A boy, crying, his cheek weeping blood. It dripped onto a colorful rug at the palace. His mother, the Limerian queen, handing him a cloth napkin to press against his face. She hadn’t gotten down on her knees and hugged him to her chest. His father, the king, growled at the boy to stop making a mess.
This boy didn’t look at all like one who would cry over a little blood. In fact, the cold way he studied her made her feel as if it she’d been touched by ice. Some might find him very handsome, but she did not. There was a cruel and unpleasant edge to his appearance. He made her immediately uneasy.
But dealing with unpleasant people was part of her duty as the king’s daughter.
“It’s a great pleasure to make your acquaintance, Prince Magnus,” Cleo said, keeping her voice polite and measured. “Perhaps we’ll meet again sometime soon. We’re about to meet our friend in the village up ahead before we return to Auranos.”
“How nice for you,” he replied. “And who is your friend who stands next to you?”
“This is Theon Ranus, a palace guard who has accompanied me here to Paelsia.”
“What are you doing in Paelsia, might I ask?”
“Enjoying the scenery,” she said pleasantly. “I like to explore.”
“I’m sure.” His horse stayed steady, and the prince’s gaze remained fixed on Cleo’s face. “But you’re lying. I was informed that you were being kept in a locked shack nearby—one with a broken door and three unconscious guards with bruises to their temples. It took me a little longer to find it than I thought. I’m not all that familiar with the Paelsian landscape. I, unlike you, am not enjoying the scenery.” He glanced around with distaste. “In fact, I’ll be happy to leave as soon as possible.”
“Don’t let us stop you,” Theon said under his breath.
Magnus looked down at him sharply. Instead of saying anything, a smile snaked across his face. Then his gaze flicked back to Cleo and she felt pinned in place by those emotionless eyes. “So you managed to escape your captors. Clever girl.”
She fought not to look away from him, to show any weakness. “I can thank the goddess that I managed to get away. With Theon’s help.”
“Thank the goddess,” Magnus repeated. “Which goddess is that? The evil one you’re named for? The enemy to my people’s goddess?”
Her patience had been stretched so thin it was ready to snap. “As much as I’m enjoying this conversation, Prince Magnus, it’s time that we were on our way. Please convey my good wishes to your family when you return to Limeros.”
Magnus nodded at his guards, who both slipped off their mounts. Cleo’s racing heart picked up more speed.
“What do you mean by this?” Theon didn’t wait another moment before unsheathing his sword and stepping in front of Cleo.
“This likely would have been much easier had the princess stayed where she was until I arrived,” Magnus said. “I was asked to bring her back to Limeros.”
Cleo inhaled sharply. “You will do no such thing.”
“My father, King Gaius, requested it of me himself. And that’s exactly what I’ll do.” His dark-eyed gaze moved to Theon. “I strongly suggest that you don’t try to stop my men right now. There doesn’t need to be any blood spilled here today.”
Theon raised his sword. “And I strongly suggest that you turn around and leave the princess right where she is. She’s not going anywhere with you.”
“Back off, boy, and I will let you run back to your land while you’re still breathing.”
Theon actually laughed at that, and Magnus glared down at him.
“Honestly,” Theon said. “I’m a little underwhelmed right now. You’re the Limerian prince, the next in line to the throne. I’d always heard that you came from a line of great men.”
“I do.”
“If you say so. Maybe you’re the exception to the rule.”
“Amusing.” Magnus flicked his hand. “Guards, take the princess. And deal with her protector. Now.”
The guards moved closer to Theon.
“Theon...” Cleo’s throat was almost too tight to speak.
“Stay behind me.”
Panic forked through her. She thought they’d gotten away. She’d escaped from Jonas. All they had to do was meet Nic and travel the rest of the way to the harbor to find a ship to take them home. And all would be well again.
“What does your father want with me?” she demanded. “The same thing Jonas wanted? To use me against my father in your war?”
“Consider it an attempt to improve relations between lands. Take her,” Magnus snapped at his men. “Now.”
But to take Cleo, they first had to get through Theon. The two men—and they were men, not boys—unsheathed their weapons. Cleo was terrified for Theon. But she’d never seen him wield a sword before.
He was incredible.
Cleo staggered back from him as he clashed with the two, their swords clanging and sparking as they fought. The blond guard slashed Theon’s arm and blood welled, streaking down the sleeve of his blue uniform. That he continued to use that arm gave her some relief that it was only a flesh wound. Then he thrust his sword through the blond guard’s chest.
It was a killing blow. The Limerian guard fell to his knees with a grunt and then face forward onto the dirt.
Magnus swore loudly. Cleo looked up at him still on his horse. He seemed shocked by the guard’s death, as if he’d been fully expecting that Theon would easily surrender and give custody of Cleo over to him without argument or resistance.
There was nothing easy about this. But Cleo was confident that Theon was going to win. He was her hero. He’d saved her once. He would save her again.
Theon fought harder against the second guard, who moved toward Cleo. This one was older and more experienced, and he handled his sword so easily it was as if it was another limb. Cleo had witnessed guards practicing together with wooden swords and then again matched in tournaments every summer with real ones made from iron and steel. But she’d never seen a fight like this.
Just as she feared Theon would be defeated, the other guard lost his footing on the rocky ground. Theon didn’t hesitate—he ran him through with his sword.
The guard’s weapon clattered to the ground and he collapsed. A moment later, he choked on his own blood and fell limp. He was dead.
Cleo had also stopped breathing, but now she exhaled deeply and shakily as relief flooded through her. Theon had stopped them. He’d killed them to defend her, but she knew there had been no other choice. They would have taken her against her will and dragged her back to Limeros as a prisoner of war to use against her father.
Theon had just saved her life again.
Cleo looked toward him, gratitude welling in her heart, a smile ready to bloom on her face. His chest heaved with labored breath; his forehead was damp with sweat. Their eyes met and held.
Then a sword thrust through the center of Theon’s chest from behind, the sharp, bloody tip impaling the front of his uniform. He looked down at it with shock as the sword pulled back and dark blood soaked the fabric.
Horror crashed all around her.
“Theon!” Cleo screamed.
Theon touched his chest and drew his hand away coated with blood. His pained gaze met hers again briefly before he collapsed heavily on his back, his eyes open and staring straight up at the sky.
Magnus stood behind Theon holding a bloody sword.
He frowned down at Theon’s body, his brows drawn tightly together as he shook his head. “He killed my men. He would have killed me next.”
Cleo trembled violently from head to toe and her feet moved without conscious effort. She collapsed at Theon’s side, grabbing his arms, his shoulders, his face. She couldn’t see past the tears in her eyes.
“Theon, you’re all right. It’s only
a wound. Please, look at me!” Her hysterical sobs made her words impossible to understand.
He was fine. He had to be. She already had it all planned. He would take her back to Auranos and her father would be angry for a while. She would tell the king that she loved Theon and she didn’t care that he was a guard. He was everything she’d ever wanted. And Cleo always got whatever she wanted—provided she wanted it badly enough.
“I regret that it had to come to this,” Prince Magnus said. “If your guard had backed off when I told him to, this wouldn’t have happened.”
“He’s not just a guard,” she whispered. “Not to me.”
When she felt the prince touch her arm as if to pull her up to her feet, she screamed and clawed at him.
“Get away from me! Don’t touch me!”
His expression was stone. “You have to come with me now.”
“Never!”
“Don’t make this more difficult than it’s already been.”
She stared at him in shock, not seeing anything but a blur. This horrible creature before her was no better than the most evil beast. He’d done this to Theon. Theon had come here to rescue her, and now he was...
Now he was...
No, he wasn’t. He would survive this. He had to.
Cleo pushed away from Magnus and clutched Theon’s body, trying to hold him, trying to shield him from the prince who might try to hurt him again. His blood soaked into her fine silk dress, the one she’d tried not to dirty even while forced to wear it for days on end locked in the cold, dark shed. She didn’t even look at the other bodies. They were dead. But Theon wasn’t. He wasn’t.
“Enough of this.” Magnus grabbed Cleo’s arm and wrenched her to her feet. “This has all gone very wrong and now I need to get you back all on my own. Don’t try my patience another moment. Behave yourself.”
“Let go of me!” She lashed out and scratched him across his face as deeply as she could. It was enough to draw blood on the same side as his scar. He snarled and pushed her back from him. She stumbled and fell hard to the rocky ground. All she could do was lie there, stunned and gasping for breath.
Magnus loomed over her. Blood streaked his face and hands. His face was flushed, but he now looked more upset than enraged. For a moment, he reminded her of the small boy he’d once been, crying, his face bleeding.
He reached for her.
Then something hurtled at him and struck the side of his head. He fell to the ground with a grunt and lost hold of his sword. Cleo scrambled to her feet as Nic ran up to them. He’d thrown the palm-size rock that hit Magnus.
The prince wasn’t unconscious, but he was disoriented. He groaned.
Nic surveyed the deadly scene with horror. “Cleo! What happened here?”
She grabbed the prince’s heavy sword and raised it up. She’d never been allowed to hold one before. But she summoned the strength now—strength she never knew she had—to hold it over Magnus’s chest. She could barely see past her tears. Rage and pain was all that gave her the strength to press the tip of the bloody sword over the prince’s heart.
Alarm showed through his disorientation. “Princess...no...”
“He was trying to save me. You made him bleed.” She choked out the words. “Now I want to make you bleed.”
Nic grasped her wrist. “No, Cleo. Don’t do this.”
Her arms ached from holding the heavy sword steady. “I need to stop him from hurting anyone else.”
“He’s stopped. Look at him. We’ve already hurt him. But if you kill him, then this will be even worse than it already is. We need to go home. Now.”
“He wanted to take me back to Limeros as a prisoner. Theon stopped him.”
Nic finally took the sword from her grasp. “He won’t take you. I promise he won’t.”
Magnus looked up at Nic, his expression grim but relieved. “Thank you. I’ll remember your assistance today.”
Nic glared down at him. “I didn’t do this for you, asshole.”
He turned the sword around and bashed Magnus in the head with the hilt. It was enough to knock the prince out cold. Then Nic threw the sword to the side. His hands were now covered in Theon’s blood.
Cleo staggered back to Theon and dropped down next to him. She stroked the bronze-colored hair off his forehead.
He stared straight up at the sky. He wasn’t blinking. His eyes were such a beautiful shade of dark brown. She loved his eyes. His nose. His lips. Everything about him.
As she touched his lips, her fingers slid over the blood.
“Wake up, Theon,” she said softly. “Please, find me again. I’m right here. I’m waiting for you to rescue me.”
Nic touched her shoulder gently.
She shook her head. “He’ll be fine. He just needs a moment.”
“He’s gone, Cleo. There’s nothing you can do.”
She pressed her hand to Theon’s blood-soaked chest. There was no heartbeat. His eyes were glazed. His spirit had departed. This was nothing but a shell. And he wasn’t going to find her ever again.
She couldn’t control the sobs that wracked her entire body. There were no words for this pain. She’d lost Theon just when she’d realized how much he meant to her.
If she hadn’t come here, Theon wouldn’t have had to follow. He’d loved her. He’d wanted her to be safe. Now he was dead and it was all her fault.
Cleo leaned over and kissed his lips—their third kiss.
Their last.
Then she let Nic lead her away from Theon’s dead body and Magnus’s unconscious one and toward the harbor.
By the time Magnus came to, all three horses had run off. He was alone, in the middle of Paelsia, surrounded by three corpses. A hawk circled in the sky high above. For a moment, he thought it might be a vulture.
He dragged himself to his feet and looked down at the fallen men. He swore under his breath, then cast a dark look in the direction of the village in the distance. There was no sign of Princess Cleo and whoever that was who’d knocked him out.
He tried very hard not to look at the Auranian guard whom he’d stabbed, but his gaze kept turning in that direction. The young guard’s eyes were still open, staring up at the sky. Blood had caked on his lips and a pool of it soaked into the dirt next to his body.
Magnus realized he was trembling. This guard had taken out two of his men. As soon as he turned around, Magnus could have been killed too. He’d had to strike first. And so he’d chosen to stab the guard in the back. Like a coward.
He crouched down and looked very hard at the Auranian, knowing he would never forget the face of the first person he’d slain. The boy wasn’t much older than he was. Magnus reached over and closed his eyes.
Then he left the bodies there, went to the village, purchased a horse from a Paelsian who’d seemed fearful and intimidated by Magnus’s very presence, and rode hard back to Limeros. He stopped only when he was so tired he nearly fell off his mount, sleeping a few hours before continuing on, numb, broken, and beaten.
The blood had dried on his cheek where the girl had clawed him. At least, it had stopped stinging. He wondered briefly if it would leave new scars there. It would serve as a visible marking of his defeat and humiliation.
When he finally returned to the Limerian palace, he left the horse outside without calling for a groom to take it away and give it food and water. He could barely think. It was a monumental effort to even walk a straight line.
Magnus went directly to his room, closing the door behind him. Then he collapsed to his knees on the hard floor.
Some said that Magnus was just like his father in looks and temperament. He’d disagreed until today. He was his father’s son. He was cruel. Manipulative. Deceptive. Violent. Stabbing the guard in the back to save his own life was something that King Gaius would have
done. The only difference was that the king would not dwell on it afterward. He would never doubt his actions. He would celebrate them like he celebrated his daughter’s newfound magic after it had turned his mistress into a pile of charred meat.
Magnus wasn’t sure how long he knelt there in the darkness. But after a time, he knew he was no longer alone.
Lucia had entered his chambers. He didn’t see her yet, but he felt her presence and smelled the light floral fragrance she always wore.
“Brother?” she whispered. “You’ve returned.”
He didn’t reply. His mouth was dry, parched. He wasn’t even sure if he could move.
Lucia came to his side and gently touched his shoulder.
“Magnus!” She knelt down next to him and brushed the hair back from his cheek. “Your face. You’re hurt!”
He swallowed. “It’s nothing.”
“Where have you been?”
“On a trip to Paelsia.”
“You look...oh, Magnus.” Concern coated her words. She didn’t know what he’d done. What he’d been instructed to do.
Retrieve Princess Cleo and bring her back to Limeros.
Such a simple task. Magnus had no doubt that his father never would have given it to him if he hadn’t been positive his son would succeed.
But he’d failed.
Lucia got up and returned a few moments later with a glass of water and a wet cloth. “Drink this,” she told him firmly.
He drank. But the water only worked to wash away his numbness, making his pain that much more acute.
Lucia cleaned his wound gently with the cloth. “What scratched you?”
He didn’t answer. Lucia wouldn’t understand what he’d done.
“Tell me,” she insisted. The steely edge to her tone earned her a direct look. “That’s right. You need to tell me what happened. Right now.”