Immortal Reign(30)

That certainly was true, Cleo thought. It had been for her and Magnus. “You’re not going to tell me who it is, are you?”

“No. But don’t worry—it’s not you, princess.” Nerissa frowned. “I mean Cleo. Using your name rather than your title might take some getting used to. Now, I will wish you goodnight. You need sleep. And tomorrow, if you want to begin channeling this magic within you, I will be readily available to help you practice.”

“Perhaps,” Cleo allowed.

After Nerissa left, Cleo pondered Nerissa’s seemingly overcomplicated love life as she tried to fall asleep and think about anything other than Magnus.

She failed.

The lines spreading out from the water magic symbol on her palm glowed in the darkness, pulsing with the beat of her heart. She pulled up the sleeve of her nightgown and traced her fingers along the lines, like branches of a tree . . . or veins.

Or scars.

Scars like the one on Magnus’s cheek.

Cleo forced the thought of his face away from her. It hurt too much to dwell on everything she’d lost.

She had to focus on what she still had.

This magic—this water goddess residing within her . . . what did it mean?

Could she use it to regain her power?

Magnus would approve of that, she thought.

Unable to sleep, she dressed herself in a light silk cloak in the dead of night and decided to go to the palace library and read until dawn. Certainly, she could find more books about the Kindred. She’d glanced at some in the past but had never paid close enough attention to them.

The palace had a scattering of Kraeshian guards on duty, but not nearly as many as there had been when Amara’s occupation had started. Some were stationed in the same places where Auranian guards once stood. They were as still as statues, not seeming to pay her any attention or ask where she was going.

It wasn’t nearly the same as it had been when she’d been here last, a prisoner of war forced to marry the conquering king’s son, watched closely with every move she made.

I could leave here, she thought. Run away and start a new life—put this one far behind me.

Cleo scratched her left palm, knowing such thoughts were full of weakness and fear and utter denial.

She refused to be weak or fearful.

Entering the library, blazing with torchlight even in the wee hours of the night, felt like truly coming home. She’d only recently developed a love of books after ignoring the treasures in this expansive space for most of her life.

Thank the goddess that King Gaius had not burned them.

The library was even larger than the throne room, with shelves carved from mahogany wood that stretched thirty feet high with gold ladders to climb in order to obtain books higher than an arm’s reach. The titles and scribes of these thousands upon thousands of volumes of story and history were kept in yet another book, one that she remembered trying and failing to decipher one day when the curator wasn’t around.

Cleo couldn’t find that thick ledger tonight, so instead she traced her index finger along hundreds of spines until she found one that called out to her.

It was simply titled: Goddess.

The brown leather cover had two golden symbols upon it—the symbols for water and earth magic.

She opened the book up and held it toward a torch so she could read it easily. It held the accounts of one who was Valoria’s personal scribe when she was in power in Nothern Limeros a thousand years ago, and it held sketches of the goddess Cleo had never seen before.

“The real truth about Valoria?” she mused to herself. “Or just the personal opinions of some lovestruck scribe?”

Despite Valoria’s rumored sadistic nature—rivaling only that of King Gaius’s—she was said to be as eternally beautiful as any immortal who’d ever existed.

Still, this book seemed like one worth reading.

Cleo tucked the book under her arm, deciding to take it back to her chambers to read more. She and Valoria had one important thing in common, something she couldn’t ignore: the water Kindred.

Sleep didn’t tug at her yet, so she continued to explore the library. She found an alcove that held a great surprise. On the wall, flanked by two small lanterns, was a portrait of her mother.

Cleo hadn’t seen this painting in years. She had assumed it had been burned with the rest of the Bellos royal family.

The fact that it hadn’t been destroyed filled her heart with a sudden burst of joy and relief.

Queen Elena Bellos looked so much like Emilia. Cleo wished she’d had a chance to know her.

Beneath the portrait was a glass case, similar to the ones that her father had stuffed with the gifts from royal families from overseas who’d come to visit and brought shining treasures from their kingdoms.

This cabinet held only one piece.

A jeweled dagger.

Cleo moved closer, realizing that there was something on the ground.

A piece of torn parchment.

Unable to stifle her curiosity, she picked up the parchment to find it was a letter written in a feminine hand. Part of it had been ripped away, leaving only a few lines for her to read.

My darling Gaius,

I know you must hate me. It’s always seemed to be that way between us—either love or hate. But know as I enter this marriage that I do so out of my obligation to my family. I can’t turn my back on my mother’s wishes. It would have killed her had I run away with you. But I love you. I love you. I love you. I could repeat it a thousand times and it would never stop being true. If there were any other way, know that I would—