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“Nobody owns us. You hear me? Nobody.” Jonas remembered his brother’s words all those years ago. “If you want something, you have to take it. Because nobody’s ever going to give it to you. So we’re going to take back what’s been taken from us. And then we’ll create a better future for Paelsia. A better future for us all.”
“How?”
“He hasn’t a clue,” Brion said, actually smiling now for the first time in days. “But he’s going to do it anyway.”
Jonas could help but grin back. His friend was right. He would figure out how to fix this. There was not a doubt in his mind.
Jonas cast a look toward the Auranian palace. While it glittered golden under the sun, part of it still burned from the explosion at dawn yesterday. A black cloud of smoke rose up above it.
He’d heard the reports. The king was dead. The eldest princess, Emilia, was also dead. However, Princess Cleo hadn’t yet been found.
When he’d heard this news, he was surprised at the lifting of his heavy heart.
The girl whom he’d blamed for his brother’s death, the one he’d fantasized about killing to gain vengeance, the one who’d cunningly managed to escape her own fate, her shackles, and a locked and guarded shed.
She was queen now. A queen in exile.
And he had to find her.
The future, both Paelsia’s and Auranos’s, now depended completely on her survival.
Princess Cleo’s bedchamber was now Lucia’s. Magnus stood by while the medics and healers surrounded her, but they left when they could do nothing more to help. She lay there in the large canopied bed, her beautiful face pale, her midnight-black hair fanned across the silk pillows.
Magnus stood stonily by her bedside cursing the goddess who hadn’t answered his prayers. One healer remained, wiping Lucia’s forehead with a cool, damp cloth.
“Get out of here,” he snapped.
The woman looked at him with fear before scurrying out of the room. He was getting that reaction a lot lately. With his actions on the battlefield, with the ease he took the lives of those in his path, and that he had been present when Chief Basilius was murdered, the reputation that he was the Prince of Blood had grown to nearly match his father’s reputation.
Only Lucia had ever been able to see the real him—even before his sword had tasted blood. But perhaps that Magnus had died the night when he’d shown her his true feelings. The mask he’d always worn had shattered, but a new one had grown, stronger and thicker than ever. He should be happy for this improvement. Instead, he felt nothing but grief for what had been lost.
“The love of a brother for his sister,” the king said from behind him. Magnus’s shoulders tensed, but he didn’t tear his gaze from Lucia’s face. “It’s truly a beautiful thing.”
“She’s not improving.”
“She will.”
“How do you know for sure?” Magnus’s words were as sharp as his sword.
“I have faith, my son. She is exactly as the prophecy said she’d be—a sorceress unlike the world has seen in a thousand years.”
He struggled to swallow. “Or she’s merely a witch who’s now destroyed herself to help you gain your victory over Auranos.”
His father scoffed. “Magnus, you are such a pessimist. Just wait. Tomorrow I’ll address my new subjects and set their minds at ease about their future. Everyone is now an honorary citizen of Limeros. They will celebrate my victory.”
“And if they don’t, you’ll make sure they’re punished.”
“Can’t have any dissenters. Wouldn’t look very good, would it?”
“You don’t think anyone will oppose you?”
“Perhaps a few. I’ll be forced to make examples of them.”
His father’s calm demeanor about all of this was infuriating.
“Just a few? We’ve swept in here and killed their king, the eldest princess, and taken over their land—as well as murdering the Paelsian leader. You think they’ll all simply accept that?”
“We were not responsible for Princess Emilia’s death. So tragic that she was ill. I’d never kill an innocent girl. After all, her ongoing presence in the palace would have helped ease my way into the hearts of Auranos’s citizens.”
