporarily stunned.

Magnus pressed the blunt tip of his practice sword to Andreas’s throat hard enough to bruise. “Actually, Lucia’s in her embroidery class right now and won’t be able to talk with you again until...well, I’m sure it’ll be quite some time. I’ll give her your regards.”

Lesson over, he threw his sword to the side and turned from the boy still sprawled on the ground to return to the castle.

Some victories didn’t taste quite as sweet as they should.

The idea that anyone, especially someone like Andreas, could guess that Magnus might have forbidden feelings for his younger sister had put a sick feeling into the pit of his stomach. He resolved to force himself to spend more time in the company of other girls to help stave off any future rumors.

And not girls like the one who approached him along the hallway with a smile stretching her rosy cheeks.

“My prince,” Amia greeted him cheerily.

He cast a look around to check if anyone was watching. Speaking openly with a servant—especially such a low-ranking one as Amia—was frowned upon by his father. To imagine King Gaius’s outraged reaction to his son doing more than talking with her was almost as humorous as it was foreboding.

“What is it?” he asked, his words clipped.

“You wanted me to keep an eye on your sister.”