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“I will find her killer. I swear I will. And I will make him pay for what he’s done.” Magnus’s voice caught and he pulled from her grip to pace the room, keeping his face in shadows.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” she whispered.
“A loss to us all.”
He mourned their mother—deeply. But Lucia found that she did not.
Magnus strode across the room, absently stroking the scar on his cheek. He always did so when he was thinking deeply, whether he realized it or not. “Mother’s body was found with a witch—also murdered. Likely, this witch was supplying her with the sleeping potion. I just don’t understand why she’d do such a thing. What was she thinking?”
So her mother consulted with witches, did she? To fight fire with fire—magic with magic. “We’ll never know for sure,” she said instead. She reached out to Magnus and he came back to her side, grasping her hand in his again. “Help me up. I need to get out of this bed.”
ange and unfamiliar ache gripped her heart.
Alexius.
A young girl wearing a plain gray dress dozed in a nearby chair. After a moment, her eyes popped open and then widened. “Your highness . . . you’re awake!”
“Water,” Lucia managed to say.
The girl scurried to get water. “I must inform the king immediately.”
“Not yet. Please, give me a moment before you do anything of the sort.”
Of course, the girl obeyed. She brought water, which Lucia drank only after a short hesitation. Then the girl fetched fruit, cheese, and bread.
“Two months,” Lucia whispered with dismay when she asked how long she’d been asleep. “How have I survived so long?”
“You’ve been able to accept a specially prepared drink that has sustained you,” the girl explained. “The healers said it was a small miracle.”
Yes, a miracle. One that enabled her mother to administer the potion that kept her asleep. A tremor of anger coursed through her and the drinking glass she held shattered.
“Princess!” the servant girl cried out, clearly horrified that she’d injured herself, as she began picking up the sharp pieces of glass.
Lucia looked down at her bleeding hand, cocking her head as she considered the stinging wound. The King of Blood was her father. Did that make her the Princess of Blood? Her blood was so bright red it very nearly glowed.
Drops of crimson fell to the crisp white sheets. The girl quickly bound her hand with a cloth.
Lucia pushed her away. “It’s nothing.”
“I’ll get some fresh sheets.”
Lucia regarded her. “Don’t look so scared. Like I said, it’s nothing.”
She unwound the bandage and concentrated on her cut flesh. Her hand began to glow with a beautiful, warm golden light. A moment later, her wound was completely healed.
Her mother had been wrong about her. She wasn’t evil. This wasn’t evil. Using her elementia, especially after such a long absence, felt right. It felt good.
“I have heard rumors,” the girl whispered, awed, “about what you can do.”
The girl was much more of a nuisance than a plain, little mouse should ever be. “Rumors that I’d strongly suggest you put out of your mind lest they grow sharp teeth to devour you with.”
The girl paled. “Yes, your grace.”
“Go fetch my brother for me. Only my brother.”
As the little mouse scurried away, Lucia found herself shocked by the rudeness of her words. She usually treated servants with much more kindness than this. What was happening to her?
Lucia turned her head toward the balcony window in this unfamiliar room. She looked out at the blue sky dotted with fluffy white clouds and the rolling green landscape beyond. Undeniably beautiful, but not home. Not perfect, white, frost-covered Limeros.
