Falling Kingdoms (Falling Kingdoms, #1)(104)

Cleo clutched Aron’s arm, waiting for him to do something, to say something. To show that underneath the drunken, selfish exterior that he was a true hero she could forgive for anything horrible he’d done in the past.

“The prince is right,” Aron replied, his expression grim. “If we want to live through this, we need to do as he says. We need to surrender.”

She gave him a cold and enraged glare. “You are so incredibly pathetic, you make me want to vomit.”

“Uh-oh, don’t tell me there’s trouble between you and the boy you love, even before your wedding day.” Magnus’s dry words twisted with amusement. “Don’t make me give up on my romantic ideals of true love.”

Cleo turned to face this monster. “No, actually you killed the boy I loved right in front of me.”

He looked at her with confusion before clarity slid through his dark eyes. Then his brows drew together. “I told him to stand down.”

“He was protecting me.” Her bottom lip trembled. “And you killed him.”

That small frown that contradicted his usual icy expression grew a fraction deeper.

“Wait,” Aron said. “Who are we talking about?”

She ignored him and forced herself to keep her expression neutral. “Prince Magnus...”

“Yes, Princess Cleiona?”

“I want you to give your father a message from me.”

“You can certainly deliver it yourself, but all right. What is it?”

“Tell him that his son has failed again.”

Cleo turned and began running away as fast as she could. She knew the halls of this castle better than anyone. The prince’s roar of anger echoed against the stone walls as he lost sight of her.

Another time, another place, she might have smiled at this small victory. And while she felt a twinge of regret at leaving Aron behind, it was only a twinge. If he wanted to surrender to the Limerians so easily, he still had every chance to do so—without her at his side.

Angry shouts and the clash of metal on metal came from up ahead and she froze, pressing up against the wall. Can’t go that way. She’d have to find another path. She couldn’t give up on finding her father.

As she turned the next corner, someone grabbed her by her hair, wrenching her so hard that it felt as if it would be pulled out by its roots. She screamed and tried to kick and claw at whoever it was. A Limerian soldier eyed her curiously.

“What do we have here?” he asked. Her gaze shot to his sword, which dripped blood to the marble floor. “Pretty little thing, aren’t you?”

“Let go of me,” she snarled. “Or you’re dead.”

He laughed. “You have spirit. I like that. Won’t last long, but I like it.”

Then, astonishingly, he let go of her and staggered forward. Out of the corner of her eye, Cleo watched his companion fall to the ground, collapsing at the same time as her attacker. Both bled out onto the floor.

King Corvin stood there, his face a mask of fury, his sword covered in blood to its hilt.

“Father!” she gasped.

“It’s not safe here.” He grabbed her arm and half-dragged her down the hall.

“I was looking for you. Those men...”

“I know. This shouldn’t have happened.” He swore under his breath. “I don’t know how they got through the doors.”

“I was told they were enforced by a witch’s spell. Is that true?”

He eyed her. Her heart lurched to see that he’d been hurt. There was a vicious cut on his temple and blood dripped steadily down his cheek. “They were.”

All her life, Cleo had never realized her father believed in witches or magic. He’d turned his back on the goddess after her mother had died, so she’d never asked. She wished she’d known the truth. He pulled her into a small room at the end of the hallway. He closed the door and pressed his back against it. A small window let in just enough light to see.

“Thank the goddess I found you,” she said, finally allowing herself a measure of relief. “We need to get to Nic and Mira. We need to keep hidden until we can find a chance to escape.”

“I can’t leave, Cleo.” He shook his head. “And we can’t leave Emilia here by herself.”

And just like that, the tears that hadn’t spilled since she’d left her sister’s room began to flow like an endless river. “She’s gone. Emilia’s gone. I found her earlier in her chambers.” She struggled to find her breath as she sobbed. Her chest hitched. “She—she’s dead.”

Grief flashed across the king’s expression as well as something darker and more bleak. “I was wrong, Cleo. I’m sorry. I should have sent my men to find this exiled Watcher you told me about in Paelsia. I should have believed what you claimed was possible. I could have helped save her life.”

She had no response to that. She wished he’d done so too. So much. “It’s too late now.”

He reached out and clutched her arm so tightly that she yelped in pain. It was as effective as a slap to bring her to her senses and stop her tears.

“You need to be strong, Cleo.” His voice caught. “You are now the heir to my throne.”

Her stomach lurched. She hadn’t even thought of that. “I’m trying, Father!”