Falling Kingdoms Page 13

  It was too bad that he’d been born missing a backbone.

  She forced a smile to her lips, one that brought a light of optimism back to the boy’s eyes.

  “Perhaps another time. Good day, Michol.”

  She returned to the castle without a backward glance, anger toward her brother swelling with every beat of her heart as she quickly made her way through the shadowy halls. Magnus was interfering, overprotective, deeply annoying, and incredibly vexing. She turned the next corner.

  “Lucia,” Queen Althea said, with no warmth in her voice. Lucia froze in place at the sight of her mother.

  “Yes, Mother?”

  The queen’s dark hair had turned gray in streaks. Her face was pale and drawn, and she seemed to peer down her nose at her daughter even though they were the exact same height. “What mischief are you up to this afternoon? And why are your cheeks so red?”

  “No mischief. I was outside. It...it’s cold.”

  “It’s the dead of winter. Of course it’s cold. Why were you outside?”

  It always seemed to be the dead of winter in Limeros. Lucia cleared her throat, immediately on guard under her mother’s close scrutiny. “I’m looking for Magnus. Do you know when he’ll be returning from the hunt with Father?”

  “Soon, I’m sure.” Her lips thinned, and her eyes scanned the length of her daughter with distaste. “Your hair is a mess. You really shouldn’t leave your chambers looking so slovenly. Someone might see you.”

  Lucia grimaced and touched her tangled hair. “I didn’t think I looked that bad.”

  “Well, you do. I’ll have a maid sent to your room immediately to help you look decent again.”

  Her cheeks felt tight, her insides turning hot as lava. “That’s . . . so kind of you, Mother.”

  “Think nothing of it.”

  It was never a question of telling the queen her secret. While her mother had given Lucia life, she’d never given her a moment’s kindness since. Lucia wondered if the woman was capable of showing love to anyone. She’d never seen evidence of it, apart from a few moments of motherly preening in front of company. Lucia had learned at an early age to seek approval elsewhere since it would never come from the queen herself. So she’d turned to books and learning. Any praise she received had been from her tutors. From Magnus. And, occasionally, from her father. She didn’t go out of her way to seek her mother’s approval, nor would she ever.

  “Go back to your room, daughter,” the queen said, her voice clipped. “Don’t delay. We can’t have anyone see the Limerian princess looking like you do.”

  “Very well.” Despite her disinterest in her mother’s opinion, Lucia had rarely felt as ugly in her entire life as she did at that very moment. She turned away from the queen and began to head toward her room, dreading the visit from the maid to help with her appearance. If her mother sent the usual one, she would be rough and pull her hair, leaving Lucia with a headache for the rest of the day.

  In pain, but looking presentable. Just as the queen wishes. After her frustrating conversations with both Michol and her mother, she felt utterly annoyed. And tangled. And, admittedly, a bit frizzy.

  “Lucia,” a voice greeted her before she reached her destination. “Darling, is there something wrong?”

  Sabina Mallius stood in her path, blocking her path to her room. And now this, Lucia thought.

  “Nothing’s wrong,” Lucia said evenly. “But thank you for your concern.” While she bore no strong love for her mother, she’d never speak ill of the queen to her father’s mistress.

  “Let me guess.” Sabina gave her a pinched but sympathetic look. “You just spoke to Althea.”

  “My hair is messy,” Lucia explained. Sabina was beautiful, from morning until night as if it took no effort at all to look that way.

  “Your hair looks gorgeous to me—wild and free, not trapped and severe,” Sabina said with a wave of her hand. “Don’t let anyone ever tell you differently. Even your mother.”

  While her words were delivered flippantly, there was an edge to them.

  “Are you angry with me?” Lucia asked on a hunch.

  Sabina’s eyebrows went up. “With you? Whatever for?”

  “Never mind, I suppose. I apologize; I’m sure I’m imagining things.”

  Despite the queen’s unpleasantness and lack of visible emotion toward her daughter, she had a great deal of influence over Lucia. She’d drummed it into her daughter’s head that being dutiful, being polite, and looking neat and polished were the main qualities a true princess should cultivate.

  Also, that Sabina Mallius was evil incarnate.

  Queen Althea was threatened by the king’s mistress living side by side with the rest of them all these years, even if she would rather cut out her own tongue than admit such a thing.

  “Are you certain that everything’s all right, my dear?” Sabina asked. “You look terribly upset.”

  “Do I?” Lucia had to work harder on her mask of indifference. Her brother had his perfectly formed, but her emotions still played on her face more than they should. Emotions could be used against her.

  Emotions could trigger the strange . . . happenings that had been swirling around her lately like the beginnings of an ice storm.

  “I’m searching for Magnus,” Lucia said. “I want to talk to him when he returns from the hunt.”

  Although she was no longer sure she would tell him her secret quite yet. First she wanted to discuss the matter of him running off any boy who showed romantic interest in her.

  “They’re back,” Sabina replied. “I saw them from my window approaching the castle only minutes ago. What do you want to talk to Magnus about?”

  Lucia tensed. “Nothing that would interest you.”

  Sabina looked closely at her. “I want you to know something, dear. And I mean it from the very bottom of my heart.”

  “What’s that?”

  “If you feel like there’s no one you can confide in, know that you can come to me.” Sabina studied her face as if searching for some hidden answer. “Anything, Lucia. Anything at all. You’re a young woman now, and the changes you’re experiencing must be very difficult for you. I can help. Even if those changes might seem unusual or...frightening.”

  Lucia inhaled sharply. It was as if Sabina knew her secret without ever being told. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  Sabina’s eyes narrowed a fraction. “The worst thing is to have a horrible secret that you fear could be dangerous but no one to share it with. No one to trust. Do you understand?”

  Lucia stared at her, mouth dry, unspeaking.

  Sabina pulled her closer and lowered her voice to a whisper. “Because some of us share the same dangerous secret, Lucia. And I assure you it’s nothing to fear. I can help you when you need me. And you will need me.”

  The same secret.

  This was an opportunity right here to tell this woman everything. To unburden her soul of her strange discoveries. Of her strange new abilities.

  But the words would not form on her tongue. She was not so stupid as to blurt out the truth to just anyone, no matter what they might say to coax it from her. “If there’s anything I need to share, I promise to seek you out.”

  A muscle under Sabina’s right eye twitched, almost imperceptibly. But then she nodded. “Very well, then. I’ll see you at dinner, dear.”

  Lucia began to walk away from Sabina, forcing herself not to speed her steps. Likely, she mistook Sabina’s meaning. The woman couldn’t possibly know what was wrong with her. And the thought that Sabina might have the same strange abilities that had surfaced for her...

  Impossible. There would have been some indication before this that Sabina was different.

  No, Lucia had held her tongue and would continue to do so.

 
Sabina was right about one thing. Her father and Magnus had returned from the hunt. They were taking off their muddy boots in the foyer, a cylindrical room that had a ceiling as high as the entire castle itself. The smooth stone staircase cut into the cold stone wall, spiraling down to the main floor from the upper levels. Lucia quietly descended these stairs, keeping her brother directly in her sights. Despite the distractions she’d had since entering the castle, her anger toward Magnus hadn’t decreased even a fraction.

  A messenger approached her father and handed him a letter. The king sliced the envelope open and quickly read it.

  His brow raised. “Excellent,” Lucia heard him say.

  “What is it?” Magnus asked.

  “Chief Basilius has officially agreed to join forces with Limeros. He likes my plan.” His jaw tensed. “And he was deeply honored by my sacrifice.”

  “Should I offer congratulations now or wait until after you conquer Auranos?” Magnus asked dryly after a moment.

  Lucia stopped moving and inhaled sharply. Conquer Auranos?

  “Before, during, after. It’s all good.” The king let out a humorless laugh. “This is all good news, my son. This is an important day that will live in infamy. And all of this one day will be yours. Every last piece of it. It’s my legacy to you.”

  Magnus shifted his gaze as if he sensed Lucia’s presence. Their eyes met. There was a hint of something in his expression that Lucia hadn’t remembered seeing there before.

  Greed.

  It was like looking at a complete stranger. A chill went through her, freezing her in place. But it was only for a split second before his brown eyes regained their normal warmth and humor. She let out the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding as she finally reached the bottom of the stairs.

  “Lucia,” he said with a smile.

  She chose to pretend that she hadn’t heard anything they’d been discussing. Her father despised eavesdroppers. “We must talk, brother.”

  “Oh?”

  “I spoke with Michol earlier.”

  His dark brows drew together. “Michol?”

  “Fine boy,” the king said with a nod. “I believe he’s smitten with you, daughter.”

  Clarity shone in Magnus’s eyes. “He visited you, did he?”

  “He told me of the talk you had together.” Her words were clipped. “Care to elaborate?”

  A smile twitched at his lips. “Not really.”

  She glared at him. How dare he find this even slightly amusing?

  His smile grew. “I brought something back for you from the hunt.”

  Her expression turned to distaste. “Something you killed?”

  “Come and see.”

  Lucia reluctantly approached, guarded as to what it might be. Despite his proficiency in archery, Magnus had never developed a taste for ending an animal’s life simply for the sport of it. Other boys had mocked him behind his back for this, but he didn’t care. He’d once told her that he’d have no problem hunting if it was to put food on the table but to kill for the simple sport of it would never appeal to him. Lucia was dismayed to think that had changed. The whirlwind of emotions that had been building swirled inside her.

  Suddenly, the tall, heavy iron doors behind her father and brother slammed shut.

  The king looked over his shoulder with confusion. Then he cast a quizzical look at Lucia .

  She averted her gaze, her heart pounding.

  Up ahead, Magnus pulled something from a basket. It was small, furry, and had long, floppy ears.

  Its nose twitched.

  “It’s a rabbit,” Lucia said with surprise. “A baby.”

  “A pet. For you.” He handed the animal to her. It nestled into the crook of her neck. She felt its rapid heartbeat beneath her fingertips and her own heart swelled. She’d always wanted a pet, especially when she was just a child, but apart from horses and a few wolfhounds owned by the king, her mother had never allowed it.

  “You didn’t kill it.”

  Magnus looked at her curiously. “Of course not. A dead rabbit wouldn’t make a very good pet, would it?”

  Its fur was so soft. She stroked it, trying to ease the animal’s fear. She looked up at Magnus, her throat tightening. “So you think this excuses you for scaring off Michol—and who knows who else?”

  He gave her a wary look. “Does it help a little?”

  She hissed out a breath but couldn’t keep the smile from appearing on her lips. “Maybe a little.”

  Magnus was challenging, annoying, opinionated, and relied on his masks to hide his true feelings from the world far too much. But she still loved him and knew without a doubt that she would do anything for him, even when he tested her patience.

  And she would tell him her secret the next time she had the opportunity. Maybe then he’d tell her what had been troubling him lately. Even now as he gazed down at her holding his gift, there was a deep and bottomless sadness in his eyes.

  Cleo was absolutely certain her father would say yes. She waited until he was alone in his study and launched into a nonstop explanation about everything—although she didn’t touch on the topic of Emilia being romantically involved with Theon’s father.

  The king didn’t interrupt. He let Cleo speak for as long as she required.

  Finally, she summed things up as simply as she could.

  “No healer seems able to help her, and she’s only getting worse. I know I can find this woman—the one who’s an exiled Watcher. She holds the magic to save Emilia. But I have to leave soon, before it’s too late. Theon can go with me for protection. I don’t think we’ll be gone very long at all.” She wrung her hands. “I know this is the answer, Father. I know it. I can save Emilia’s life.”

  The king regarded his youngest daughter for an entire minute of silence with a bemused expression.

  “An exiled Watcher,” he said. “Who possesses magic healing seeds.”

  She nodded. “Someone in one of the villages must know where to find her. If I must search every village in Paelsia, then that’s exactly what I’ll have to do.”

  He templed his fingers and watched her through hooded eyes. “The Watchers are only a legend, Cleo.”

  For the first time since she’d entered the king’s meeting room, she felt a twinge of doubt about the outcome of their talk. “Well, that’s what I thought too, but if there’s a chance . . . I mean, you don’t know that for sure.”

  “That there are those who watch us through the eyes of hawks, searching for their precious Kindred is a story that helps keep children in line and fearful enough to behave themselves lest they be witnessed acting naughty.”

  Her gaze flicked to the royal coat of arms on the wall, which bore two hawks, one golden, one black, beneath a single golden crown. It was as familiar to her as her own name and she knew it had to mean something. It was a sign she was right. “Just because you haven’t seen something doesn’t mean it isn’t true. I’ve been wrong to take that stance until now.”

  He didn’t look angry, just weary. His face was etched in more lines than Cleo remembered. “Cleo, I know how much you love your sister—”

  “More than anything!”

  “Of course. I love her too. But she is not dying. She is simply ill. And this illness, while severe, will pass if she gets enough rest. She will recover.”

  Frustration twisted in her chest. “You don’t know that for sure. You have to let me go.”

  “I have to do no such thing.” The king’s expression only grew more tense. “It’s unwise for you to even consider visiting that place again for any reason. Troubles have increased, not decreased, in the time that has passed since the Agallon boy’s death.”

  “What kind of trouble?”

  He sighed. “The kind that you need not concern yourself with,
Cleo. I’ll deal with it.”

  She squeezed her hands into fists. “If there’s trouble growing, then I need to leave soon or I might not get the chance later.”

  “Cleo.” There was a warning growl to her father’s words now. He’d tolerated her up until now, but she knew he was tired and in no mood for anything he considered a waste of time.

  But saving her sister’s life wasn’t a waste of time.

  She crossed her arms over her chest and began pacing the grand room. “I mean, if I’m wrong, then I’m wrong. But I have to try. Why can’t you see that?”

  The king’s lips thinned. “All I see is my sixteen-year-old daughter making up far-fetched stories so she can escape from her new fiancé’s attentions.”

  She sent a look of horror at him. “You think that’s what this is about?”

  “I know it’ll take a while for you to get used to this. By the time the wedding is planned, all will seem better. By then, Emilia will be well again and she can help you prepare.”

  That wasn’t at all what this was all about. But since he’d brought it up...

  “You didn’t make Emilia marry someone she didn’t love.”

  He hissed out a long breath. “That was different.”

  “Why was that different? Because she threatened to kill herself? Maybe I’ll do the exact same thing!”

  The king just looked at her patiently, seemingly undisturbed by the threat. “You’d never do such that.”

  “I wouldn’t? I—I could do it tonight. I could throw myself down the stairs. I could stop eating. I could...well, there are many, many ways I could end my life if I wanted to!”

  He shook his head. “You wouldn’t, because you don’t really want to die. You don’t just live, Cleo. Life itself sings from your existence.” The smallest smile appeared on his lips. “I know one day when you’ve finally outgrown this tendency to be overly dramatic to gain attention, your true self will come forth. And that Cleo will be a remarkable woman—one who deserves to bear the name of a goddess.”

  She glowered at him. “You don’t even believe in the goddess!”

  His expression shuttered. He’d been patient with her up until now, but she’d gone too far.