Falling Kingdoms (9 page)

“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 where 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.

Cleiona was the rival goddess to Valoria. One was thought of as good; one was believed to be evil. But this difference depended entirely upon in which kingdom one stood. In Limeros, Cleiona was considered the evil one and Valoria pure and good, representing strength, faith, and wisdom. They were the three attributes that Limerians put before all else. Every coat of arms stitched to adorn the walls of the great hall or anywhere else, every parchment that her father signed, every portrait of the king himself held these three words.

Strength. Faith. Wisdom.

Limeros devoted two full days a week to prayer and silence. Anyone in the many villages and cities right up to the forbidden mountains who broke this law was fined. If they couldn’t pay the fine, they were reprimanded in a harsher manner. King Gaius had the common areas patrolled to make sure everyone stayed the course, paid their taxes, and strictly followed the command of their king.

Most didn’t protest or cause a problem. And Valoria, Lucia was sure, would approve of her father’s stern measures—as harsh as they sometimes seemed.

Limeros was a land of cliffs, vast moors, and rocky ground; a frozen place for most of the year, covered in a sparkling layer of ice and snow before it gave way to greenery and blossoms for that precious glimpse of summer. So beautiful—sometimes the beauty of this kingdom brought tears to Lucia’s eyes. The window in her chambers looked out past the gardens to the seemingly endless Silver Sea, leading to faraway lands, and the sheer drop from the black granite castle walls to the dark waters crashing upon the rocky shore below.

Breathtaking, even when the winter had closed in and it was near impossible to go outside without being fully wrapped in furs and leathers to keep out the biting cold.

Lucia didn’t mind. She loved this kingdom, even with the expectations and difficulties that inevitably came from being a Damora. And she loved her books and her classes, absorbing knowledge like a sponge. She read everything she could get her hands on. Happily, the castle library was second to none. Information was a valuable gift to her—more precious than any gold or jewels, such as those given to her by some of her more ardent suitors.

That is, if those suitors could get past her overprotective brother to give her those gifts. Magnus didn’t think that any boy who had shown interest in Lucia thus far was worthy of the princess’s attentions. Magnus had always been equal parts frustrating and wonderful to her. Lately, however, she wasn’t so sure how to gauge his ever-shifting moods.

Lucia looked up into his familiar face as he cast her book to the side carelessly. The thirst for knowledge didn’t spread evenly between the siblings. Magnus’s time was taken up by his own classes, mostly horsemanship, swordsmanship, and archery—which he claimed to despise. All of which the king insisted upon, whether Magnus displayed a keen interest or not.

“Cleiona’s also the name of the youngest Auranian princess,” Magnus mused. “Never really thought about it before. Same age as you are, right? Nearly to the day?”

Lucia nodded, picking the book up off the lounge where it had fallen and tucking it under a pile of her less controversial books. “I’d like to meet her.”

“Unlikely. Father hates Auranos and wishes for its ultimate demise. Ever since...well, you know.”

Oh, she did. Her father despised King Corvin Bellos and wasn’t afraid of expressing his opinion over meals in a fearsome burst of anger whenever the mood struck. Lucia believed the animosity had much to do with a banquet at the Auranos palace more than ten years ago. The two kings had come nearly to blows due to a mysterious injury Magnus had received during the visit. King Gaius hadn’t returned since. Nor had he been invited.

The reminder of this trip made Magnus absently touch his scar—one that stretched from the top of his right ear to the corner of his mouth.

“After all this time, you still don’t remember how you got that?” She’d always been very curious about it.

His fingers stilled as if he too had been caught doing something he shouldn’t be doing. “Ten years is a long time. I was only a boy.”

“Father demanded whoever cut you should pay with his life.”

“He wanted the culprit’s head delivered on a silver platter, actually. Seeing a crying, bleeding child troubled our father. Even when that child was me.” His dark brows drew together. “Honestly, I don’t remember anything. I only recall wandering off, then feeling the hot trickle of blood on my face and the sting of the wound. I didn’t get upset until Mother got upset. Perhaps I stumbled down a set of stairs or whacked myself on the edge of a sharp door. You know how clumsy I am.”

“Hardly.” Her brother moved with the grace of a panther—sleek, quiet. Many might think him deadly, given he was the son of the iron-fisted King Gaius. “I’m the clumsy one in this family.”

“I beg to disagree with that.” His lips curved to the side. “One of grace and beauty, my sister, with a multitude of suitors at her beck and call. Forced to be siblings with a scarred monster like me.”

“As if that scar makes you a monster.” The thought was laughable. “You can’t be blind to how girls look at you—I even see maids here in the castle wistfully watch you pass, even if you never notice them. They all think you’re devastatingly handsome. And your scar only makes you more...” She took a moment to think of the right word. “Intriguing.”

“You really think so?” His chocolate-brown eyes glinted with amusement.

“I do.” She brushed his dark hair, long overdue for a trim, off his cheek to inspect the faded scar closer. She slid her index finger over it. “Besides, it’s barely noticeable anymore. At least, I don’t see it.”

“If you say so.” His voice sounded strangled now and his expression had shifted to one of distress. He roughly pushed her hand away.

She frowned. “Is something wrong?”

Magnus stepped back a few feet from her. “Nothing. I—I came up here to...” He ran a hand through his hair. “Never mind. You probably wouldn’t be interested. There’s some impromptu political meeting downstairs Father has called. I’ll leave you to your studies.”

Lucia watched with surprise as he swiftly left her room without another word.

Something was troubling her brother. She’d noticed it lately, each day worse than the last. He seemed distracted and deeply distressed by something, and she wished she knew what it was. She hated to see him so upset and not know how to help ease his pain.

And she also wished very much that she could share her own secret, the one she’d been hiding for nearly a month—the one no one knew. No one at all.

Pushing aside her fear and uncertainty, she prayed to the goddess for enough strength, faith, and wisdom to weather the dark storm she feared was drawing closer.

• • •

Magnus followed the noise downstairs toward the castle’s great hall. He pushed past several recognizable faces—boys of his age who considered him their friend. He offered them stiff smiles and received the same in return.

They weren’t his true friends—not one of them. They were the sons of his father’s royal council, who were basically required to be acquainted with the Limerian prince whether they liked it or not. And a few, as Magnus had overheard in passing, didn’t like him at all.

Irrelevant
.

He assumed every one of these boys—and their sisters, who would be more than eager if Magnus chose one of them as his future bride—was ready to use him whenever the occasion called for it. He was happy to do the same when it served his purposes.

He trusted not a single one of them. Only Lucia. She was different. She was the only one with whom he could ever be truly himself without putting on any act. She was his closest confidant and ally. They’d shared so many secrets over the years, trusting each other to keep their silence.

And he’d just escaped from her chambers as if they’d been set on fire.

The secret of his growing desire for Lucia would have to be kept silent from everyone. Especially her. Forever. He would keep it buried deep in his chest until the fiery pain left only ash where his heart once was. He was already half there to begin with. Maybe when his heart had finally been burned away, everything would be easier.

It had been more than a month since the banquet, and he hadn’t learned anything of interest that would elucidate the enigmatic conversation he’d heard between his father and Sabina. He’d asked Amia to pay special attention as she eavesdropped throughout the castle. If she ever heard Lucia’s name, she was to report immediately back to him. The young maid had eagerly agreed to this much as she eagerly agreed to anything Magnus had ever required of her.

In the hall, his father’s voice was raised as he addressed the crowd of three hundred men. Those in attendance appeared to hang on his every word, their gazes fixed solely upon the king. Behind the king on the wall was one of the few pieces of artwork that the hall still held on its cold, flat walls—a large tapestry of the king himself perched upon his favorite black stallion, sword in hand, looking strong and stern and royal.

Magnus cast up his eyes. His father loved being the center of attention.

“A murder.” The king’s voice boomed through the hall. “Right in the middle of the Paelsian market a month and a half ago. It was a cool but beautiful day when Paelsians were out enjoying the sunshine, marketing their wares, trying to make a decent living for themselves and their families. But this was disrupted by a few wicked Auranian royals in their midst.”

Murmuring surrounded Magnus. News had already reached some about the murder of the wine seller’s son, but for others this was the first time they’d heard of it. Magnus was surprised that anyone actually cared.

He was surprised that his
father
seemed to care. When it had been mentioned to Magnus at Lucia’s birthday banquet, he hadn’t thought much of it. Later, when his father learned of it, the king had simply shrugged a shoulder.

Seemed as if he’d changed his mind. Perhaps it was due to the influence of the young, dark-haired man who stood next to the king. The one who had recently returned from a trip across the sea.

Magnus’s cheek began to twitch.

His name was Tobias Argynos. He’d been brought to the castle to become the king’s valet a year ago and soon thereafter was taken fully into his confidence. If the king needed something, Tobias would get it. The king considered him an asset and treated him as a favorite son.

If whispered rumors held any weight, then Tobias
was
a favorite son—the king’s bastard born twenty years ago to a beautiful courtesan in Auranos.

Magnus had never taken to believing in idle gossip. But he would never completely ignore it, either. Whispered stories could turn to shouted truths as quick as day became night. Even so, it wouldn’t jeopardize Magnus’s position in the kingdom. He was the rightful heir today, tomorrow, and always. Still, the way the king had warmed to Tobias when he’d only been cold to Magnus all his life troubled him more than he’d ever admit out loud. The rightful prince received a scar on his face while the bastard stood next to the king as he gave speeches to a rapt audience.

Then again, fairness or kindness had never been King Gaius’s goals. Strength, faith, and wisdom above all.

“Paelsians have suffered,” the king continued. “I’ve watched this and my heart has bled for our poor neighbors. Auranians, on the other hand, flaunt their riches for all to see. They are shamefully vain. They have even begun to deny religion and prayer and instead raise up their own images as idols as evidence of their hedonism and excess. It was a selfish young lord—Lord Aron Lagaris—who killed the impoverished wine seller’s son. The murdered boy was a fine and handsome young lad, one who could have grown up to help lead his people out of the squalor they have faced for generations. But he was cut down as a spoiled lord tried to show off in front of a princess—Princess Cleiona. Yes, named for the evil goddess herself, she who murdered our own beloved of beloveds, Valoria, goddess of earth and water. The two watched Tomas Agallon’s young life bleed from him in front of his own family. They didn’t feel sorry for the pain they caused that family and all Paelsians.”