Crystal Storm (Falling Kingdoms #5)(57)

CHAPTER 16


    MAGNUS


   PAELSIA



Magnus pondered the twelve people taking up residence at the Hawk and Spear Inn, realizing that nearly half of them wanted him dead.

“And you’re definitely one of them,” he muttered as Nic trudged through the meeting hall, glaring as he passed the prince. Magnus was sitting alone at a table in front of a sketchbook he’d found in a drawer in his room. “Cassian, look,” he called. “I drew a picture of you.”

Magnus raised the sketchbook. His fingers smeared with charcoal, he held up a page on which he’d drawn an image of a skinny boy hanging from a noose, his tongue dangling from his mouth, two morbid Xs where the eyes should have been.

Nic, allegedly a very friendly fellow to everyone else in the world, shot Magnus a look of sheer hatred. “You think that’s funny?”

“What? You don’t like it? Well, they do say art is subjective.”

“You think spending your time doodling away in that book is going to make anyone see you as less of a threat? Try again. This innocent, nice-guy act you’re putting on is wasted on me.”

Magnus rolled his eyes. “Noted,” he said, tucking the sketchbook under his arm. “But I can’t say I’m not hurt. I thought we’d become good friends back in Limeros.”

Nic narrowed his eyes, clearly not amused. “The only thing that helps me sleep at night is knowing that Cleo sees you for what you really are.”

“I certainly hope you’re right,” Magnus said dismissively. He’d never let Nic get to him before, and he wasn’t about to do so now, but the subject of Cleo was a thorn in his side. “It’s so interesting to me, the lot of you choosing to stay here in the lion’s den.”

“Perhaps you’re wrong about who’s the lion and who’s the prey.”

Magnus made a mock-snoring sound. “Conversing with you, Nic, is always so stimulating. Truly. But I’m sure you have other places to be, and I’d hate to waste the precious time of a brilliant wit such as yours. I’m sure I’ve already kept you from your next appointment, which is . . . what? Perhaps lurking about in Ashur’s shadow, waiting for a moment of his glorious attention now that he’s successfully returned from the dead?” Having personally witnessed Ashur’s death, Magnus was still trying to process the overwhelming information that he was still alive. “So sad, truly, that no one sees what’s really going on between the resurrected prince and the former stable boy.”

And that was all it took for Nic’s cheeks to burn with an immediate flush. “And what is that, Magnus? What do you think is really going on?”

Magnus paused, meeting Nic’s suddenly uncertain gaze. “The taste of romantic disappointment is rather bitter, isn’t it?”

“I suppose you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?” Nic snarled. “Never forget that she hates you. You killed everyone she loves. You stole her entire world. That’s a truth that will never change.”

With a last glare, Nic left the room, leaving Magnus glowering and heaving with a great desire to punch something. Or someone.

He’s wrong, he assured himself. The past is no measure of the present.

And it was the present he needed to focus on. They needed to find Lucia, now, without further delay.

Why should we wait another day for Grandmother to find this elusive magic stone? he thought. Here they were, cowering like victims, when they should be doing anything they could to cast that Kraeshian from their shores forever.

Magnus shoved the sketchbook toward the center of the table and rose to his feet. He was going to find his grandmother and demand that—with or without her magic fully restored—she try a spell to find his sister.

“All alone in this great big hall?”

He went still at the sound of Cleo’s voice. She stood at the base of the stairs, peering into the expansive room at him.

“Seems that way,” he said. “More reason for you not to enter.”

She entered anyway. “I feel like we haven’t spoken privately in ages.”

“It’s been two days, princess.”

“Princess,” she said, biting her bottom lip. “My, you certainly are keeping this act up quite well. In fact, I can’t be sure it is only an act anymore.”

“I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.” He moved his gaze over her, taking her in the way a starving man would a feast. “Is that a new dress?”

She stroked the silky skirts, the color of a ripe summer peach. “Olivia and I went to a market by the docks today.”

“You and Olivia did what?” He narrowed his eyes at her, alarmed by his ignorance of the princess’s choice to thoughtlessly put herself into danger. “That was a terrible idea. Anyone could have recognized you.”

“Much as I enjoy being scolded, I suppose I should assure you that no one recognized me since I wore my cloak. And we weren’t alone. Enzo and Milo were with us, for protection. Ashur too. He’s been exploring the city to learn what Paelsians feel about the news of his sister’s arrival.”

“And what do they say?”

“Ashur said that most seem . . . open to change.”