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“Oh, no.” Mira cast up her eyes. “Why would we worry? Oh, Cleo, I love both you and Emilia dearly, but you’re making my brain hurt with all of this ridiculousness.”
Nic crossed his arms. “I don’t understand how the seeds work. They grow vineyards that create amazing wine...and they also cure diseases.”
“It’s earth magic.”
“Ah, I see. Perhaps you can ask this Watcher where the Kindred’s been hidden for a thousand years. That would be very useful information, wouldn’t it?”
lowered at him. “You don’t even believe in the goddess!”
His expression shuttered. He’d been patient with her up until now, but she’d gone too far.
Ever since her mother had died in childbirth, the king had turned his back on any kind of prayer or worship, and his subjects soon followed suit. Emilia was the only religious one left in the Bellos family.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“You’re young and you speak before you think. That’s how it’s always been with you, Cleo. I expect no better.”
She ran a hand under her nose. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“Don’t worry about me. Worry about yourself. I do. I worry about you constantly when compared to your sister. You’ll get yourself in trouble one day, Cleo, and I just hope that you’ll be all right. It’s one of the reasons I think a marriage to Aron, even at your young age, is a good idea. The duties of a wife will give you some well-needed maturity.” When she flinched, his gaze softened. “I’m trying to help you.”
“How is this helping? By reminding me that I have no control over my own destiny?”
He reached down to take her hand in his. “You need to trust me, Cleo. Trust me to make the right decisions for you, for our family.”
“Family is the most important thing to me. That’s exactly why I need to go to Paelsia,” she said softly. “Please say yes.”
His cheeks tightened. “No, Cleo.”
Her eyes burned. “So instead you’ll sit back and watch Emilia die? How is that making the right decisions for your family? You don’t care about her. You don’t care about me. All you care about is this hateful kingdom.”
He sighed wearily as he sat down at the table and turned his attention to the papers in front of him.. “It’s time you left, Cleo. I have work to do. This conversation is over.”
Cleo’s heart slammed against her rib cage. “Father! Please, don’t be like this. You can’t be so cruel and uncaring that you’d deny me this!”
When he shot a look at her of barely bridled rage, she staggered back a step.
“Go to your chambers. And stay there until dinner. Theon!” Theon stepped into the room a moment later. He’d been waiting just outside. “See that my daughter returns to her chambers and please ensure that she makes no foolish attempt to travel to Paelsia in the coming days.”
Theon bowed. “Yes, your majesty.”
There was nothing left to say. There was more that Cleo wanted to say, but even she knew when to hold her tongue. All that could be gained from more arguing was to summon her father’s anger even more. He might move up her wedding to Aron to a week from now as a punishment. Or even tomorrow.
The king didn’t believe that Emilia was dying. But Cleo believed more than she had before. She felt the truth of it deep in her heart. Only something magical could save her.
“I’m sorry, princess,” Theon said under his breath as they left the king’s presence.
Cleo’s cheeks were hot and her feet thudded against the floor as she unconsciously made her way through the labyrinthine halls and back to her chambers. She thought she’d been out of tears before, but there were buckets left. She cried them all when Theon left her, closing the door behind him.
But when her tears finally dried, their departure brought a slow and steely resolve.
The whole world—including her father—could repeatedly tell her no. In the end, it made no difference to her.
Cleo would fix this. No matter what it took or where she had to go, she would save her sister’s life before it was too late.
• • •
After dinner, Cleo gathered her closest confidents together—Nic, Mira, and Theon. “I’m going,” she said after she explained everything to them.
