Now the kingsliege motioned toward a target twenty paces in front of them. Cleo nodded with confidence before expertly notching an arrow in her bow.
She drew back the string, aimed, and—
Magnus held his breath.
—the arrow flew straight up into the sky, as if she’d been targeting a cloud. It landed only a few paces away from her, burying itself in the snowy ground.
Hmm.
Kurtis edged closer to Cleo and gave her an encouraging smile as he handed her a new arrow to try again. She nodded firmly, then put the arrow into place, pulled back, aimed, and . . .
Magnus watched Kurtis shield his eyes from the sun as he followed the arrow’s upward path. Then, suddenly, he started and leapt out of the way to avoid being hit as it came back down.
Magnus covered his mouth to conceal his grin.
Oh, princess. You’re absolutely dreadful at this, aren’t you?
She tried twice more, with the same results, then threw the bow to the ground, stomped her foot, and gestured angrily at the target.
“Now, now,” Magnus said under his breath. “Don’t be a sore loser.”
Then, as if somehow she could hear him across such a distance, she turned in his direction. Their eyes met.
He froze, instantly remembering the painful animosity of their last confrontation and the fresh hatred that blazed in her eyes when she’d mentioned Theon.
But instead of turning away, he began to clap. “Oh, well done, princess. You’ve a natural gift.”
Cleo narrowed her eyes and frowned, then headed straight for the palace gate closest to Magnus, leaving Kurtis behind without a farewell. Magnus gave him a dark look, then strode over and met Cleo at the entrance.
She pulled off her gloves. “You can make fun of me all you want, I don’t care. You weren’t invited to watch.”
“This is my home, my palace. I can do anything I want, including watch you practice your incredible weaponry skills.” As much fun as it sometimes was to taunt her, he had more important matters on his mind. “Tell me, princess. When will your friends be returning?”
“I’ve already told you, Magnus, I have absolutely no idea. I’m quite sure that they would never have predicted you would be so upset by their absence. I’m certain that they’ll be back soon.”
“How can you be certain of that if you’ve no idea where or why they’ve gone?”
She smiled brightly. “Don’t you have a council meeting to go to?”
Avoiding the subject, princess? he thought. I’d expect no less. “They can wait.”
“Are you sure? If I were you, I wouldn’t want to do anything that might make them any unhappier than they already are.”
What very little patience he had left was waning. “Luckily, you’re not me.”
He knew Kurtis continued to fill the council’s ears with all kinds of tales of his ineptitude, telling them he’s a fool who makes poor decisions, who didn’t know how to lead. That rooster could crow all he wanted—it wouldn’t make any difference. Magnus knew he was a worthy leader. And, unlike both the council and his father, he actually cared about the lives of Limerians.
He sighed aloud. “Why do I bother to speak with you at all? We’ll never see eye to eye on any subject.”
“Perhaps it’s because you have no one else to talk to?”
The insult landed with a sting that he didn’t expect. A muscle in his scarred right cheek twitched. “How true. No one knows me like you do, princess.”
She looked at him with a furrowed brow. “That was unkind of me to say.”
“The truth is never unkind, princess. It’s liberating. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” Magnus turned and walked away from her before she could reply.
• • •
Several days later, Enzo arrived at his door. “They’re ready, your highness.”
Magnus nodded at the guard and rose from the table piled high with parchment. He was grateful for the chance to have a bit of respite from the monotony of staring at endless lines of small, cramped cursive for hours, by candlelight, trying to master each and every detail of each and every law of his land.
Enzo escorted him to the northwest tower, where the king kept cold quarters for high-profile prisoners who were too valuable to throw in the dungeon with the common thieves and criminals. The walls were coated with a thin layer of ice, but the guards were under orders to ensure that the temperature stayed bearable.
At the top of the narrow spiral staircase, Magnus stepped into a small, circular room to greet the tower’s two newest inhabitants.
“Welcome back.”
Two pairs of eyes stared back at him, one flashing with hatred, the other with pure emptiness. There was Nic, straining against the chains that held his arms above his head. Locked up right across from him was Jonas, who hung slack in his shackles.
“Why do you have us chained up like thieves?” snarled Nic. “Where is Cleo? I want to see Cleo!”
Magnus moved closer to him. “You’re chained up like a thief, dear Nicolo, because when I pledge a partnership with someone, I assume a certain level of trust going forward. I don’t leave in the night, without any word or hint at where I’m going. What you did is unacceptable. As far as I knew, you were off gathering an army to help overthrow me.”
“What an inspired idea. Wish I’d thought of it myself.”
“You still don’t think very much of me, do you, Cassian?” Magnus smiled and patted Nic’s cheek.
“You don’t want to know what I think of you.” Nic growled. “I need to see Cleo.”
“And I need you to tell me what you’ve been up to this last week so that we can all be friends again. Then again, it has been a while since I’ve seen an execution. That last one was quite entertaining. Remember, Agallon? It was very . . . explosive, no?”
Jonas neither responded nor moved.
Given the rebel’s usual defiance, his silence was unnerving to Magnus.
“We were acquiring a gift for the princess,” Nic said. “It takes time and effort to find something worthy.”
“I’d rather hear it from Agallon.” Magnus grasped the rebel’s chin and raised his face up, expecting Jonas to spit in his face. Instead, Jonas simply stared straight forward, his eyes glazed over and dull.
“What’s wrong with you?” Magnus frowned and flicked a glance at Nic. “Is he drunk?”
Nic’s expression had grown haunted. “No.”
Magnus let go of Jonas and walked a slow circle around the two prisoners. “Leave us,” he said to the guards.
The guards bowed and left, closing the door behind them.
“Where are the two girls you were traveling with? Lysandra and Olivia?” Magnus asked. Jonas and Nic had returned to the palace grounds alone.
“Olivia’s gone. And Lys . . .” Nic swallowed hard. “Lysandra’s dead.”
Jonas flinched, as if someone had cracked a whip against his back.
Magnus was silent for a moment, trying to process the shock and strange sensation of dread that came with this news. “How?” he asked.
Finally, Jonas rasped out: “Your sorceress sister.”
Magnus’s breath caught in his chest. “Lucia? You’ve seen Lucia?”