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“You’re the only one in the world who means anything to me.” His voice broke. “I love you, Lucia. I love you to the very depths of my soul.”
She just stared at him.
“You said that you loved me.” He tried to keep his voice firm. “More than anyone else.”
“As a brother. As my dear brother, I love you unconditionally.”
It was as if his heart had stopped and the world crashed down all around him. “Only as a brother.”
“You can’t do that ever again. You can’t touch me like that. It’s wrong, Magnus.”
He clenched his fists at his sides. “It’s not wrong.”
“I don’t feel the same way toward you.”
“But someday you might—”
“No.” Tears shone in her eyes. “I will never feel that way. Please, let us never talk of this again.” She ran a hand over her long dark hair, as if attempting to straighten it. She moved to the door, but he caught her wrist to stop her.
Magnus’s eyes burned. “Please don’t leave me.”
“I have to. I can’t be near you right now.”
She pulled out of his grasp and left his room.
He stood there facing the door, unmoving, unthinking. Stunned by what had just happened.
She would turn her back on him and punish him for this. For showing her how he felt. For opening his heart in ways he’d never done before with anyone.
Magnus had always been a fool. A child. One who was easily beaten or abused by those who were larger or stronger or more powerful. All his life he’d endured so much pain and developed only a thin mask to cover his true feelings. But masks could easily be removed and smashed with only a few words.
As of today, he was no longer a child. He had killed. He had lost the one he loved more than any other—and she would never trust him as she had before. Nothing would be the same with Lucia from this day forward. He’d destroyed that forever. And for a moment, all alone in his chambers, he clenched his fists at his sides and let himself cry over the loss of his beautiful sister and best friend.
Then his heart, now broken into a thousand pieces, slowly began to turn to ice.
Cleo could barely function as she returned to the palace. Sounds were muted, and all she could really hear was the rush of blood through her veins and the pounding of her heart.
Theon was dead.
“Try not to worry. Stay next to me,” Nic whispered as they were brought immediately before the king. The guards hadn’t given Cleo a chance to go to her room first. Frankly, they seemed surprised that she’d returned at all.
She didn’t speak. She wasn’t sure that she could speak.
The tall wood and iron doors swung inward, and there he was. The king. A guard had hurried ahead to inform him of Cleo’s return.
His face was pale. He looked even older than she remembered.
“Cleo,” he began. “Is this real? Have you truly returned, or are you only an illusion?”
They were ushered into the room and the doors shut heavily behind them. Cleo got a pitying look from one of the guards. He knew of the king’s temper.
“I’m sorry,” she managed, but could go no further before she started to cry.
The king swiftly moved toward her and gathered her into his arms. “My poor girl. I’m so relieved you’re home.”
This was a surprising reaction since the king had been stern with her for so long she’d practically forgotten his tender side. Finally he let go of her and helped her to a chair. His gaze flicked to Nic. “Explain.”
Nic shifted his feet. “Where should I begin?”
