With Nic in tow, the journey continued on to Paelsia, and they toured through several villages and vineyards—though never coming near the Imperial Road, Cleo noticed. The poor villagers gathered to watch silently. Cleo’s presence did coax some children out of their homes, and they were fascinated by her beautiful and colorful dresses. The children’s eyes were filled with the boundless hope their elders lacked. Noticing this broke Cleo’s heart.
Paelsians were not fooled as Auranians were by anything the king said. These people had already seen his deception, his cruelty, with their own eyes. Such things could not be forgotten or forgiven.
By the time their entourage sailed up the coast to Limeros’s Black Harbor, Cleo was dismayed that she’d learned nothing useful about her ring, which sat heavy on her finger as it had since she first left the City of Gold. Nor had she learned anything more than repeated stories about the Kindred. The time to find such information grew shorter with every day that passed, and her anxiety grew.
Now that their journey had reached Limeros, Cleo had to bundle up in a thick ermine-lined cloak to keep out the chill of the frigid, frozen landscape. Where Auranos had a palace that literally sparkled like a jewel under the bright sunshine, the Limerian castle seemed to absorb light, killing it on contact. It was large and black and ominous, its spires rising up into the cold sky like the claws of a demon. Its windows were the only thing that reflected light, much like the eyes of some ravenous beast.
Magnus’s true home suited him perfectly.
“Is that all of them?” Magnus asked, eyeing the trunks that Nic had unloaded from the carriages.
“It is, your grace.” To his credit, Nic managed to say this without sounding sarcastic. Sweat coated Nic’s brow after he’d singlehandedly dragged all of their luggage chests into the castle.
“Good. Now go see to the horses. I must check if there are any messages waiting for me here from my father.” He turned on the heels of his black leather boots and stalked off down the hall without another word.
“I hate him,” Nic snarled.
“So do I,” Cleo replied.
“Could have fooled me by how much you’ve been snuggling up to him on this trip.”
She grabbed his arm as he was about to walk away, digging her fingers in until he looked at her again. “Anything you think you see between us is for show only. Remember that.”
Nic’s shoulders slumped. “Apologies, Cleo. Of course I know that. This all must be so hard for you.”
“Thank the goddess you’re here with me.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Oh?”
She grinned, his hurtful words already forgotten. “I mean, who else would carry my chests of gowns so well?”
He laughed as she pulled him into a tight hug, never wanting to let him go. “I’m here for you, Cleo. Whenever you need me.”
She nodded, pressing her face against the rough fabric of his uniform. “I know.”
“You’re so brave—spending time with that monster. Forced to share his bed.” A look of hatred crossed his face as he leaned back from her. “Every night I imagine killing him for you.”
Cleo grabbed hold of Nic’s hands, squeezing them tightly in hers. “Don’t worry about me. I can handle the prince.” She wanted to tell him that Magnus did not share her bed and that she spent every night alone, but she held her tongue. No one, not even Nic, could know such things. “Please rest up so you can be by my side tomorrow. I need all the support I can get.”
“I’ll rest up. As soon as I take care of the horses for his majesty.”
“See you tomorrow.” She went up on her tiptoes to kiss Nic’s cheek. At the last moment he turned his face so she kissed his lips instead.
This earned her a newly brightened ear-to-ear grin. “Till tomorrow, princess.”
After a sleepless night, she’d been woken early by Dora and Helena, who were just as disrespectful to her here as they were at the Auranian castle. They helped her dress and look presentable. She wore a new fur-lined cloak draped over one of her finest new gowns. This, as well as the cloak, was red, to pay tribute to the official color of Limeros. The color of blood. Likely, not a coincidence at all. On the sleeves of the gown, golden snakes were embroidered, the kingdom’s sigil. Also appropriate for a kingdom filled to overflowing with serpents.
Outside the castle, following in Magnus’s footsteps, she turned a distracted glance toward the gathered nobles who’d joined them today for an official presentation of a wedding gift by Lord Gareth, a close friend of the king’s. To their left was a pathway that wound through the ice gardens and into an intricate labyrinth of frostcovered hedges. To the right was a large clearing with a long, rectangular frozen pond, which led toward the castle itself. Beautiful, but stark and pristine. Not an ounce of warmth existed in any direction.
“This is said to have belonged to the Watchers themselves.”
Her gaze immediately snapped back to Lord Gareth. She finally noticed the object they had halted near, the gift from Lord Gareth. It was a carved stone wheel taller than Cleo’s shoulder that protruded from the frozen ground at the entrance to the gardens.
“What about the Watchers?” she asked, struggling to keep her voice steady.
“Oh yes,” Magnus said. “Please tell us. It’s all so fascinating.”
It was rare that the prince said anything that didn’t mock whomever he spoke with. It was equally rare, she’d found, that anyone caught on to this as easily as she did.