“I did, until she nearly choked me to death with her magic while her tutor was meeting with the king.”
What? Cleo must have been with her just before she ran off with Alexius. The thought that Lucia had run away with that exiled Watcher stirred his fury like nothing else. “What did you say today to push her so fully into his arms?”
Cleo raised her brow. “Alexius’s arms? What do you mean?” Then her eyes narrowed, as if coming to a realization. “It torments you that she’s in love with him and not with you, doesn’t it? How sad.”
He clenched his right hand into a fist so tightly his short fingernails bit painfully into his palms. “Let’s get back to the subject at hand, shall we? What have you told the rebels?”
“Nothing,” she said. “I haven’t met with any rebels. I’m a prisoner in this palace and have been for months.”
“Wrong. You’re allowed access to the temple and that is where you were seen with Jonas Agallon two weeks ago.”
Her gaze remained steely and determined, never looking away, never flinching. “Lies. Who saw me? You? The king? A guard?”
“It doesn’t matter who saw you.”
“Yes, it does. If someone is accusing me of something as serious as this, I deserve to know the name of my accuser.”
Cronus and the other guard stood silently, watching as Magnus moved close enough to whisper in her ear, loud enough for only Cleo to hear. “Did you tell him about the earth crystal? Is that why it wasn’t there when we arrived?”
“The last time I saw Jonas Agallon was when I escaped from his rebel camp in the Wildlands, where he was holding me as his kidnapped prisoner.”
She was very convincing, a skilled liar. He wondered if she’d always been this way, even back before her throne had been taken from her, or if this was a skill she’d only recently developed.
Or perhaps she spoke the truth and the king was the paranoid one, looking for the perfect excuse to get rid of her once and for all.
“You said Lucia tried to kill you today.”
“She did.”
“Why would she do something like that? Did she suspect you of being more of a traitor than a dear friend?”
“She did it because she can’t control her magic with him around.” Fresh emotion flashed in her eyes with an intensity that surprised him. “Even with the ring, she struggles with the darkness of her elementia. And I see it in his eyes—he likes that struggle. He wants her to go out of control.”
“You don’t trust Alexius.”
“Not for a moment.”
“Alexius and Lucia eloped today. I can only assume it was he who convinced her,” Magnus said.
Cleo’s eyes went wide. “What? No, he doesn’t want to marry her. He—he’s using her to find the rest of the Kindred. You’re her brother. You need to help her!”
“I’m not her brother. Not really. And she’s made it perfectly clear to me that she wants nothing more to do with me.” He glanced over his shoulder at the guards, then returned his attention to the restrained princess. “You and I? I think we’re finished here. You’ll tell me nothing more I need to know.”
“I know where they’ve gone,” she said, raising her chin. “And it’s not here in the palace city, or any other township in Auranos. Free me from this place and I promise I’ll tell you.”
He stood in silence, looking from the sawdust at his feet to the princess before him, considering his options. They were few and far between.
“Are you finished with your interrogation, your highness?” Cronus asked, his sword flashing in the entryway.
Magnus looked to Cleo. Her eyes flashed with fear as she realized how this was to end.
“That’s right,” he said evenly. “You’ve been sentenced to death by the king for being under suspicion of aiding a rebel. We will carry out the execution immediately.”
She began to tremble. “No, don’t do this. You’re better than this, Magnus. You’re not like your father. You’re capable of good, I’ve seen it in your eyes. I know it in my heart!”
“In your heart?” He laughed, a dry, brittle sound that hurt the back of his throat. “Those are rather flowery words for a time like this, but you should save your breath. It’s time for this to end.”
As soon as the words were out, Cronus shifted his expression into a battle mask: his eyes cold, serpentine, and free of emotion, just as they’d been the day he slayed Gregor. Even when tasked with executing a helpless sixteen-year-old girl, he didn’t flinch.
The futures of Mytica, the king, and of Magnus himself—they all depended on Cleo’s death here and now.
She struggled with the rope binding her wrists as Cronus drew closer, as if she had any hope of freeing herself. But even in the face of imminent death, she didn’t cry out. She didn’t scream, didn’t beg.
Cronus raised his sword, preparing to thrust it through the fine silk of her bodice. He would make it a quick death without excessive pain and suffering—over fast, in the blink of an eye with only a moment of pain to endure.
But before Cronus could send the blade through Cleo’s heart, he halted for a mere fraction of a second.
Because another blade found his heart first.
Cronus gasped, looking down at the tip of the sword impaling him from behind. He dropped his weapon and fell to his knees on the dungeon cell floor.