Falling Kingdoms (Falling Kingdoms 1)

Fear and guilt immediately crashed over her. Until today, she didn’t realize he even knew about it. Except for unburdening herself to Emilia, she hadn’t said a word about it from the moment she stepped on the ship in the Paelsia harbor. She’d hoped to put the murder of the wine seller’s son out of her mind, but it hadn’t worked very well. She relived it every night when she closed her eyes and fell asleep. Also, the murderous glare of the boy’s brother—Jonas—as he threatened her life before she, Aron, and Mira ran away haunted her.

“Apologies.” The words caught in her throat. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

“I believe you. But it seems as if trouble follows you wherever you go.”

“Are you going to punish me?”

“Not precisely. However, these recent difficulties have made me decide that you will stay here at the palace from this day forward. I won’t allow you to take my ship again on your explorations until further notice.”

Despite her shame over the events in Paelsia, the very idea of this grounding made her bristle. “I can’t just be expected to never leave, like some sort of prisoner.”

“What happened is not acceptable, Cleo.”

Her throat tightened. “Don’t you think I feel horrible about it?”

“I’m sure you do. But it changes nothing.”

“It shouldn’t have happened.”

“But it did. You shouldn’t have been there at all. Paelsia is no place for a princess. It’s too dangerous.”

“But Aron—”

“Aron.” Her father’s eyes flashed. “He’s the one who killed the peasant, correct?”

Aron’s violent and unexpected turn in the market surprised even Cleo. Even though she harbored distrust for the boy, she was dismayed by his lack of guilt.

“He was,” she confirmed.

The king was quiet for a long moment as Cleo held her breath, fearful of what he would say next.

“Thank the goddess he was there to protect you,” he finally said. “I’ve never trusted the Paelsians and have encouraged the dissolution of trade between our nations. They’re an unpredictable and savage people—quick to violence. I’d always admired Lord Aron and his family, but this recent turn of events has confirmed that for me. I’m very proud of him, as I’m sure his father is too.”

Cleo had to bite her tongue to keep from saying anything that might contradict her father’s opinion.

“Still,” the king continued, “I’m not happy that this unfortunate altercation happened in the midst of a large crowd. When you leave this palace, when you leave this kingdom, you must always remember that you are a representative of Auranos. I’ve been informed there is some unpleasantness now brewing in Paelsia. They’re not happy with us right now, even less so than usual. They’re already jealous of our resources while they’ve allowed their own to waste away to next to nothing. Of course, they’d see the murder of one of their own—no matter how it came about—as a statement of Auranian superiority.”

Cleo swallowed hard. “A—a statement?”

He waved a hand dismissively. “It will blow over. Auranians must be very careful when traveling through Paelsia. Such poverty and desperation inevitably leads to robbery, mugging, assault...” His face tightened. “It’s a dangerous place. And you are never to go there again for any reason.”

“Not that I want to, believe me, but...never?”

“Never.”

Overprotective, as usual. Cleo restrained herself from arguing. Much as she hated the idea that Aron had come out looking like a hero to the king for killing Tomas Agallon, she knew when to stop talking so she wouldn’t get herself into any further trouble.

“I understand,” she said instead.

He nodded and shifted through some of the papers before him. His next words struck her cold. “I’ve decided to announce your official engagement to Lord Aron very soon. It will clearly show that he killed the boy to protect you—his future bride.”

o;What’s going on?” Cleo demanded.

Her father looked up at her from a stack of scrolls and paperwork. He was dressed casually, in leathers and a finely knit tunic. His neatly groomed brown beard was threaded with gray. Some said Cleo and her father’s eyes were the exact same color of vivid blue-green, while her sister, Emilia, had inherited their late mother’s brown ones. Both Emilia and Cleo, however, had been born with their mother’s fair hair, unusual in Auranos, where the people tended to be darker-complected from the sun. Queen Elena had been the daughter of a wealthy landowner in the eastern hills of Auranos before King Corvin had seen and fallen in love with her on his coronation tour more than two decades before. Family lore had it that Elena’s ancestors had emigrated from across the Silver Sea.

“Were your ears burning, daughter?” he asked. “Or did Emilia tell you of current events?”

“What difference does it make? If it concerns me, then I should be told. So tell me!”