Rebel Spring (Falling Kingdoms #2)(79)
“I will have to tell my father when he returns from my brother’s wedding how disappointed I am in his poor choice of tutor.”
“Princess, please!” Domitia shrieked. “I will do anything you ask of me! Please don’t hurt me!”
The words were hollow in Lucia’s ears. Instead, she focused on the spear of ice, pressing it close enough to break the witch’s skin. A bright line of red blood spilled down her throat. The sight of it fascinated Lucia. How much blood could be spilled before the woman perished? And would this blood sacrifice help increase Lucia’s power even more?
A rumble sounded loud all around her and the floor began to shake. Lucia lost her footing and fell hard to the ground, bruising her shoulder. The spear of ice fell and shattered.
“What is this?” Lucia managed. “What’s happening?”
The candles fell off the table, their flames extinguishing before they landed on the floor. Lucia’s gaze whipped toward the witch, who held her hand to her injured throat and stared at the princess with fear as the earthquake finally came to a stop.
Lucia’s heart leapt into her throat as the beast within her withdrew into its dark cave.
Goddess, what had she been thinking? She’d nearly killed this poor woman!
Domitia’s voice trembled. “What are you?”
Lucia forced herself to look the witch directly in her eyes. “You will say nothing of what happened here if you value your life.”
“Princess—”
“Leave me!”
She didn’t have to say it again. Domitia fled the room without further argument.
Lucia’s heart pounded loud as thunder in her ears.
This is what my mother meant. She was right and everyone else was wrong.
She felt the truth in the thought. And what scared her more than anything else that had happened today was that a small part of her didn’t care.
A glimpse of golden feathers caught her eye as a hawk took flight from her balcony.
“Alexius! Come back!” She raced to the marble railing to see the hawk soar high into the blue sky until it disappeared from sight.
The sliver of hope that had briefly caught fire in her chest turned to bitter ash.
CHAPTER 23
CLEO
AURANOS
“It’s remarkable, really,” the king said loud enough for all to hear. He stood before the guests at the evening wedding banquet he’d insisted go on as scheduled at the palace, despite the carnage they’d left behind at the temple. “This young girl next to me had enough courage to say she wanted to continue with the ceremony and marry my son, not only in the face of a violent and horrific attack by insurgents, but after the world itself had been rocked beneath her feet. Tonight we shall mourn those we lost, but also celebrate together, victorious.”
Cleo wore a blood-free gown. Her hair had been neatened, her face washed. She sat stiffly between Magnus and his father on the dais and twisted her amethyst ring until it would surely leave a groove in her finger. The guests, she noted when she looked up from her golden plate that bore food she couldn’t stomach, looked every bit as stunned by the day’s events as Cleo did. Five of their fellow wedding guests had been killed by the collapsing temple before the rest had escaped outside.
These people didn’t want to be here any more than she did.
“I welcome this beautiful princess into my family. And I so look forward to introducing her to Princess Lucia when my daughter is finally well enough to leave her chambers. Despite its difficulties, today has been an incredible day of miracles and blessings.”
Miracles and blessings. It was all she could do not to leap from her seat and run screaming from this hall.
“Let us toast to the happy couple.” The king raised his glass, as did everyone seated at the long wooden tables, mountains of food and drink heaped before them. “To Magnus and Cleo. May their days together be as happy as mine were with my beloved, departed Althea.”
“To Magnus and Cleo,” the guests echoed immediately.
Cleo’s knuckles were white on her goblet and she raised it to her lips, only to find her hand was shaking. The taste of the sweet wine offered small comfort. Such a familiar taste now—this Paelsian wine. It teased her with the chance for escape. Perhaps she would drink enough wine tonight to drown herself in.
Nic caught her eye from the back of the hall, where he was standing guard at the far entrance. No guests were allowed to leave until the king decided the banquet was finished.
A sob rose in her throat, but she swallowed it down with another gulp of wine. A servant was at the ready to fill her glass when it was empty and she had another. Then another. Instead of the world brightening, though, it only seemed to grow darker, with shadows slithering across the floor, clutching at her ankles and legs.
As the banquet wore on, Cleo couldn’t stop thinking of Jonas. What must he think of her now? At her suggestion, so many rebels had been killed.
Magnus was a constant presence, so close that she could feel the heat emanating from his body. He smelled of the leather from his overcoat and a deep, warm sandalwood. He hadn’t spoken a single word to her since they’d left the temple. They’d ridden in the same carriage, but he kept his gaze on the view outside, on the landscape passing by on the return journey. He was sullen, cold. As he always was.