Rebel Spring (Falling Kingdoms #2)(11)
“My decision,” said the king. “Yes, my decision to unite my son and the young Cleiona. But this was before I learned the truth about her. Magnus, tell me, what should happen now? Do you wish to sully yourself by a betrothal to a girl like this?”
Ah, so now he’d come to the inevitable fork in the road. How appropriate, since roads were so much on his father’s mind today.
One word from him could break this ludicrous engagement and free him from any ties to the princess, who made no attempt to hide her bottomless hatred for him. Reflected in her eyes was the brutal moment that had changed Magnus forever.
It wasn’t so much that Theon Ranus had been Magnus’s first kill. The young guard had to die, for he would have killed Magnus without question in order to defend the princess he loved. It was the fact that Magnus had slain the boy by stabbing him through his back that would forever haunt him. That had been the act of a coward, not a prince.
“Well, my son?” the king prompted. “Do you wish to end this betrothal? The decision is yours.”
Up until today, his father had valued Cleo as a symbol of his new and tenuous hold on Auranos. Despite his well-known reputation as a harsh king who doled out punishment without mercy, King Gaius wished to be respected and admired by his new subjects rather than feared, wooing them with pretty speeches and lofty promises of a bright future. Such citizens would be much easier to control—especially with a Limerian army now spread thin across three kingdoms—and the king believed this would quell any anarchy, beyond a few scattered but troublesome rebels.
Despite what had been revealed about the princess, Magnus believed Cleo would continue to be a valuable asset during this tenuous time of transition. A piece of golden power to light the dark path ahead.
Power mattered to his father. And it mattered to Magnus as well.
Whatever power he could gain for himself was not something to be cast aside without forethought. And while he wished he could go home to Limeros as fast as a ship could take him, he knew it was impossible. His father wanted to stay in this gilded palace.
While here, Magnus would have to make choices that best served him now and in the future.
“It’s a difficult decision, Father,” Magnus finally said. “Princess Cleiona is most certainly a complicated girl.” More so than he ever thought possible. Perhaps he was not the only one who felt the need to wear masks every day. “She has admitted to sacrificing her chastity to this boy. Have there been others, princess?”
Cleo’s cheeks flushed, but by the look in her fierce gaze, it was more from fury than embarrassment. Still, he felt it was a valid question. She had claimed to love the dead guard—a claim she’d never put forth about Lord Aron. Just how many had warmed the Auranian princess’s bed?
“There has been no one else.” Each word was a snarl. And thanks to the steady, unflinching look in her aquamarine eyes, he believed her.
He didn’t speak for a moment, instead letting the seconds stretch to an uncomfortable length. “If that’s so, then I don’t see any logical reason why this engagement should be broken.”
“You accept her?” the king asked.
“Yes. But let’s hope there aren’t any more surprises when it comes to my future bride.”
Cleo’s mouth had dropped open in shock. Perhaps she didn’t realize that this distasteful match was all about Magnus’s power and nothing else.
“Unless you require anything further of me, Father,” Magus said evenly, “I would like to visit my sister’s bedside.”
“Yes, of course.” The king watched Magnus with a narrowed, appraising gaze, as if he too had been surprised his son hadn’t taken the opportunity to end the unexpected betrothal. Magnus turned and walked briskly out of the throne room, hoping that he hadn’t just made a very costly mistake.
? ? ?
The attendant jumped as Magnus pushed through the wooden doors to Lucia’s chambers. Her gaze dropped to the floor and she twisted a finger nervously through her long, dark red hair.
“Apologies, Prince Magnus. You startled me.”
Ignoring her, he moved into the room, his attention solely focused on the girl in the canopied bed. So unlike their more austere Limerian living quarters, these had marble floors and thick fur rugs. Colorful tapestries depicting beautiful meadows and fantastical animals—one appeared to be a rabbit crossed with a lion—adorned the walls. Bright sunshine fell in soft rays from the glass doors leading out to the balcony. Fireplaces were not constantly being attended to keep the cold from seeping into the palace, for here in Auranos the climate was warm and temperate compared to Limeros’s ice and frost. The sheets upon this bed were made from luxurious, pale silk, which only made Lucia’s raven-colored hair seem that much darker, her lips that much more red.
His sister’s beauty always caught him by surprise.
His sister. It was how he’d always viewed Lucia. Only recently had he come to learn that she was adopted, stolen from her cradle in Paelsia and brought to his father’s castle to be raised as the Limerian princess—all because of a prophecy. One that said Lucia would become a sorceress able to channel all four parts of elementia: air, fire, water, and earth magic.
The confusion of learning she was not his sister by blood, the relief that his unnatural desire for her was not truly one of the dark sins, and her look of disgust when he’d been unable to hold back his need to kiss her—all flowed through his mind now.