Gathering Darkness (Falling Kingdoms #3)(57)

The king nodded. “Then go. You will begin your lessons first thing tomorrow once Lucia has a chance to rest. Welcome to my kingdom, Alexius.”





CHAPTER 17


MAGNUS

AURANOS



The Beast.

The name of the tavern was humorous to start with, but after Magnus had finished his second bottle of wine, he found it downright hilarious.

“Another bottle,” he barked. “Now.”

The server placed a third bottle of Paelsian wine in front of him.

“Silas Agallon Vineyards,” Magnus read aloud from the etching on the green glass bottle.

He was drinking wine made by Jonas Agallon’s family.

Even more hilarity.

Despite his distaste for the kingdom itself, Magnus had quickly come to prefer Paelsian wine. Still, the place was a dry wasteland at best. And at worst, it was the site of bad memories and poor choices, of humiliation, defeat, and regret.

He drank straight from the bottle now, ignoring his goblet. How stupid that his father had forbidden such pleasures in Limeros all those years, citing religious reasons. Valoria had taught that to keep a clear mind was to keep a pure heart, and her people had obeyed. Magnus had always subscribed to this credo, believing that he truly preferred a clear mind to this . . . this . . .

Yes. This was better.

Drunk was much better than sober.

He cast a dark glance around the shadowy tavern. What few patrons remaining at this late hour had moved to tables in the back. The only people near Magnus were a couple of his guards.

He’d told them to leave him alone, but they’d ignored him. They were there “for his protection.”

Impudent bastards.

He raised the bottle. “To my sister and her shiny new tutor,” he said, tipping the wine toward the server before taking a long drink. “And to my father. Family—so important. So valuable. May they all rot together in the darklands one day.”

His own words amused him deeply, as did the server’s horrified response to his toast.

Magnus was halfway through the third bottle when he felt a hand clamp down on his shoulder.

“Your highness,” Cronus said. “It’s time to leave.”

Magnus flicked the guard’s hand away. “But I’m not nearly finished.”

“It wouldn’t please the king to see you like this.”

“Oh, no! The king wouldn’t be pleased. But I absolutely, positively want to please the king at all times. Don’t I?” He took another swig.

“You’ve had enough to drink.”

“Did you wake up this morning and suddenly decide to become my wet nurse, Cronus? Apologies, but I have no desire to suckle at your nipple tonight.”

“I could carry you back to the palace, but I’d prefer to give you the chance to walk.”

The prince responded to the guard’s rudeness with only a wry look. If anyone else spoke to him with such disrespect, Magnus would wish them dead. But having been the king’s most loyal and trusted guard for too many years to count, Cronus had gotten used to speaking his mind when necessary without fear of repercussion. He’d established his place in any palace the Damoras should ever occupy. And one day he would be loyal and obedient to Magnus’s every command.

But, unfortunately for Magnus, that day wasn’t today.

“How kind of you. Walking is one thing I’m sure my father agrees that I do rather well.”

Cronus fixed him with an impassive expression. “The king himself sent me here to retrieve you.”

“And, of course, you obeyed without hesitation.”

“He knows that you’ve developed a fondness for wine.”

Magnus cast the guard a curious look. “Does he? And what does he think of that?”

“He’s remarkably understanding. He knows what you’ve been through and forgives you your missteps. But he’d rather you drink inside the palace from now on, instead of at questionable establishments such as this, where one’s words or actions could be used against him, no matter who he might be.”

“How thoughtful of him.” The lightness that the wine had infused into Magnus’s head now began to darken at the edges. He stood up from his stool and faced the patrons at the back of the tavern. “My father forgives me for all of my missteps! He allows me to drink myself into a stupor as it will help me accept my destiny! I am the Prince of Blood, my father’s heir—and the path to my future is set in stone. Do you fear me as you do him, you worthless peons?”

Cronus pushed firmly against his right shoulder. “Enough. This is no place for the crown prince to be, especially after yesterday’s chaos. It’s not safe here.”

“Don’t touch me.” Magnus whacked the guard’s hand away, but this time he was not so gentle.

Cronus remained patient as ever. “I’d prefer for you to leave this place of your own free will, but my orders from the king are clear. I’m to return you to the palace, and if need be, your highness, I will render you unconscious and drag you back.”

Cronus was fifteen years Magnus’s senior and more skilled and experienced by far. He had no doubt that the guard could and would follow through with his threat.

Magnus might have been drunk, but he wasn’t stupid.

“Fine,” he spat out. “I’m finished here anyway.”