Gathering Darkness (Falling Kingdoms #3)(91)

A heavy silence washed over the room. Magnus struggled to find his voice. “Execute her? Is that completely necessary?”

“Yes, it is. The citizens of Auranos will mourn, but they’ll come to understand that when it comes to treason, this is the only decision we can make.” He patted Magnus’s arm. “Go with Cronus. I have faith in your abilities and your strength, my son. Your future—all of our futures—hang in the balance.”

And with that, the king left the throne room. Magnus stood there for a moment, reflecting on what had been said, what had been commanded of him.

“Your highness?” Cronus prompted.

The king had issued an order. There was no room to argue. “Let’s not delay. We can be finished with this by the time the wedding guests arrive.”

Magnus had never interrogated a prisoner before, but he’d seen it done. He’d witnessed the effects of torture. In most instances, it took very little to make prisoners spill every secret. For some, the mere threat of pain was enough for them hand over their own mothers if it would save them from any amount of suffering.

Another guard intercepted them as he and Cronus headed toward the dungeons.

“Captain,” he said to Cronus, holding up a piece of parchment. “A servant found this. I thought you should see it immediately.”

Cronus took the parchment and scanned the message. “Has anyone else seen this?”

“No, sir. I brought it directly to you.”

“Your highness,” Cronus said, turning to Magnus. “You need to read this.”

Magnus took the parchment from Cronus and began to read. His heartbeat quickened and his stomach sank further with each word.

Alexius and I are eloping. Please know that I’m fine, but don’t try to find me. All is well. Better than well. I’m happier than I’ve ever been, so please don’t be angry with me. I love Alexius more than anything in this world and it was meant to be this way. I promise to return as soon as I can.

—Lucia

Magnus tore the parchment in two, his hands trembling with rage. He’d known there was something going on between them, but to realize it had escalated so quickly to this inconceivable point . . .

“Send as many guards as you can spare. Scour the city and find them,” he growled. “And when you do, kindly let me be the first to know, so I can kill the bastard.”

“Yes, your highness,” Cronus said.

“Keep this information from the king for now. Don’t tell him until after his wedding speech. I wouldn’t want my sister’s foolish decision to upset him before it’s absolutely necessary.”

Cronus nodded at the other guard, who then scurried off to arrange a search team.

Magnus crushed the parchment into a ball and swore under his breath. “I’d go with them, but I have other important matters to attend to, don’t I?”

Cronus’s tone sharpened. “About the task at hand. I need you to accept that the king has given his order and I will do as he commands. There’s only one way this can end, your highness.”

Magnus nodded with a firm shake of his head. “I’d expect no less from you than to do as the king commands. My father’s been very lucky to have such a loyal guard all these years, whether or not he’s ever told you so himself. Now, let’s not keep the princess waiting.”

? ? ?

Magnus had toured the main dungeon before, had gotten a good look at the imprisoned rebels and other thieves, murderers, and vagrants who filled the cells of this stinking pit. But today he was taken to a different part, down a darkened hallway and to a heavy wooden door at the far end. The guard who stood outside nodded at Cronus and the prince, then opened the door to give them entry.

The rest of the dungeon smelled like a cesspit, but this area, which was reserved for upper-class prisoners, smelled only of the dry, woodsy sawdust scattered across the floor.

The circular room was surprisingly large, about twenty paces in diameter. Shackles and other restraints lined the circumference. The stone walls were set with torches and lanterns that cast a flickering, shadowy glow on everything.

And there she was. Directly in the center of the room, her hands raised above her head, her wrists bound by rope and fastened to a hook hanging from the ceiling. Magnus drew closer, and she raised her chin as she watched him approach.

He saw blood at the corner of her mouth, trickling down to her chin and the edge of her turquoise gown. As he walked around her slowly, he noticed with displeasure that her pale hair was also stained with blood.

Someone had struck her very hard.

“Did she give you any trouble when you took her into custody?” Magnus asked the guard at his side.

“Yes, your highness. I have a wound on my arm where she bit me. Her teeth are very sharp.”

Magnus wasn’t surprised. The girl would be a fighter until the very end of her life. He couldn’t help admiring her for it. “I’m sure they are.”

Cleo kept her gaze on his, silently watching him wherever he roamed. He forced himself to look at her not as a girl—his wife—with blood on her face, but as his enemy. The enemy to his father’s throne. To his throne.

If she had her way, they’d all have been dead by now.

“So, here we are,” he began. “Do you have anything to say for yourself, princess?”

“I would demand immediate release and a thousand apologies,” she said curtly, “but I doubt you’d give them to me.”