Immortal Reign(46)

Yes. The bloodstone definitely complicated his already complicated feelings for the man who had made his life far more painful than it should have been.

Perhaps tomorrow, the king’s speech would mark the beginning of a new chapter in their lives as father and son.

Magnus knew he, himself, had changed so much over the last year. Change could happen—if one wanted it to.

Perhaps there was room for hope.

The next morning, they lingered far too long in their sleeping chambers, taking breakfast there instead of joining King Gaius and Lucia.

And Lyssa.

Magnus still could not believe his sister had an infant daughter, but he knew he could accept it. He already loved Lyssa and knew he would do anything to protect his newborn niece.

As Magnus lay in bed, he propped himself up on his elbow to watch as Cleo pulled on her slip and fiddled with the laces, expecting at any moment for her to ask him for assistance.

But then she froze in place.

Her eyes locked on the wall in front of her, and her mouth twisted in pain.

Magnus jumped up and grasped hold of her shoulders.

“What’s happening?” he demanded.

“D-drowning,” she managed. “I—I feel like I’m . . . drowning.”

His gaze shot to her right hand, to the vine of blue lines spreading from the water magic symbol. Before his very eyes, the lines traveled up higher along her skin, encircling her upper arm.

“No,” he said, panic clawing at his chest. “You’re not drowning. You’re here with me, and everything is fine. Don’t let this overwhelm you.”

“I—I’m trying.”

“And you, water Kindred”—he stared fiercely into her blue-green eyes—“if you can hear me, you need to release your hold on Cleo, if that’s what this is. I will destroy you. I will destroy all of you. I swear it.”

Cleo collapsed in his arms, gasping for breath like she’d just come up from the depths of the ocean.

“It’s passed,” she managed a moment later. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine. This is not fine,” he snarled back at her, the pain of being unable to save her from this nearly unbearable. “This is as far from fine as anything that has ever been!”

She righted herself, pushing away from him and quickly donning the dark blue gown she’d chosen to wear today. “We have to go . . . your father’s speech. He needs you there.”

“I’ll get Nerissa to attend to you. You don’t have to be on the balcony with us.”

“I want to be there.” She met his gaze, and he could see the strength in her eyes, along with the frustration. “By your side. So everyone can see us together.”

“But—”

“I insist, Magnus. Please.”

He nodded, grudgingly in agreement, and placed a hand on her back, guiding her out of the room to join his father and Lucia in the throne room.

“So nice of you to join us,” the king said thinly.

“We were . . . otherwise occupied,” Magnus replied.

“Yes, I’m sure you were.” His attention moved to Cleo. “You look well.”

Cleo met his gaze directly. “I am well.”

“Good.”

“I wish you the greatest luck with your speech,” she said, a steady smile on her face. “I know how much the Auranian people love a good speech from their beloved king. Your recent . . . decisions with Amara will be all but forgotten, I’m sure.”

Magnus shared an amused look with Lucia, one that reminded him so much of those they’d shared over the years whenever they witnessed the king say something unkind to a guest. But he always managed to say it in a way that almost sounded like a compliment.

Almost.

“Indeed,” the king replied.

It seemed the king and Cleo had far more in common than Magnus ever would have thought.

From the throne room, accompanied by guards, the four took a winding staircase, located behind the dais, to the third floor and the large balcony overlooking the palace square.

The last time Magnus and Cleo had been present for a speech by the king on this very balcony, they had been betrothed, much to their mutual surprise and abject horror.

Lucia’s beautiful face held pain, her blue eyes as serious as Magnus had ever seen them.

“Is there something wrong?” Magnus asked his sister as they stepped onto the balcony to the cheers of the thousands gathered below.

“What isn’t wrong?” she replied quietly. “Shall I give you a list with Kyan at the very top of it?”

“Not necessary.”

“Silence, both of you,” the king said under his breath before he grasped hold of the marble railing and turned to the Auranians who milled below in the palace square, gazing up at the king with both interest and skepticism on their faces.

Then Gaius began to speak in a strong and powerful voice that traveled easily across the distance.

“In Limeros, our credo is: Strength, Faith, and Wisdom,” the king began. “Three values that we believe can see us through any adversity. But today I want to talk about truth. I’ve come to believe it is the most valuable treasure in the world.”

Magnus watched his father, unsure just what to expect from this speech. It would be unusual for the king to speak truthfully in such public appearances. Normally, he projected the illusion of a king who cared more for his people than he did for power. Not everyone knew the real reasons behind his nickname of the King of Blood.