Gathering Darkness (Falling Kingdoms #3)(62)

“Twenty-seven,” Nerissa said, meeting her gaze in the mirror.

“So many.” Cleo had already known of the plan to rescue Lysandra and the other rebel. Nic had told her of his agreement to assist Jonas at the palace by disguising him and his associate in Limerian uniforms and ushering them safely from the city. Her fear for Nic’s safety had almost trumped her trust in Jonas’s abilities, and she had been very close to insisting that Nic bow out of the deal. But Nic had insisted it was the right thing to do. It was an act of rebellion that the king couldn’t ignore.

And the fact that Nic’s bullies Milo and Burrus had been blamed for the explosions and now sat in the dungeon awaiting their fates didn’t cause her heart any unrest.

But those twenty-seven people who had been killed in the process unsettled her deeply. So much damage, so much suffering. Had Jonas felt that this much loss of life was warranted?

“I wish there’d been another way,” Cleo said.

“I know, princess. But don’t lose faith. Jonas only wants the best for all of us.”

Cleo twisted her amethyst ring, trying to take strength from it. “So, basically, he’s the very opposite of Prince Magnus.”

“I like to think so.”

Memories of last night replayed in her mind. She’d gone to the temple on a whim, to pray and be silent with her thoughts. But then he’d shown up.

To think that for even a second she’d been so close to . . . what? Trusting him? Believing he was something more than a cruel boy who took pleasure in torturing her?

She was such a fool.

“I hate him,” she spat. “I hate him so much I can barely see straight.”

Nerissa wove Cleo’s long pale locks into a thick plait, which she then wound into a loose bun at the nape of her neck before pinning it securely into place. “Yes, that’s definitely your problem.”

Was that judgment in her voice?

Cleo blinked with surprise. “Excuse me?”

“Hatred is like fire. It burns the one who harnesses it. It’s also extremely hard to see more helpful truths through its flames.”

Nerissa was wise beyond her eighteen years.

“You’re absolutely right,” Cleo said, her brow furrowed as she remembered her conversation with the prince. She pushed past the blinding flames of her hatred toward the boy who’d thrown Theon’s death back in her face, making her deeply regret thinking she might be able to trust him.

But she wasn’t the only one who shared dark truths last night. Magnus had told her that Lucia was adopted—a revelation more shocking than his confirmation of his feelings toward her.

Perhaps Magnus had realized he was opening himself up too much, peeling back the hateful layers that concealed his true self. He knew he needed to push her away before he revealed too much of himself . . . and of what he had in common with Cleo.

He’d succeeded, at the time.

But today was a new day.

Cleo had allowed herself to be manipulated by the memory of Theon’s death, and Magnus had managed to push her away when she’d gotten too close.

Nerissa was correct. Fire burned. Fire blinded.

Clever, Magnus, she thought. Very clever.

But not clever enough.

? ? ?

With every step she took toward Magnus’s chambers, Cleo wavered between having confidence and doubting what she was about to attempt.

Magnus’s natural demeanor was acidic, his manners unpleasant at best. But he’d also saved her. Helped her. Kept her secrets.

There had to be more to him.

When she reached his door, she allowed herself a moment of hesitation.

I can do this, she told herself. I need to be strong.

She raised her hand to knock, but before she could make contact, the door swung open and she found herself face-to-face with Princess Amara.

Amara smiled brightly. “Good morning, Cleo.”

Stunned, Cleo merely stood there and blinked. “Amara, I—I didn’t expect to see you, here.” Her gaze then fell to the partially unfastened ties on the girl’s dress.

Amara’s brows drew together. “Oh, dear. This isn’t a problem, is it? I’d assumed, based on what I’d heard, that such affairs were unimportant to you.”

Cleo glanced past Amara to see Magnus approaching the doorway. His dark hair was messy and his shirt was missing, revealing more bare skin than she’d ever seen on him before.

The realization that these two had spent the night together hit her like a lead weight.

“To what do I owe this unexpected visit, princess?” Magnus leaned against the door frame, showing no sign he was having difficulty recovering from all the alcohol he’d consumed last night. Apparently good Paelsian wine caused no ill effects other than loose tongues, spilled secrets, and the inability to care who shared one’s bed.

Cleo grappled to find words to fill the silence. “After our harsh words last night I thought we should speak again. But I see you’re otherwise occupied.”

“I was just leaving.” Amara cast a worried look at Magnus through her thick eyelashes. “Have I crossed the line?”

“No line I didn’t want you to cross.” He put his arm around her waist, drew her back against him, and kissed her. “I’ll see you again soon.”

“Good day, Cleo.” Amara gave her a tight smile, then slipped past her and down the hallway. Cleo watched her go until she disappeared around a corner.