Falling Kingdoms (Falling Kingdoms 1)

As he said the words, he realized he actually meant them.

The king nodded. “Good.”

“Is there anything you require of me right now? Or are we to wait until the chief sends message to you of his decision?”

The king glanced at the two guards who remained in the room. A flick of his chin toward them sent them out of the room so he could speak with Magnus privately.

“There is something, although it’s not directly related to my plans for Auranos.”

“What then?”

“It’s about your sister.”

Magnus froze. “What about her?”

“I know she’s close to you. Closer than she is to either me or her mother. I want you to keep an eye on her. If you notice anything about her that strikes you as unusual, you must tell me immediately. If you fail to do this, she could be in grave danger. Do you understand?”

His breath caught. “What kind of danger?”

“I can tell you no more than that for now.” His expression shadowed. “Will you do as I ask without further question? It’s important, Magnus. Will you watch over Lucia and let me know if you notice anything at all?”

The world felt uneven and jagged beneath Magnus’s feet. He hadn’t cared about Tobias, but the bastard’s death had deeply shaken him.

Lucia, however, he did care about. Whatever his father was asking for was directly related to the conversation Magnus had overheard between the king and Sabina on the night of her birthday. One of magic and mystery. And if it put Lucia’s well-being in danger in any way, he knew there was no answer for him to give but one.

He nodded. “Of course I will, Father.”

“I’m very pleased to announce to you all”—King Corvin spoke at the front of the great hall, upon the dais, to a large crowd of friends and nobles gathered for the celebration banquet—“that my youngest daughter, Princess Cleiona Aurora Bellos, shall be united in wedlock to Lord Aron Lagaris, son of Sebastien Lagaris of Elder’s Pitch. I hope that you can join with me in celebrating this happy and joyous union. To Princess Cleo and Lord Aron!”

The crowd cheered. Cleo tried to hold back her tears as she stood at her father’s side. She couldn’t see faces anymore, only blurry shapes. But she would not cry.

“Smile, Cleo.” Aron clinked his wineglass against hers as she sat down again behind the table filled to overflowing with the royal feast. The chiming sound made her spine stiffen. “You’ll make everyone think you aren’t thrilled about this announcement.”

“I’m not, and you know it,” she said through clenched teeth.

“You’ll get used to it,” he assured her, but he didn’t sound like he cared much one way or the other. “And before you know it, it’ll be our wedding night.”

It sounded more like a threat than a promise.

It was official. She was officially betrothed.

After her unpleasant chat with Aron at his villa three weeks ago, she’d broached the subject with her father, hoping that he would allow her to dissolve the engagement before it was even publicly announced. Instead, he’d told her that it was for the best and that she needed to have faith in his ability to choose a suitable husband for his cherished daughter.

Her father, Cleo thought with growing dismay, was more in love with the idea of Aron as a son-in-law—a lord who’d allegedly jumped into battle to defend the helpless princess from a savage Paelsian peasant—than she could ever be.

Since that “talk,” the king had been too busy to speak privately with Cleo. However, happily, he’d also been too busy to make any announcement. Every day that passed without it was a gift. A chance for her to figure out a solution.

But she hadn’t. Not in time.

And here we are, she thought dismally.

She couldn’t eat anything. Her stomach felt too sick to hold down a single mouthful of the veal, stag, stuffed chicken, fruits, or sweet pastries—to name only a fraction of the lavish five-course feast. And she refused to take even a single gulp of wine.

The first moment she could, she made her escape from the crowded banquet, avoiding Theon’s eyes and slipping past the hoards of well-wishers who seemed excited at the prospect of a royal wedding.

“How wonderful this is,” she heard one woman say as she passed, “to have such joyful news to celebrate. I hope it will be a spring wedding. How delightful. It’s unfortunate about Princess Emilia, though. So, so sad she isn’t well enough to attend.”

Cleo’s heart clenched at the words. Every time she grew so selfish as to be concerned only with her own problems, she had to kick herself. There was something much more important going on beyond the issues with Aron.