Frozen Tides (Falling Kingdoms #4)(41)

“Yes. And he’s quite taken with his wife, isn’t he? When I last saw them in Limeros, they couldn’t keep their eyes off each other. Love’s like that. It’s one of the few things in life that are worth killing for, wouldn’t you say? He’d likely do absolutely anything for her, wouldn’t he? How romantic, considering she remains the greatest threat to your throne.”

The king’s expression was resolute and impassive, but his face had turned a shade redder.

“Apologies.” Princess Amara frowned. “Did I say something to upset you?”

“Not at all,” the king replied, and Felix watched him shift in his seat. “But tell me, while on your . . . impromptu trip to Limeros where you allegedly saw my son and his wife—”

“Not allegedly. I did see them . . . at the Temple of Valoria, in fact.”

“Did you also happen to see my daughter, Lucia?”

“I can’t say that I did. Why? Has she also fled her royal nest? Goodness, your grace, it seems that both of your children have abandoned you at such a delicate time in your rule. That must be rather disappointing.”

Felix and Milo shared a confused look. What, exactly, were they witnessing here?

The king chuckled, surprising his small audience. “Princess, you are a very special young woman indeed. I promise never to underestimate you again.”

“That would be wise,” she said, then glanced ahead. “Oh, look. We’ve nearly arrived at the Emerald Spear. This was the place I missed most while I was away.”

Felix turned in his seat to see the massive green palace rising high up into the sky.

“King Gaius . . . Felix, Milo . . .” Amara smiled brightly. “Welcome to my home.”





CHAPTER 11


CLEO

LIMEROS

Yes, very good, princess,” Lord Kurtis said. “Focus all your energy on the very center of the target.”

Cleo took her time carefully aiming her arrow, standing twenty paces from the target. It was cold, but the skies were clear and there was no snow to distract her today.

“When you’re ready, release the arrow.”

She let the arrow fly, feeling more confident than she had in any previous lesson.

But the arrow made it only halfway to its destination before taking a nosedive straight into the frozen ground.

This particular failure had become very familiar to her over the last week.

The sport of archery had seemed so easy from the sidelines, where she’d watched her sister compete. Now, looking down at her fingers, blistered and bleeding from daily practices, she realized how wrong her assumption had been. Every day it was the same: drawing back the bowstring, aiming, letting the arrow free. Over and over. And then failing each time, again and again.

She was further embarrassed by the fact that there were several guards posted near the archery field to witness her lack of progress, including Enzo, the friendly guard she made sure to say good morning to every day.

“Very good,” Kurtis said, trying to cheer her up. “You’re getting much better.”

She tried not to laugh. “You lie.”

“Not at all. You don’t see your progress, but I do. Your aim has become excellent and your strength is improving with each session. To master a skill like this takes extreme quantities of both patience and time.”

Why must everything important take so much patience and time when she had none of either left?

When she’d first met Lysandra Barbas, Cleo had been impressed by the rebel girl who had been so easily able to keep up with boys like Jonas, who could wield a bow and arrow as if she’d been born with them already in her grip. Although she’d never admit it to anyone, especially not to the belligerent Lysandra herself, Cleo had come to admire her deeply.

“I think that’s enough for today,” she said, putting down her bow and tucking her hands into the folds of her pale blue, fur-lined cloak.

“Very well.” Kurtis ordered a guard to pick up their equipment and they began to walk slowly toward the entrance to the palace. “Your grace, may I speak frankly with you?”

“About?”

“Prince Magnus.”

She glanced at him with surprise. “What about him?”

He hesitated. “Forgive me if I’ve misinterpreted, but I feel that you and I have become friends.”

“You haven’t misinterpreted at all.” Cleo could use as many friends as she could get. “Please, feel free to say whatever’s on your mind.”

“Thank you, your grace. The fact of the matter is . . . I’m a bit concerned for your husband. During the council meetings over which he’s presided, I can’t help but notice how so obviously doubtful the prince is about his abilities to lead. I fear it’s only a matter of time before the rest of the council catches on and begins to believe him inept. If the council finds him unfit to rule in his father’s place, they have the power to remove him from command.”

“All new leaders make mistakes at first,” Cleo said after a thoughtful pause. “And, as a matter of fact, I must disagree with you. When I sat in on the meeting he seemed both confident and capable.”

Did I just say that aloud? she thought with dismay.

She knew how much Magnus disliked delivering public speeches, so she really had been surprised at the seemingly effortless way he took command of the council meeting. When he spoke, it was as if everyone else faded from her view.