Rebel Spring (Falling Kingdoms #2)(89)
Outside the castle, following in Magnus’s footsteps, she turned a distracted glance toward the gathered nobles who’d joined them today for an official presentation of a wedding gift by Lord Gareth, a close friend of the king’s. To their left was a pathway that wound through the ice gardens and into an intricate labyrinth of frost-covered hedges. To the right was a large clearing with a long, rectangular frozen pond, which led toward the castle itself. Beautiful but stark and pristine. Not an ounce of warmth existed in any direction.
“This is said to have belonged to the Watchers themselves.”
Her gaze immediately snapped back to Lord Gareth. She finally noticed the object they had halted near, the gift from Lord Gareth. It was a carved stone wheel taller than Cleo’s shoulder that protruded from the frozen ground at the entrance to the gardens.
“What about the Watchers?” she asked, struggling to keep her voice steady.
“Oh yes,” Magnus said. “Please tell us. It’s all so fascinating.”
It was rare that the prince said anything that didn’t mock whomever he spoke with. It was equally rare, she’d found, that anyone caught on to this as easily as she did.
Cleo remembered the rebel boy, Tarus, mentioning stone wheels that were associated with the Watchers and the Sanctuary. This couldn’t possibly be the same thing. Could it?
The balding but distinguished-looking lord clasped his hands in front of him, rocking on his heels, seemingly pleased he now had the royal couple’s full attention. “The Watchers watch us in the form of hawks.”
“A child’s tale I’ve heard a thousand times,” Magnus said, dismissively.
“Is it? Or is it true?” The lord appeared to welcome the chance to debate this. “Magic is very real, your highness.”
Magnus watched him, his gaze steady. “What makes you believe that?”
“I’ve seen many things that can’t be explained. I’ve met witches who can reach into themselves and use small pieces of elementia to create magic in the mortal world.”
Every piece of Cleo’s attention was now focused entirely on this man. This was it. This man could be the one to tell her what she needed to know most. “Is the Kindred real? I’ve heard stories about the elemental crystals, but they could just be legend.”
He glanced at her. “I believe it’s true. There is a whispered prophecy that says when the sorceress is reborn, she will be the one who leads the way to the Kindred.”
Cleo listened intently. A sorceress would lead the way? There was one thing she believed most of all—that the ring she now wore had once belonged to the sorceress Eva.
What did this mean?
The skies were gray today and snowflakes began to fall, speckling Cleo’s red cloak and the clothes of the nearby dignitaries with dots of white.
“Tell us more about this wheel, Lord Gareth,” Magnus said.
Heart pounding, she twisted her hands together, feeling the cool surface of her amethyst ring beneath her touch. She glanced toward Nic, who stood stiffly next to the other guards, as still as statues. His disdainful gaze was fixed entirely on Magnus.
The man moved toward the wheel and slid his hand over the curve of it. “Wheels identical to this are scattered across Mytica. For centuries no one has understood what they are and where they come from. Only that they’re very old and somehow connected to the Watchers.”
“How many wheels are there?” Cleo asked.
“A dozen have been found and documented. Each exactly the same but in different stages of disrepair.”
“How do you know they have something to do with the Watchers?” she asked, ignoring Magnus’s curious look at her.
The lord kept his hand on the wheel as he admired the carved surface of it. “There was an old man who lived in northern Limeros. Near the end of his days, he swore to all who’d listen that he was an exiled Watcher who had left the Sanctuary never to return. Once here, he became mortal, he aged, he became senile. His children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren listened patiently to his ramblings, but didn’t think much of it. He spoke of the wheels being here for a reason. He asked to be taken to one so he could touch immortality once again.”
The stone wheel seemed so innocuous to her, something no one would ever look twice at. “And did he?”
“No. He died before that could happen.”
“Likely, just an old man who didn’t know what he was saying.” Magnus’s expression was completely unreadable. “Much gratitude for this rare and generous gift, Lord Gareth. The wheel will be the highlight of this garden, I’m sure.”
“It’s my pleasure, Prince Magnus, Princess Cleo. May you have many happy years together.” He bowed and moved back to join the others.
“Prince Magnus!” a woman with gray hair and a wrinkled face called out to him. “Might I have a word? My son is still not betrothed and I was thinking about your sister . . . well, could we speak?”
“This tour cannot come to an end soon enough,” he muttered before moving off to join the enthusiastic woman.
Now alone, Cleo touched the smooth, cold surface of the large wheel. A skilled hand had created this once, many years ago.
“It’s how they get back and forth between the mortal world and the Sanctuary in hawk form,” Tarus had told her. “They have these magical, carved stone wheels hidden here and there. Might look like nothing but a ruin to us, but without the wheels, they’re trapped here.”