Gathering Darkness (Falling Kingdoms #3)(26)

His family was dead. His sister, Mira, had been murdered by the king himself for allegedly eavesdropping on his conversation with the loathsome Prince Magnus.

He’d failed Mira. He should have been there to protect her, but he wasn’t. The thought tortured him day and night. He wanted vengeance, but instead he took orders. He was a coward trying to survive, lost in a sea of his enemies.

With a heavy heart, Nic turned to guide the hounds back toward the castle and felt his left boot sink into a pile of dung.

“Fantastic.” His voice trembled as the last of his strength left him and he felt on the verge of tears.

Why did he stay here? Why didn’t he slip out of the gates, get on a ship, and sail away across the sea to start a new life somewhere far away from here?

He was a palace guard, not the palace jester. Perhaps he should start acting like it.

? ? ?

Nic couldn’t leave without saying farewell to Cleo. It would be the first time he’d spoken to her since he’d stormed off after she’d rejected both his romantic intentions and his offer to take her away from this horrible place full of ghosts. That had only been two weeks ago, but it felt as if a year had passed.

She likely hadn’t realized it, but Nic had been keeping an eye on her from afar in recent days. Even though she despised him now, he’d still promised to keep her safe.

And how is leaving her behind keeping her safe? he asked himself.

She didn’t need his help anymore. Maybe the idea that she ever had needed him had only been an illusion he’d cast forth himself to make him feel worthy.

He found the princess in the courtyard, reading, on a shady bench beneath a large oak tree. The princess was always in the courtyard reading—a behavior so different from the Cleo he’d grown up with, the one who only touched a book when her tutors insisted. And sometimes, not even then.

Today’s book featured a hawk on the cover, dark bronze against the pale tan leather, and appeared to be about the legends surrounding the immortal Watchers and their mystical Sanctuary. Piled next to her were more books, including a sketchbook he’d occasionally seen her draw in to help pass the time. Art was one class Cleo had seemed to enjoy.

“Cleo,” he said softly.

She looked up at him, shielding her eyes from the bright sun. “Nic!”

“Apologies for disturbing you, but I wanted to come here and—”

She leapt to her feet and threw herself into his arms. “Oh, Nic! I’ve missed you so much! Please, don’t be angry with me. I’m sorry I was so cruel to you. I didn’t mean it.”

A thick knot swiftly formed in his throat and his eyes began to sting. Then a smile took hold of his face and the heaviness that had been seated upon his heart shifted to the side just a little.

She took his face between her hands, staring at him with a worried expression. “You hate me,” she said.

“What? Of course I don’t hate you, Cleo. I thought that you . . . well, I thought you hated me.”

She gasped. “That’s ridiculous. I could never hate you, Nic. Never!”

He felt as close to joyful as he had in recent memory. The message of farewell he’d come to deliver died on his tongue. “I need to ask your forgiveness for what I said to you.”

She shook her head. “No forgiveness is necessary. Please, sit with me for a while.”

“I don’t think I can.” He glanced toward the other guards standing against the far wall. Between them, in the center of the courtyard, was a beautiful garden of flowers and fruit trees, but the guard’s view of the princess was clear enough.

“Forget them. They won’t bother us. And they can’t hear us speaking from all the way over there.”

She took his hand in hers. He sat next to her on the bench and looked down at her amethyst ring.

“Have you learned more about your ring?” he whispered.

“I have. But I confess I’m not sure what to do now.” Then she quietly and quickly launched into the most bizarre story Nic had ever heard—of magic, prophecies, and princess sorceresses.

By the time Cleo finished, Nic was dizzy.

“Unbelievable,” he managed to say.

“But it’s all true,” she said, squeezing his hand. “You’re the only one I trust in the world right now.” She inhaled shakily. “Lucia’s magic is associated with the Watchers. This ring belonged to the original sorceress—they say it helped to control her magic and kept it from corrupting her. With this ring, with Lucia, I’ll be able to find the Watchers’ greatest treasure . . . the Kindred itself.”

This was dangerous information, but Cleo was not wrong to trust him. He would never say a single word to put her life at risk, not even under torture. And not even if he were promised a boatload of gold in return.

With Mira gone, Cleo was now the closest thing Nic had to a sister. She was his family now—but then again, she always had been.

He hadn’t realized until now how heavily the secrets he’d been keeping had been weighing on him. He needed to unburden himself, to trust her as she trusted him.

He should have done so days ago.

Despite Cleo’s assurance that they were out of earshot, Nic scanned the area before deeming it was safe to continue to speak in complete privacy.

“Prince Ashur asked me about your ring,” he began. “He knows what it is, Cleo, and he’s very keen on finding the Kindred for himself.”