No matter. Cleo had decided. They would be the best of friends.
Cleo conjured up her natural talent for being social and charming—a skill she hadn’t required in some time.
“Is there something you wish to say to me?” Lucia’s tone was alarmingly suspicious.
This would not be easy.
But Cleo remained composed. “Only that I hope I’ve said nothing to offend you. I was under the impression that we’d grown close after . . . what happened the other day.”
Lucia’s expression darkened. “I don’t want to talk about that.”
“I understand how difficult it must be for you.” To wield elementia so powerful that you can kill a living creature, Cleo thought. “But I’m here for you. I know I can help you.”
Lucia’s eyes shone icy blue beneath her raised brows. “Do you honestly believe you can help me?”
Oh, no. A short separation was all it had taken for Lucia to raise up her walls against anyone who might potentially be untrustworthy. Cleo would have to work very hard to break them down, stone by stone.
“I know what I saw,” Cleo said gently. “And I helped you. Just my presence was enough to help you contain your magic.”
Lucia wouldn’t look her in the eye. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. You saw me with a dead rabbit, that’s all. It means nothing.”
A dead rabbit frozen in the middle of a warm room by deadly water magic. That certainly meant something to Cleo. In fact, it meant everything to her.
The pursuit of magic and the power it promised had become the central purpose of her life.
“I said I wouldn’t tell anyone and I haven’t. We’re sisters now, Lucia.”
“Sisters.” Finally Lucia turned to face Cleo, her eyes flashing. “Why? Because you’re married to Magnus? You can barely look at each other. You loathe him and he you—I don’t care what you would have others believe.”
Venom rose in Cleo’s throat at these poisonous words, no matter how true they were. She wanted to strike back with her own poison, repeat the rumors she’d heard of Lucia and Magnus’s incestuous feelings for each other.
But she swallowed it all down instead.
She put on a mask of deep concern. “Is your magic troubling you again today?”
An edge of desperation flitted across Lucia’s eyes.
“I feel . . .” Lucia’s voice broke and she turned toward the rosebush. “I hate this. I hate being here. I hate these flowers and these trees and all I want is to go home to Limeros.”
But she wouldn’t be of any use at all to Cleo in Limeros.
“Because you felt more under control there?” she asked.
“Hardly. But it—it’s home.” Lucia let out a nervous laugh that sounded more like a hiccup. But the lightness vanished as soon as it arrived, and she once again looked harshly at Cleo, a frown creasing her brow. “What do you want from me?”
“I want to be your friend.”
“Why?”
Because I need your magic to destroy your father, she thought.
“Because in you I see someone who understands my world,” she said. “You’re the daughter of a king. Like me, you’ve had responsibilities and expectations thrust upon you your entire life. Very few understand how that feels. You do. And the other day I knew you needed me as much as I need you.”
“You need to forget what you saw,” Lucia whispered. “It’s too dangerous.”
A shiver coursed down Cleo’s spine. This sounded much more like a pained warning than a threat. “Dangerous for you? Or for me?”
“For both of us.” Something beyond Cleo caught Lucia’s gaze, and her expression soured.
Cleo turned to see Princess Amara approaching along the winding cobblestone pathway as two Kraeshian guards in dark green uniforms hung back near the castle entrance.
Cleo couldn’t be more annoyed. This uninvited guest was interrupting her precious private moment with Lucia. She’d only met Amara briefly at the banquet, but the girl hadn’t made a good impression. She was too eager, too familiar in her greeting, and Cleo had instinctively recoiled from the girl.
Her brother Ashur had made a similar first impression on Cleo. Were they friends or foes?
“I’ve been looking everywhere for you two,” Amara said brightly. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were avoiding me.”
“Certainly not,” Lucia replied. The faint uncertainty in her tone had been replaced by a confident crispness. “It’s a pleasure to see you again. Where is your brother?”
“Out exploring the area around the villa King Gaius is preparing for us.” Amara sighed and glanced at the flowers. “Ashur loves exploring the countryside. Alone, no less. He refuses the company of guards.”
“That sounds dangerous,” Cleo said.
“It does, doesn’t it? That’s my brother. An adventure seeker at any cost. Cleo, we barely had the chance to speak last night before you disappeared. Were you unwell?”
“Yes,” Cleo lied, happy to agree with this ready-made excuse. “My stomach couldn’t handle another bite of food.”
Amara raised her brow. “Are you with child?”
Cleo opened her mouth to immediately deny any possibility of this. Since, thankfully, it was absolutely not possible she was pregnant. She and Magnus had not . . .
Well, they had not. Nor would they ever. She shivered with disgust at the memory of standing so close to him on the balcony the previous night.