Falling Kingdoms (Falling Kingdoms, #1)(110)

“You don’t think anyone will oppose you?”

“Perhaps a few. I’ll be forced to make examples of them.”

His father’s calm demeanor about all of this was infuriating.

“Just a few? We’ve swept in here and killed their king, the eldest princess, and taken over their land—as well as murdering the Paelsian leader. You think they’ll all simply accept that?”

“We were not responsible for Princess Emilia’s death. So tragic that she was ill. I’d never kill an innocent girl. After all, her ongoing presence in the palace would have helped ease my way into the hearts of Auranos’s citizens.”

“And Princess Cleiona? What about her? She’s queen now.”

The king’s expression tightened. It was the first sign of strain Magnus had seen. “She’d be smart to come to me and beg for my protection.”

“Would you give it to her? Or slit her throat too?”

The king smiled—a cold smile—and put his arm around his son’s stiff shoulders. “Honestly, Magnus. Slit the throat of a sixteen-year-old girl? What kind of monster do you take me for?”

Something caught Magnus’s attention. Lucia’s eyelids fluttered. His breath caught. But after he’d waited a few moments, nothing more happened. The king tightened his grip on Magnus’s shoulder as if he guessed that he was now in great distress.

“It’s all right, son. She’ll recover in time. This is only temporary.”

“How do you know that?” His voice was strangled.

“Because the magic is still within her, and I’m not through with it yet. I need it to find the Kindred.” The king nodded with confidence, his expression very serious now. “Leave us, Magnus. I’ll sit with her.”

“But Father—”

“I said to go now.” There was no mistaking his firm tone. This was a non-negotiable request.

Magnus moved from the side of the bed and sent his father a dark look. “I’ll return.”

“I have no doubt that you will.”

He left the room and pressed his back up against the wall in the hallway outside. It was as if he’d been stabbed through his heart. If Lucia never awoke, then she was lost to him forever. Grief for the only person in the world he’d ever loved and who’d loved him in return buckled his knees.

He felt at his face, wondering what the hot dampness was. For a moment he thought he was bleeding.

Swearing under his breath, he pushed the tears away, vowing that they would be the last he ever shed. Strength, not weakness, was what he needed from this day forward.





King Gaius stood on the castle balcony, looking down upon those gathered to hear him speak about his victory here in Auranos, a crowd of more than a thousand.

They were terrified of both him and his army that surrounded them, watching for any signs of trouble. Cleo drew the loose hood of her cloak closer to her face as she listened to this hateful man speak his lies and false promises with a smile on his face.

She was exhausted. All day and all night she’d stuck to the shadows of the walled palace city, now overrun by Limerian security. But no one paid much attention to a mere slip of a girl.

Whenever she began to lose faith, she touched the ring her father had given her for strength—her mother’s ring. The sorceress Eva’s ring.

Cleo’s kingdom had been torn from her. Her family was dead. She was alone. But she wasn’t ready to run yet. Nic and Mira hadn’t made it out of the castle in time. King Gaius had obviously extended his “generous” hospitality to them. They also stood on the balcony with him as Auranian representatives, looking pale and distraught but as brave as possible given the situation.

To see proof that they lived gave her a glimmer of hope that she could free them. She needed her friends at her side if she was going to come up with a plan to right what had gone so horribly wrong. It was her father’s last request.

Cleo refused to think she would fail.

Suddenly, she felt someone’s gaze hot on the side of her face. When she glanced to her left, her breath caught. Jonas Agallon, also cloaked, stood not a dozen feet from her. She feared he was about to raise an alarm when he touched his index finger to his lips.

The boy who had kidnapped her, imprisoned her, and let Prince Magnus know of her location so he could attempt to drag her to Limeros as a prisoner of war was telling her to keep quiet. To stay calm.

Cleo froze in place as he slid through the crowd, moving closer until he stood directly behind her.

“I mean you no harm,” he whispered.

She slowly turned to face him.

“I wish I could say the same.” She pressed the sharp tip of her dagger against his abdomen.

Instead of looking alarmed, he had the nerve to give her a small grin. “Nicely done.”

“You won’t be saying that when you’re bleeding to death.”

“No, I don’t suppose I will. You shouldn’t be here, your highness. You need to leave immediately.”

She glared at him and pressed her dagger closer to flesh to prove she wasn’t fooling around. “Says who? A Paelsian savage who pledges allegiance to the man who’s stolen my kingdom and destroyed my family?”

His jaw was tense. “No. A rebel who wants to bring an end to the King of Blood.” Ignoring the danger the dagger presented, he leaned forward to brush his lips against her ear. “One day very soon, be ready.”