Falling Kingdoms Read online

  He laughed and she gave him a sharp look. He sobered immediately. “Apologies, but of course you don’t like death. Who does? It’s messy and it’s unpleasant, but it happens. Often.”

  “Do you wish it hadn’t happened?”

  “What? The peasant’s son’s death?”

  “His name was Tomas Agallon,” she said quietly. “He had a name. He had a life and a family. He was happy and laughing when he came to the stall. He was going to go to his sister’s wedding—did you see the look on her face? She was destroyed. The argument never should have happened in the first place. If you liked the wine so much, you should have paid Silas Agallon a fair price for it.”

  Aron leaned his shoulder against the wall next to the door. “Oh, Cleo, don’t tell me you really care about such things.”

  She frowned. “Of course I do.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Please. A wine seller’s livelihood in Paelsia? Since when do you concern yourself with such unimportant matters? You’re a princess of Auranos. You can have absolutely anything you desire, whenever you desire it. All you need to do is ask and it’s yours.”

  Cleo wasn’t sure how this had anything to do with a wine seller’s asking price. “Is that really how you see me?”

  “I see you for exactly what you are. A beautiful princess. And I am sorry I can’t be as brokenhearted over all of this as you want me to be. I killed him. It happened. I did what I had to do at the time, and I don’t regret it.” A hard edge went through his gaze. “I acted on instinct alone. I’ve hunted many times before, but this was different. To take the life of another...I’ve never felt so powerful in my entire life.”

  A shiver of revulsion went through her. “How can you sound so calm about this?”

  He fixed her with a steady look. “Would you rather I lie and say I have nightmares too? Would that ease your own guilt?”

  She deflated. That had been exactly what she’d wanted. “I want the truth.”

  “And that’s what I’ve given you. You should be grateful, Cleo. There aren’t too many people who speak the truth around here, even when they’re asked for it.”

  Aron was handsome. He was from a noble family. He had a wry wit and a keen mind. And she’d never disliked anyone as much as she did him.

  She couldn’t marry him. There was simply no way.

  A steely resolve flowed through her. Before visiting Paelsia, she’d been willing to yield—to a point—and allow her father to make an important decision like this for her. After all, he was the king.

  “Have you heard of my father’s plans?” she asked him.

  Aron cocked his head, his gaze steady on her face. “Changing subjects so soon?”

  “Perhaps.”

  “I am sorry you’re upset about what happened in Paelsia.”

  He said it without any emotion, not even a flicker. He might be vaguely sorry that she was upset, but he wasn’t filled with remorse that it happened, nor was he haunted by the echoes of the grieving brother’s death threat.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  “Now—have I heard of your father’s plans?” He crossed his arms over his chest and walked a slow circle around her. She suddenly felt like a fawn being observed by a hungry wolf. “Your father is the king. He has many plans.”

  “The plan involving the two of us,” she said simply, turning as he turned so they could maintain eye contact.

  “Our engagement.”

  She stiffened. “That’s the one.”

  “When do you think he’ll announce it?”

  A cold trickle of perspiration slid down her spine. “I don’t know.”

  He nodded. “This came as a shock to you.”

  She let out another shaky sigh. “I’m only sixteen.”

  “It’s young for an announcement like this, I agree.”

  “My father likes you.”

  “The feeling is entirely mutual.” He cocked his head to the other side. “I like you too, Cleo, in case you’ve forgotten. Don’t doubt that, if that’s what this is all about.”

  “It’s not.”

  “This shouldn’t have been a huge surprise for you. There’s been talk for some time that we’d eventually be matched.”

  “So you’re fine with this?”

  He shrugged a shoulder, his gaze sweeping the length of her in a predatory manner. “Yes, I’m fine with it.”

  Say it, Cleo. Don’t let this go on a moment longer.

  She cleared her throat. “I don’t know if it’s such a good idea.”

  He stopped circling. “Excuse me?”

  “This—this match. It doesn’t feel right. Not right now, anyway. I mean, we’re friends. Of course we are. But we’re not...” Her mouth was dry. For a fleeting moment, she wished for some wine—any wine—to help the world seem golden and wonderful again.

  “In love?” Aron finished for her.

  She blinked and nodded, casting her eyes to the ornately tiled marble floor. “I don’t know what to say.”

  She waited for Aron to say something, to take the pressure off and ease her anxiety, but he stayed quiet. Finally she braved a glance at him.

  He studied her, his brow furrowed. “You want to ask your father not to make the announcement, don’t you?”

  She swallowed hard. “If we’re both in agreement, then it’ll be simpler to convince him that this isn’t the right time.”

  “This has to do with what happened in Paelsia, doesn’t it?”

  She flicked her gaze to his. “I don’t know.”

  “Of course you do. You’re upset about what happened to someone of no consequence to your life. Do you cry over felled deer as well? Do you sob into your plate every night when you’re served dinner from a hunt?”

  Her cheeks flushed. “It’s hardly the same thing, Aron.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Killing a deer, killing that boy—felt as if it had about as much significance to me, one to the other. I think you simply lack the right perspective. You’re too young.”

  She bristled. “You’re only a year older than me.”

  “It’s enough for me to be able to see the world a bit more clearly.” He closed the distance between them and grasped her chin. His skin smelled of smoke. “I won’t agree to tell the king I don’t want this. Because I do want this.”

  “You want to marry me?”

  “Of course I do.”

  “Are you in love with me?”

  Aron’s lips curved. “Oh, Cleo. You’re lucky you’re beautiful. It absolves you of many shortcomings.”

  She glared at him and pushed back, but he just dug his fingers in harder—almost, but not quite, hard enough to hurt. His intentions were clear—he didn’t want her to move.

  “I remember that night, Cleo. It’s crystal clear in my mind.”

  She gasped. “Don’t speak of it.”

  “We’re alone. Nobody’s here to listen in.” His gaze fell on her lips. “You wanted that to happen between us. Don’t try to deny it.”

  Her cheeks flamed. “I’d had too much wine. I wasn’t thinking straight. I regret it.”

  “So you say. But it happened. You and me, Cleo. We were meant to be together. That was only a taste.” He raised an eyebrow. “Had your father picked anyone but me as your betrothed, I might have had to say something. I know you wouldn’t have liked that. You don’t want the king to know that his perfect princess had tarnished herself in the bed of someone who was not to become her husband.”

  She barely remembered that night six months ago, only that there was wine—too much of it. And lips that tasted like smoke. A fumbling of hands, of clothes, of lies whispered in the darkness.

  A proper girl—a princess—was meant to remain pure and untouched until her wedding night—her virginity a gift to
her husband. That Cleo had made such a mistake with someone like Aron, whom she could barely tolerate while sober, shamed her like nothing else. No one could ever know about this.

  She pushed his hand away, her cheeks flaming. “I must go.”

  “Not yet.” Aron closed the distance between them and pulled her tight against his chest, digging his hand into her long hair to pull it from its loose twist so it hung freely to her waist. “I’ve missed you, Cleo. And I am glad you came to see me in private this morning. I think about you often.”

  “Let me leave,” she whispered. “And say nothing about this.”

  He caressed the side of her throat, his gaze darkening. “Once we’re engaged, I’ll ensure moments of privacy like this will be much more frequent. I look forward to that.”

  Cleo tried to push against his chest, but he was strong. Stronger than he looked. She’d only succeeded in reminding him of the night she’d shamed herself and her family. He seemed to relish this secret they shared while she would rather purge it from her mind forever.

  And, goddess, his breath smelled like he’d been drinking and smoking since sunrise.

  There was a sharp knock on the partially open door. Aron’s fingers dug into her sides, and he cast a dark look over his shoulder as the door creaked open.

  “There you are, princess,” Theon said casually.

  Aron let her go so abruptly that she had to struggle to keep her balance and not go sprawling to the floor.

  Theon looked from her to Aron and his eyes narrowed. “Is everything well here?”

  “Well. It’s well,” she replied, throat full. “Very well. Thank you.”

  His fierce expression showed that he didn’t find any humor in the thought that she’d snuck off behind his back. In fact, his gaze was hot enough to burn.

  Still, she was more than happy to leave with her angry bodyguard than stay here a moment longer with Aron.

  “I want to go back to the palace,” she said firmly.

  “Whenever you’re ready.”

  “I’m ready now.” She straightened her shoulders and glanced at Aron.

  He looked bored. On the surface, anyway. Deep in his eyes was an unpleasant flicker—an unspoken promise that the drunken night she wanted to forget would only be the first of many between them. She shuddered.

  She had to convince her father to end this nonsense. The king hadn’t made Emilia marry her fiancé. This shouldn’t be any different.

  If Aron ever told her secret after that, she would … simply deny it. She could do that. She was the princess. Her father would believe her over Aron, even if she spoke lies out of necessity. That night would not ruin her. It could not. She refused to allow Aron to have that kind of power over her a day longer than he already had.

  “See you soon, Cleo,” Aron said, stepping outside when they did. He lit another cigarillo as he watched them leave.

  Cleo didn’t speak, intent on walking away from the villa as quickly as she could.

  The heat of Theon’s glare seared into the back of her neck. Finally, when they were nearly back at the castle, she spun around to face him.

  “Need to say something?” she demanded, trying her best to hide that she was on the verge of tears. Nausea churned in the pit of her stomach.

  If Theon hadn’t intervened...

  She was glad that he had, but she was still upset. And taking out her frustrations and anger on the nearest person to her was the only way she knew to cope.

  Theon’s fierce expression was not one of respect for a member of royalty, but the annoyance of someone forced to deal with a headstrong child. “You need to stop trying to run away from me.”

  “I didn’t run away. I needed to see Aron alone.”

  “Yes, I saw that.” He glanced over his shoulder in the direction of the golden villa down the road lined with green trees and well-tended flower beds. “Apologies for interrupting your romantic rendezvous. Looked like the two of you—”

  “Were doing nothing at all,” she cut him off, her voice catching on the words. While she didn’t feel she should be overly concerned about her new bodyguard’s opinion, she’d prefer he didn’t guess that her chastity was but a memory. Theon would never look at her the same way again if he knew the truth. “That was not what you thought it was.”

  “Really.”

  “Yes, really. It was a conversation.”

  “Looked like an interesting conversation.”

  She furiously wiped at her eyes with the long sleeves of her dress. “It was not.”

  In a split second, Theon’s expression shifted from anger to concern. “Are you certain that everything’s all right?”

  “What do you care? All I am to you is an assignment handed down from the king.”

  A muscle in his cheek twitched, as if she’d slapped him. “Excuse me for asking.” Clarity dawned on his face a moment later. “Wait. You went there to confront Lord Aron about what happened in Paelsia. You feel bad about it.”

  Her chest ached. His words could apply to many things she felt bad about. “Let us go back to the castle.”

  “Princess, you were blameless. You need to know that.”

  Blameless? She wished he was right. She’d stood by and watched helplessly as the boy was killed. And months earlier, she’d allowed Aron to have his way with her, blaming the wine even as it was happening, not her own decisions. He hadn’t forced himself on her. At the time, in her intoxicated haze, she had welcomed the amorous attentions of a handsome lord sought after by many of her friends.

  She shook her head, her throat tight. It hurt too much to swallow. “The death of that boy haunts me.”

  He grasped her shoulders and drew her closer to him. “It’s done. It’s over. Put it out of your mind. If you’re afraid of the boy’s brother coming after you to get revenge, I will protect you. I swear I will. You don’t have to worry. That’s one of the reasons I’m guarding you.” His expression darkened again. “That is, if you’d stop running away from me.”

  “I’m not running away from you. Well, not specifically,” she said, suddenly finding words difficult to come by again. His proximity made it difficult to think clearly. “I—I’m running away from...” She sighed. “Oh, I don’t know anymore. I’m just trying to make sense of everything and finding that nothing at all makes sense.”

  “I heard your father talking to someone.” Theon absently scrubbed his hand through his short, bronze-colored hair. “About your upcoming engagement to Lord Aron.”

  She had a difficult time finding enough air to breathe. “And how did he sound?”

  “Pleased.”

  “That makes one of us,” she grumbled darkly under her breath, her eyes on a horse-drawn cart that rolled down the road next to where they stood.

  “You’re not happy about the engagement?” His tone had regained its hard edge.

  “Not happy about being forced into doing something that I have absolutely no say about? No, I can’t say that I am.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Are you?”

  Theon shrugged. “I don’t think anyone should have to do what they don’t want to do.”

  “Like being assigned a job you weren’t interested in?”

  His lips thinned. “It’s different.”

  Cleo considered this. “You and me—it’s kind of like a strange marriage. You’re forced to be near me. I can’t escape you. And we’re going to be together a lot now and in the future.”

  Theon raised an eyebrow. “So you’re finally accepting this arrangement?”

  She chewed her bottom lip as she thought through her questionable decisions today. “I know I shouldn’t have left the palace without telling you. I apologize if I caused you any trouble.”

  “Your sister was more than happy to let me know w
here you’d run off to.”

  Cleo gasped. “That traitor.”

  He laughed. “Wouldn’t have mattered if she didn’t. Even though this is an arrangement neither one of us might have chosen, it’s something I take very seriously. You’re not just any girl; you’re the princess. It’s my sole duty now to protect you. So wherever you run off to, you can be certain of one very important thing.”

  She waited, her breath catching at the intense way the handsome young guard watched her. “And what’s that?”

  When he smiled, the look was equally menacing and enticing. “I will find you.”

  “I’m told Father’s up to something downstairs.”

  Magnus’s voice cut through Lucia’s concentration, startling her. She quickly blew out the candle in front of her, closed her book, and turned to face him with what she knew was a guilty expression.

  “Excuse me?” she said as calmly as she could.

  Her brother cast an amused glance at her across the shadows of her chambers, with the sleeping area on one side, a curtained bed with stiff linen sheets and a fur-lined blanket, and the seating area on the other. “Am I interrupting something?”

  She placed her hand casually on her hip. “No, of course not.”

  He drew closer to her lounge next to the window, which looked down to the expansive palace gardens. They were currently covered in frost as they were for all but a precious couple of warmer months. “What are you reading?”

  “Nothing of any importance.”

  “Mmm.” He raised a brow and held his hand out to her patiently.

  Sometimes Lucia didn’t like how well her older brother knew her.

  Finally, accepting defeat, she placed the small leather-bound book in his hand. He glanced at the cover, then quickly flipped through it. “Poetry about the goddess Cleiona?”

  She shrugged. “Comparative studies, that’s all.”

  “Naughty girl.”

  She ignored the flush that immediately heated her cheeks. She wasn’t being naughty; she was being inquisitive. There was a difference. Even so, she knew many, including her mother, would be displeased about her current reading material. Luckily, Magnus wasn’t one of them.