Falling Kingdoms (Falling Kingdoms, #1)(52)

He wanted her.

But he couldn’t give in to these feelings. Even admitting them to himself was dangerous. For now, all Theon knew for sure was that he would find her and bring her back safely to Auranos. The future was uncertain, but this much was crystal clear. He would not fail.





The king had summoned Magnus to his throne room.

Goddess forbid that his father actually visited his son’s chambers. No, instead he had to be summoned quite officially like a servant.

Irrelevant.

He took his time to arrive. He would obey, of course. He had no other choice, but even with the king’s seemingly newfound appreciation for his son’s existence, Magnus wouldn’t rush to do so.

He had spent two days with Lucia coaching her on a variety of exercises to help hone her control and skill. A lot of it seemed to depend on his sister’s fluctuating emotions. When they argued—especially about the subject of her suitors that Magnus tried to discourage—her rising temper helped bring forth her magic. When her confidence wavered, it faded.

Therefore, he’d made sure that they argued frequently. It didn’t take very much at all to bring a flush to her cheeks.

It would still take her a while to open herself up to her magic completely. Even if she wouldn’t readily admit this, she feared it. That which one fears, one typically won’t embrace with open arms.

Magnus felt similarly toward his father.

“You summoned me?” he said drily when he was finally in front of the king in his throne room.

King Gaius raised his gaze from the papers he studied and honed in on Magnus like an eagle spotting mildly interesting prey. “It took you long enough to get here.”

“I came as quickly as I could.”

The lie slid smoothly.

“What have you been up to, Magnus? You’ve been keeping to yourself a great deal the last few days. You missed an opportunity to go out hunting with me again just this morning.”

“I’ve been reading.”

The king smiled at this, but the warmth of it didn’t reach his eyes. “I find that difficult to believe.”

Magnus shrugged. “Did you just want to get an update on my hobbies or were we to discuss more important matters?”

The king leaned back in his iron and black leather throne and regarded his son. “You remind me so very much of myself at your age. It’s truly uncanny.”

Magnus wasn’t sure if this was meant to be taken as a compliment or an insult.

“How go your plans with Chief Basilius?” he asked, wanting to shift the focus off himself.

“Everything is lining up. Don’t worry, my son, I’ll keep you informed of every important step. And I’ll be requiring your assistance in larger matters very soon.”

Since the position of the king’s valet was currently vacant due to the unexpected death of Tobias, Magnus was certain the king would need a new personal assistant to bridge such a gap. It sounded as if it would be him.

“As the king wishes, I obey.” It was nearly impossible to say without noticeable sarcasm. Old habits died hard.

“I did call you here for a specific reason.” The king studied him for a moment. “What of Lucia? Have you noticed anything unusual about her?”

Magnus knew this was coming, so he was prepared. He glanced briefly off to the side to see the Damora coat of arms, bearing the familiar words Strength, Faith, and Wisdom. “I’ve been watching her very closely, but she seems just as she’s always been. If she appears distracted to you in some small way, maybe she just has a crush on some insipid boy.”

“No, it wouldn’t be something as meaningless as that.”

“Well, I wouldn’t know exactly what I should even be watching for, would I? You refuse to share any details with me.”

So much for him being a part of the king’s important future plans for this kingdom. Perhaps those were only words. The thought was oddly disappointing.

The king leaned forward from his plain but intimidating iron throne—the ornate golden, jeweled one Magnus’s grandfather had ruled from had been permanently removed years ago. He pressed the tips of his fingers together. “I think you might be ready to learn the truth.”

Magnus raised a brow, surprised. “So tell me.”

“I keep forgetting that you’re not only a boy anymore. You are very nearly a man and as such should be included in everything I do. Honestly,”—the king stood up from his seat and walked a slow circle around Magnus, his gaze sweeping the length of his son with an odd mix of criticism and approval—“it’s like looking into my past. Sabina mentioned this to me only the other day.”

“Sabina mentioned what?”

“How very alike we are. You know, I met her when I was not much older than you.”

Magnus’s stomach soured. “How nice for you. Was she already married back then or did you wait until after her nuptials to bed her?”

The king gave him a thin smile. “Your tongue is tipped with spikes. But that’s all right. A future king needs every weapon he can get at his disposal. Trust me, when you’re on the throne, there will be very few you can trust.”

“And yet you trust Sabina?”

“I do.”

The only way to get answers from this impossible man was to ask questions directly—while not appearing to really care about the answers, of course. If he seemed too eager, he knew his father would continue to withhold the truth from him indefinitely.