“Daily.” She nodded. “I read to her. She looks so peaceful I can sometimes fool myself that she’s only sleeping. I still have faith she’ll return to us soon, that she’s not lost to us forever.”
The king scoffed. “You try to make it sound as if you haven’t resented her existence since the day she was brought to Limeros.”
“I haven’t resented her.” The queen patted her graying hair, as if it might have come loose from the tight twist that drew her skin taut at her temples. “I love our daughter as if she was of my own womb.”
King Gaius gazed to the left at a fresco mural of a large sun shining down over the City of Gold and its inhabitants. “How interesting that it’s taken this tragedy to finally bring out your maternal instincts. For sixteen years you’ve ignored Lucia or treated her like a rag doll you can dress up and show off. I thank the goddess that she was a natural beauty; otherwise I imagine you’d have demoted her to servant girl a long time ago.”
Magnus saw his mother’s subtle flinch, which told him the king’s words cut deeply. But he couldn’t totally disagree with them.
“When she wakes I’ll be different with her,” the queen said softly. “I’ve seen the error in my ways and wish to make amends. I do care for Lucia—truly, I do. And I swear to the goddess I shall prove it.”
“That’s the spirit,” the king said, although his words were cold. “I have a new healer arriving tomorrow to take a look at her. I want her at the wedding if possible.”
“If it’s not, I’ll stay by her bedside.”
The king was silent for a moment. “No. You will attend the wedding either way.”
The queen fiddled with the sleeve of her dark green cloak. She frowned so deeply that deep lines appeared between her brows. “I don’t trust the Bellos girl, Gaius. There’s something in the girl’s eyes—something dark and sharp. I fear what she means to do to us. What she might do to Lucia or Magnus.”
This coaxed a laugh from Magnus. “Mother, don’t worry about me. I can handle the princess, even if there is a shadow of vengeance within her. She’s only a girl.”
“She hates us.”
“Of course she does,” the king said gently. “I took her throne, her father’s throne, her sister’s throne. I took it with force and blood. And I apologize for nothing.”
“Find Magnus another bride,” the queen urged. “I can think of several who’d be much better suited for him. Whom he might fall in love with in time.”
“Love? If Magnus wants love he can find it in a mistress, as I did. Not in a shrew of a wife.”
The queen blanched at this. “I only speak from my heart.”
“Mark my words, Althea . . .” A coldness entered the king’s tone. “Everything that will happen from this day forward, be it good or bad, shall happen because it is my choice. Because it serves me. And I warn you, do not cross me or—”
“Or what?” She raised her chin and looked directly into his eyes. “Will you take a blade to my throat as well? Is that how you silence every voice that opposes you?”
Fury flashed through the king’s gaze and he took a menacing step toward her, fists clenched at his sides.
Magnus stepped between them and he forced a smile to his face. “Tempers are rising with the heat of the day. Perhaps it’s time we leave.”
The king’s fiery glare fixed on him instead and slowly cooled. There was still a smudge of blood on his cheek from before, just under his left eye. “Yes. It’s time. Meet me outside when you’re ready.”
He turned his back on them and, a guard at each side, moved out of the cavernous temple and back into the bright light of day.
“We must go.” The queen’s voice caught as she turned in the same direction.
Magnus placed a hand on her shoulder before she’d taken more than a few steps. He turned her to face him and raised her chin so her tear-filled eyes met his. The pain he saw there reached into his chest to squeeze his heart. “I don’t remember the last time I saw you cry.”
She pushed his hand away. “And you shouldn’t be seeing it now.”
“He doesn’t take well to argument. You know this already.”
“He deals with argument as he always has. With an iron fist and a heart carved from ice.” She searched his face. “You don’t want this marriage, do you, my son?”
“What I want is irrelevant, Mother.”
It always is.
She was quiet for a moment. “You know I love you, don’t you?”
Magnus willed himself to remain impassive in the face of this unexpected sentimentality. The woman before him had been cold and distant for so long he’d forgotten she could be the opposite. “What has triggered this, Mother? Are you really that distraught over my being placed into a loveless marriage to strengthen my father’s grip on this slippery kingdom? Or is this due to something else? Lucia’s condition perhaps?”
The queen’s expression shuttered as she drew in a long, shaky breath. “It’s been a difficult year for us all. So much loss. So much death.”
“Yes, I know you were quite heartbroken over the king’s mistress being incinerated.”
A muscle in her cheek twitched. “I don’t mourn Sabina’s passing, nor do I spend much time distressed over the manner of her death. All I care about in this world is you and Lucia—you’re all that matters to me.”