“Lucia is your sister and she’s not bad,” Cleo said.
“You want truth, princess? Lucia was adopted. We share no blood, not that it makes any difference to her. I’m sure you’ve heard the rumor—a brother who lusts after his own sister. It’s all true. But don’t worry. She didn’t sully herself with the notion that we could ever be together. That was my fantasy alone, not hers. I disgust her every bit as much as I disgust you. That’s one thing you have in common with this girl you’re attempting to blossom a friendship with.”
Cleo looked stricken with shock. He knew that these admissions were spilling from his lips like wine from an overturned cask, but he didn’t really care anymore.
“I must admit, she doesn’t torture me as much as she used to, by day and by night,” he went on. “Lately my more troubling dreams have shifted from ones of my dark-haired sister to ones of a princess with hair of pale gold.” He took up a lock of Cleo’s waist-length hair and twisted it around his index finger. He stared at it, transfixed. “Dreams of the one I was bound to against my wishes.”
Her cerulean eyes widened. “You dream about me?”
His gaze snapped back to hers. “Nightmares only.”
He wished they were only nightmares.
Magnus tried to pull back from her, but she grabbed hold of his shirt.
“Rather than always fighting ,” she whispered, “we could find a way to help each other. It’s possible we have similar goals.”
Such words were more than enough to sign her death warrant. Was she so stupid as to say these things to the son of the king?
Or did she really know him so well that she felt confident being so bold?
Cleo wanted her throne back. There was no doubt about it. She wanted her kingdom returned to her family name, and she wanted his father dead so he would never again hurt anyone she loved. She fought quietly but fiercely for this with every day that passed, every word she spoke.
And in this moment, he thought she was the bravest and most beautiful girl he’d ever known.
The effects of the wine still swirled through his mind and body, the world sparkling all around him. But one thought was crystal clear.
This princess, who looked at him tonight with hope rather than hate shining in her eyes . . . if he let her, she could destroy him.
Magnus slid his hands down her silk gown and circled her narrow waist. He could feel the rapid beat of her heart he pressed himself against her.
She drew in a shaky breath as his mouth brushed the curve of her ear.
“Tell me, princess,” he whispered. “What would Theon say if he could know you’d allow me to get this close to you?”
Cleo gasped and shoved him back. Her eyes were wide and already glossy with tears at the harsh reminder of her lost love.
She slapped Magnus across his face and the sting of it impressed him. She was much stronger than she appeared.
“How dare you even speak his name!” she hissed, tears splashing to her cheeks.
This was the reaction he’d hoped for, the one that could put an end to this dangerous confrontation. “It took no effort at all to shove that sword through his back and send him to the ever after.” He forced himself to smirk. “And yet now you suggest an alliance with me. How soon you have forgotten who your true enemies are, princess. It makes me question your intelligence.”
Cleo’s cheeks flamed. “I hate you.”
“Good. You should never forget your place in this palace. You continue to live only because my father doesn’t yet want you dead. You have no power here. And, most especially, you have no power over me.”
He watched her reel with emotion, and then her gaze became flat and dead, the bright rosiness of her anger fading from her cheeks. Her guard was back up—not a surprise when it came to him.
“Much gratitude for the reminder,” she said.
“Good evening, princess.” With that, Magnus left the temple, not even glancing at Cronus, who still waited outside.
“The princess?” Cronus asked.
He flicked his hand. “Let her worship to her heart’s content. I don’t care what she does.”
“Your opinions have changed much in the short time you were inside.”
“Nothing has changed. I just remembered how apathetic I am about that deceitful creature.”
“Apathetic, are you?”
Magnus shot a sharp glare at Cronus. “Yes.”
“If you say so.”
He did. And he returned to the palace by way of the darkening city streets without taking any more detours into dangerous places.
Once inside the palace walls, he went straight to the courtyard to be alone with his dark thoughts. His mind was still in a drunken fog, but he knew the morning would bring regrets about speaking so many secret truths.
The truth about Lucia’s adoption and his feelings for her.
And the truth about Cleo.
What truth about Cleo? There was no truth. She was merely a girl he’d been forced to marry. But if he felt nothing for her, why did he continue to protect her? He hadn’t even realized that’s what he’d been doing until she’d brought it to his attention, but she was right. Time and again, he’d chosen to keep her safe.
Magnus remembered all too clearly his encounter with Theon Ranus. It had been his first kill. At the time, he hadn’t known that Theon was protecting Cleo not only because he was a palace guard sent to retrieve the princess from a dangerous land but because he loved her. And she loved him.
It wasn’t just his father’s orders that had seen Magnus there that day. It was fate. Back then, he’d just been a boy with no experience in battle.
He’d slain the guard to save his own life. He regretted nothing about it now . . . except for the look of pure hatred in Cleo’s eyes after the deed had been done.
But she was the daughter of Limeros’s enemy. His father had conquered Cleo’s kingdom and she should be grateful that they’d allowed her to live another day.
That he even spared her a single thought when there were so many more important things to think about was beyond ridiculous.
Pacing the courtyard, he told himself that she was nothing more to him than an inconvenience.
“My goodness, Prince Magnus, you look rather upset. Is everything all right?”
He spun on his heels to see Princess Amara seated in the shadows on a nearby bench. The moonlight glinted against her dark hair and the jewels she wore at her throat.
“Apologies. I didn’t notice you there,” he said.
In the wake of the attack, the king had insisted that Amara stay at the palace for a couple of days, thinking there might still be some rebels nearby. It was a courtesy the king had extended only because he felt he had no other choice—potential enemy or not, it wouldn’t look good for him to throw this royal girl to the wolves.
“I’m glad for the chance to speak with you alone.” Amara stood up from the bench. “I wanted to apologize for what happened at the villa.”
Magnus tried his best to be as cordial to her as possible, despite his current mood. “What do you mean?”
“When I kissed you.” She looked up at him without a hint of shyness. “I feel I may have offended you.”
“Not at all.” If only stolen kisses from beautiful visiting princesses were his only problem.
Amara drew closer to him. “You and I have so much in common, don’t we? Our fathers are both important men with the insatiable desire to grow their power.”
“True enough.”
Amara was so vastly different from Cleo. She was just as intriguing and beautiful, certainly, but Magnus wasn’t drawn to Amara like a moth to a flame. She didn’t have the power to burn him to the ground with a look, with a touch.
She studied him through the darkness. “Sometimes it’s nice to find a kindred spirit, even if the s
ituation is not entirely ideal. It’s good to find solace with someone like that, to perhaps indulge in a night of pleasure with an understanding friend when, by day, the world is full of enemies. Don’t you agree?”
He didn’t have to search too far to understand her meaning.
“I agree completely,” he said.
He pulled her to him and crushed his mouth against hers, breathing her in, letting her command his senses.
Yes. She was exactly what he needed tonight.
CHAPTER 18
CLEO
AURANOS
It didn’t seem to matter whether the previous day had been good or bad; the sun would always rise the next morning. And for the briefest moment, as warm rays streamed through Cleo’s window and touched her face, it seemed as if everything was back to the way it had been before. Her father and sister were alive and well. Her friends were preparing for parties and outings. The palace was filled with happiness and life.
But the daydream was over as soon as it had arrived, and she remembered that those visions were now only the ghosts of a past that continued to haunt her.
But she accepted this new reality. She had no choice here, only determination. And patience.
Nerissa arrived at her chambers to help her with her hair. The ex-seamstress had been assigned as her new handmaiden only yesterday, replacing two horrible Limerian girls. Seemingly capable of manipulating her way into any position at the palace, she had sought out the reassignment herself. This was an enviable skill, to say the least, and Cleo was grateful to have someone to talk to who knew the same secrets she did. Already Cleo had trusted the girl to deliver a message to Jonas about the king’s confirmed interest in the Kindred. She hoped to have more information to aid the rebels soon.
“Did you find out how many were killed?” Cleo asked now.
“Twenty-seven,” Nerissa said, meeting her gaze in the mirror.
“So many.” Cleo had already known of the plan to rescue Lysandra and the other rebel. Nic had told her of his agreement to assist Jonas at the palace by disguising him and his associate in Limerian uniforms and ushering them safely from the city. Her fear for Nic’s safety had almost trumped her trust in Jonas’s abilities, and she had been very close to insisting that Nic bow out of the deal. But Nic had insisted it was the right thing to do. It was an act of rebellion that the king couldn’t ignore.
And the fact that Nic’s bullies Milo and Burrus had been blamed for the explosions and now sat in the dungeon awaiting their fates didn’t cause her heart any unrest.
But those twenty-seven people who had been killed in the process unsettled her deeply. So much damage, so much suffering. Had Jonas felt that this much loss of life was warranted?
“I wish there’d been another way,” Cleo said.
“I know, princess. But don’t lose faith. Jonas only wants the best for all of us.”
Cleo twisted her amethyst ring, trying to take strength from it. “So, basically, he’s the very opposite of Prince Magnus.”
“I like to think so.”
Memories of last night replayed in her mind. She’d gone to the temple on a whim, to pray and be silent with her thoughts. But then he’d shown up.
To think that for even a second she’d been so close to . . . what? Trusting him? Believing he was something more than a cruel boy who took pleasure in torturing her?
She was such a fool.
“I hate him,” she spat. “I hate him so much I can barely see straight.”
Nerissa wove Cleo’s long pale locks into a thick plait, which she then wound into a loose bun at the nape of her neck before pinning it securely into place. “Yes, that’s definitely your problem.”
Was that judgment in her voice?
Cleo blinked with surprise. “Excuse me?”
“Hatred is like fire. It burns the one who harnesses it. It’s also extremely hard to see more helpful truths through its flames.”
Nerissa was wise beyond her eighteen years.
“You’re absolutely right,” Cleo said, her brow furrowed as she remembered her conversation with the prince. She pushed past the blinding flames of her hatred toward the boy who’d thrown Theon’s death back in her face, making her deeply regret thinking she might be able to trust him.
But she wasn’t the only one who shared dark truths last night. Magnus had told her that Lucia was adopted—a revelation more shocking than his confirmation of his feelings toward her.
Perhaps Magnus had realized he was opening himself up too much, peeling back the hateful layers that concealed his true self. He knew he needed to push her away before he revealed too much of himself . . . and of what he had in common with Cleo.
He’d succeeded, at the time.
But today was a new day.
Cleo had allowed herself to be manipulated by the memory of Theon’s death, and Magnus had managed to push her away when she’d gotten too close.
Nerissa was correct. Fire burned. Fire blinded.
Clever, Magnus, she thought. Very clever.
But not clever enough.
• • •
With every step she took toward Magnus’s chambers, Cleo wavered between having confidence and doubting what she was about to attempt.
Magnus’s natural demeanor was acidic, his manners unpleasant at best. But he’d also saved her. Helped her. Kept her secrets.
There had to be more to him.
When she reached his door, she allowed herself a moment of hesitation.
I can do this, she told herself. I need to be strong.
She raised her hand to knock, but before she could make contact, the door swung open and she found herself face-to-face with Princess Amara.
Amara smiled brightly. “Good morning, Cleo.”
Stunned, Cleo merely stood there and blinked. “Amara, I—I didn’t expect to see you, here.” Her gaze then fell to the partially unfastened ties on the girl’s dress.
Amara’s brows drew together. “Oh, dear. This isn’t a problem, is it? I’d assumed, based on what I’d heard, that such affairs were unimportant to you.”
Cleo glanced past Amara to see Magnus approaching the doorway. His dark hair was messy and his shirt was missing, revealing more bare skin than she’d ever seen on him before.
The realization that these two had spent the night together hit her like a lead weight.
“To what do I owe this unexpected visit, princess?” Magnus leaned against the door frame, showing no sign he was having difficulty recovering from all the alcohol he’d consumed last night. Apparently good Paelsian wine caused no ill effects other than loose tongues, spilled secrets, and the inability to care who shared one’s bed.
Cleo grappled to find words to fill the silence. “After our harsh words last night I thought we should speak again. But I see you’re otherwise occupied.”
“I was just leaving.” Amara cast a worried look at Magnus through her thick eyelashes. “Have I crossed the line?”
“No line I didn’t want you to cross.” He put his arm around her waist, drew her back against him, and kissed her. “I’ll see you again soon.”
“Good day, Cleo.” Amara gave her a tight smile, then slipped past her and down the hallway. Cleo watched her go until she disappeared around a corner.
She’d heard all about the conversation Nic had had with the Cortases at their villa a few days ago, and it had made her head spin with both possibility and doubt. She knew she would have a great deal to consider before making any decisions or allegiances, no matter how powerful they were.
From what she’d seen this morning, however, it seemed as if Princess Amara was offering up alliances to everyone.
“She really is stunningly beautiful, isn’t she?” Magnus said. “Her beauty makes me wonder why I’ve never thought to visit Kraeshia before. I’ll have to make a point to go there soon.
Now, you said you wanted to speak with me? I can’t imagine what we have to discuss.”
She cast him a dark look. “What will the servants say?”
“About?”
“Don’t you care about the rumors they’ll spread? There are already so many about you and Lucia . . . but now they’ll start talking about you and I not sharing the same bed!”
He studied her with flatness in his dark eyes. “Apologies, princess, but I’m sure they’re already well aware of that. Besides, the servants can say whatever they want, it doesn’t bother me. Our marriage is meaningless. We share nothing but an unfortunate arrangement neither of us chose. That you’re the least bit surprised that I’d choose to share my bed with someone else is laughable at best.” She gave him a look that was livid enough to make him laugh. “Do I deserve another slap? Don’t try it, or this time you might get slapped in return.”
Why had she come here? It was pointless to try to reason with this loathsome creature. “I wouldn’t waste my energy.”
“Excellent. Now say what you have to say and be done with it. I need to get dressed.”
Another unnecessary reminder that he was currently half-naked.
“It was nothing,” she bit out. “A mistake.”
“Oh? Or perhaps seeing Amara temporarily removed any other thoughts from your mind. Did it bother you to find her here?” He smiled, looking like a predator baring its teeth. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous, because I won’t believe it.”
Her cheeks burned at the very suggestion. “Not jealous, Magnus. Appalled. Disgusted. Embarrassed.”
“That is quite a litany of emotions. So many, princess, all directed at me and whom I choose to sleep with. Interesting.”
The fire of her hatred was blinding. Cleo could barely see past the flames, but a sharp burst of laughter escaped her lips. “Believe me, Prince Magnus, I don’t care who you sleep with. Servant, courtesan, or . . . or goat. It’s less than meaningless to me.”
“I highly doubt I’d ever choose a goat.”
“Doesn’t seem that way to me.”
He curled up his lips as he leaned closer. “Your tongue is sharp for so early an hour. Amara’s was much less sharp. I should know; I got to know it very well last night.”