Frozen Tides (Falling Kingdoms #4)(101)

“It doesn’t matter whether or not she loves him in return. Unrequited love is still love.” He shook his head. “As I grow older, I’m beginning to understand my mother’s choices more and more. I don’t forgive them, but I understand. My son doesn’t realize how very much he is like me.”

Now Amara’s curiosity was sharply piqued. “In what ways?” she asked.

He didn’t reply.

She frowned, still hoping to coax more information out of him. “Do you mean to say that . . . you once loved someone in the way you believe Magnus loves Cleo?”

The king mouth had fallen to a grim line. “Never mind. It was a very long time ago. Meaningless now.”

“Was it . . . are you thinking of Althea?” Amara had never met the former queen, but she’d seen her stern portrait in the hallways of the Limerian palace.

“No. Not Althea.” Gaius stared down again at the parchment. Just when Amara thought he was done opening up for the day, he started speaking again, an almost pitifully wistful tone in his voice. “When I was a young man, even younger than Magnus, I took a trip overseas. I met a girl. A beautiful, challenging, frustrating girl. We sparred, we argued, we discussed every topic imaginable, and she quickly became my entire world. I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her, I was sure of it. But my mother had other plans for me—plans that didn’t take into account my utter devotion to another. ‘Love is weakness,’ she told me. ‘And it must be destroyed, or else deceptive, dangerous creatures will exploit that weakness for their own gain.’”

“What happened?” Amara asked, drawing closer to Gaius to make him feel comforted.

“My mother intervened. She poisoned this love with words and threats and a darkness I didn’t even know she possessed, and soon the girl’s love for me turned into hatred. Eventually she married someone else and had beautiful children.”

And in turn, Amara though, you became the very monster she believed you to be. “And where is she now?” she said aloud. “Do you know?”

His jaw grew tight. “She’s dead,” he gritted out.

“I’m sorry,” she said, still in silent disbelief that this story of love and loss and pain had just been uttered by the King of Blood himself.

“I’m not,” he said, his eyes growing cold again. “My mother was right about love. Without her meddling, I would not be the king I am today. And now I know exactly what needs to be done when it comes to ensuring my son’s destiny. I will remove the temptation from him, permanently, just as my mother did for me.”

He tore the message into pieces and cast it into the sea.





CHAPTER 28


MAGNUS

LIMEROS

Magnus lay awake the entire night, prepared to meet the king’s ship the moment he heard the guards’ call. But when the sun began to rise and there was still no sign of the Kraeshians, Magnus grew frustrated, cursing Jonas Agallon for needlessly agitating him.

He left his chambers and walked through the palace, grateful at least to be stretching his legs. Everything appeared to be as normal as on any other day. But of course it did. Other than the few overnight guards he’d ordered to keep watch for any approaching ships, Cleo was the only one who knew what lay on the horizon.

His father’s return. Amara’s occupation.

The end of Mytica—and life—as he knew it.

He exited the palace, bracing himself for the icy chill that had recently reigned in Limeros. But, as he entered the ice gardens, there were none of the harsh, painfully cold winds that usually sliced across his face. He looked up to see that the skies were cloudy but bright today, and a few snowflakes had started to fall.

He tilted his head back and closed his eyes, feeling the familiar sensation of soft white flakes melting on his skin.

He slowly walked through the gardens, alone, allowing himself to enjoy the sights and sounds of his home, for once not moving as quickly as possible from one point to another.

He would miss mornings like this.

At the edge of the cliffs, with the black palace rising up to his left, Magnus scanned the Silver Sea, searching for signs of the Kraeshian armada. Resistance would lead only to more death and pain than his citizens already had in store. Magnus stood no chance against Amara’s forces, and the king knew it.

It would finally be time for him to answer for his crime of treason, and he would soon understand fully why his father was known as the King of Blood. Magnus didn’t expect any mercy.

And he swore to himself that he wouldn’t beg for it.

During his sleepless night, Magnus had given a great deal of thought to the messages he’d received from Kraeshia. Something about his current situation felt desperately wrong, had left him with a sour taste in his mouth that he couldn’t get rid of.

Both of the messages had been written by and sent from rebels—rebels who knew one another, had worked together in the past.

Felix Graebas had sent along a swatch of his own skin to prove he’d shifted loyalties from the Clan to the rebels. But why should Magnus believe that it really was his tattoo, his skin? And what kind of coincidence was it that Felix had sent his message just as his compatriot Jonas arrived at the palace?

And then there was the message from Jonas that arrived last night, warning of imminent danger, striking dark fear into Magnus’s heart.