Gathering Darkness (Falling Kingdoms #3)(90)
“Another betrothal?” Magnus got his laughter under control, but barely. “You can’t be serious.”
“Do I look anything but serious to you?”
Magnus sobered quickly, casting another look over his shoulder at the silent Cronus who stood nearby like a statue, his hands clasped behind his back. “In case you’ve forgotten, I’m already married to Princess Cleiona. At your command.”
“That arrangement can be reversed at my whim.”
Magnus hissed out a breath of frustration. “Even so, the emperor would never agree to this.”
“His daughter is nearly nineteen and unmarried. You are the son of a king and the heir to my throne. You’ve already shared flesh with her. I don’t see any reason for him to refuse.”
As he always did when dealing with this impossible man, Magnus struggled to maintain his composure. “You need to listen to what I’m saying to you, Father. Trust me, if I believed this was a solid plan I’d embrace it. But it’s not, so I won’t. It is a meager attempt to solve a very large problem. Amara isn’t a na?ve, simple girl who swoons at the sight of a prince. What we shared wasn’t . . . well, believe me, it wasn’t the kind of connection that would make her beg her father to make me her husband. If the emperor wants Mytica, he will take it. A wedding—such as the gaudy spectacle you’ve arranged for Lord Gareth here today—would be meaningless to him. Go ahead and present this plan to the emperor if you’re so determined, but don’t be surprised if he also responds with laughter.”
Anger flashed in the king’s eyes and Magnus thought he might strike him for speaking his mind. But King Gaius’s fist stayed at his side.
Almost immediately the anger was replaced with a visage of contemplation. Could it be possible that, for the first time, he would actually listen to reason?
“I know there has to be a solution,” Magnus said evenly, refusing to give up what little ground he’d gained. “But I don’t believe this is it.”
The king placed his empty goblet on a table and paced back toward the stairs leading to the throne. “Perhaps you’re right.”
A small victory. But it was a true surprise.
“Besides,” Magnus said, gaining confidence “the people of Auranos would find it strange if you were to annul my marriage to the princess so soon after presenting such a pleasant facade during our wedding tour.”
The king searched Magnus’s face, making him feel self-conscious, like a child caught behaving naughtily. “Have you developed feelings for Cleiona?”
The question was laughable, especially given his recent and deeply unpleasant altercations with the princess. “She’s a means to an end. That’s all she’s ever been to you or to me.”
“She’s become a problem.”
“When has she not been a problem?”
“A former lord of Auranos,” the king began, “claiming absolute loyalty to me, came forth earlier today to alert me that he witnessed Princess Cleiona meeting with Jonas Agallon two weeks ago in a local temple. He was at the temple to pray to the goddess when he saw the rebel leader enter the building, followed by the princess. They then spoke in private, he says, for several minutes before leaving separately. If this information weren’t so crucial I might have had him executed on the spot for waiting so long to come forward.”
A welling sense of unease closed up Magnus’s throat. “And you believe this lord?”
“I’m inclined to consider the possibility that your wife has been feeding inside information to rebels in an attempt to destroy us, yes.”
“And you have what proof? The word of a man who would wait two weeks to say anything?”
“It’s enough to make me doubt her innocence.”
Magnus wasn’t blind about Cleo in this regard. He was all eyes and ears when it came to that scheming girl.
Jonas Agallon. That name, always that name. Magnus should have killed him when he’d had the chance.
“Has she confessed to any of this?” he asked.
“She hasn’t been interrogated yet. In fact, I want you to be the one to question her, Magnus. Immediately.”
The request was ludicrous and set Magnus’s stomach churning. “You’re telling me you’d like me to casually stroll by her chambers and bring up the subject of rebels over tea? Or perhaps I should wait until this evening when we’re seated for dinner at Lord Gareth’s daughter’s wedding?”
“She won’t be attending the wedding. She’s currently being detained in a private cell in the dungeon.”
Magnus went quiet. Of course she was. A traitor and a spy, even only a suspected one, wouldn’t be allowed to roam about freely.
He wasn’t sure why this had taken him by surprise—he’d never trusted the girl himself—but this? To think that she’d been in contact with Jonas without Magnus suspecting a thing . . .
Or perhaps his father was just being paranoid, reaching for answers and accepting ones that were lighter than air itself.
The king put his hand upon Magnus’s scarred cheek, holding his gaze fiercely. “I want you to show me your strength today—a strength I already know you have. A strength I know we share. We are together in this. Do whatever you must to wrench the answers I need from her lying tongue, but in the end, it really doesn’t matter if she chooses to stays silent. Suspicion of rebel leanings is enough to warrant a death sentence. I’ve ordered Cronus to execute her immediately after you finish your interrogation. We’ll finally be free of her.”