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“Emilia—she...she’s dead.” Her throat tightened and Nic pulled her closer to his side.
Aron’s bleary face went pale with shock. “Cleo, no. I can’t believe it.”
Cleo drew in a ragged breath. “There’s no time. Say nothing more about it. She’s gone and there’s nothing I can do to help her now. We need to survive. And I need to find my father.” She looked at Nic. “Go find Mira. Meet us in the corridor by the stairs to the upper level in fifteen minutes. If we’re not there, continue on and hide where you can. There are plenty of rooms up there. Find one and be as quiet as you can. This is a very large castle, and this siege can’t last forever.”
“It’ll be all right?” Nic gestured at Aron. “With him as your only protector?”
“It’ll have to be.”
Nic nodded. “I’ll see you soon. Be safe, Cleo.” He quickly kissed her cheek before he turned and ran off down the hall.
“Maybe we should go with him,” Aron suggested. “There’s safety in numbers.”
“Not necessarily. Larger numbers could draw more attention.”
Cleo tried to push past her fear and grief to find an answer. She only had one. Find the king and then they all had to hide until this was over. If Auranos was unsuccessful in its attempts to fight off this enemy, they would have to find a way to escape from the palace and go into exile until they could make this right again. She hoped that her father had a better plan in mind. For now, survival was the only goal.
Aron didn’t argue any further, instead running alongside her in silence as they made their way through the labyrinthine hallways. When they turned the next corner, Cleo skidded to a stop.
She couldn’t speak. She just stared at the familiar person who now stood facing them holding a sword.
“Well, well,” Prince Magnus said. “Just the princess I’ve been looking for.”
A wall of fear descended upon Cleo. All she could see was Magnus thrusting his sword through Theon’s chest.
“Who are you?” Aron demanded.
“Me?” Magnus cocked his head. “I am Magnus Lukas Damora, crown prince and heir to the throne of Limeros. And who are you?”
Aron blinked, surprised at being faced with such a formidable member of royalty, even though he was their enemy. “I am Lord Aron Lagaris.”
This earned a thin smile from the prince. “Yes, I’ve heard about you. You’re rather famous, Lord Aron. You killed the wine seller’s son and started this whole ball rolling, didn’t you?”
“It was self-defense,” Aron said nervously.
“Of course it was. I have no doubt.” Magnus’s unpleasant smile stretched wider. “And you’re also, if I’m not mistaken, currently engaged to Princess Cleiona. Is that right?”
Aron straightened his back. “It is indeed.”
“How wonderfully romantic.” His gaze flicked to Cleo, who did everything she could not to recoil from the very sight of him. “As you can probably already tell, we’ve arrived. And we’re not going anywhere. Surrender.”
“To you?” Cleo’s words burst forth without any forethought. “Never.”
His expression tightened. “Oh, come now. I know we’ve had some unpleasantness between us in the not-so-distant past, but there’s no reason why you can’t be nice.”
“I can think of about a million reasons why I would never want to be nice to you.”
“Princess, you must not be rude to those who are now guests in your land. I’m offering you my hand in friendship right now.”
Her cheeks burned. “You dare invade my home, and now you treat me like an ignorant child?”
“My sincere apologies if you’ve taken it that way. My father will be pleased to finally make your acquaintance. Don’t make this more difficult than it has to be. I’ve failed to bring you before him once. I don’t intend on that happening again.”
Cleo clutched Aron’s arm, waiting for him to do something, to say something. To show that underneath the drunken, selfish exterior that he was a true hero she could forgive for anything horrible he’d done in the past.
“The prince is right,” Aron replied, his expression grim. “If we want to live through this, we need to do as he says. We need to surrender.”
She gave him a cold and enraged glare. “You are so incredibly pathetic, you make me want to vomit.”
