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Magnus was in front of her in an instant, grabbing hold of her arms to push her up against the hard stone wall. He lowered his face to hers so they were eye to eye. His body pressed against hers, locking her in place so she couldn’t break away.
“Oh, look. I’m touching you.” His gaze brushed against her face, stopping briefly on the faint bruise on her cheek. His brows drew together as his eyes again locked with hers. “Do not presume to tell me what I can and cannot do, princess. Any power you imagine yourself to have here is only what I allow. Please remember that.”
“Let go of me.”
“Not yet.”
He wasn’t hurting her, but she couldn’t move, could barely catch her breath.
Magnus spoke very slowly and very clearly. “Do you see? You’re at my mercy.” He leaned even closer so he could whisper. “Whatever I want to do to you, be it to inflict pain or pleasure, I will do whenever and however I like. Understand that.”
Suddenly, Cleo couldn’t breathe at all.
His grip on her tightened, his words hot against her ear. “My father wanted this union, not me. But this is what I must do to keep my position as his heir. One day everything my father has will be mine—his kingdom, his army, his power. I’m not risking that for anything or anyone. But let this much be crystal clear between us: I would sooner share flesh with a beast from the Wildlands than you. I believe its claws would be much less sharp.”
Magnus let go of her and stepped back. Her breath returned in a rush as she stared at him with shock.
“I could have you executed for this.” He touched the dagger beneath his coat. “You know that, don’t you?”
Cleo just nodded, keeping her gaze locked on his. Looking away now would only show her at her weakest.
“If you value your life and that of your good friend, your only friend, Nic, you will behave as a doting and besotted bride on our trip across this goddess-forsaken realm that begins tomorrow. You’ll put on a good show for the brainless masses who choose to believe my father’s lies about us. Do you understand me?”
She nodded with a jerk of her head. “Yes.”
Magnus turned to leave. Before he closed and locked the door behind him, he paused long enough to say one last thing. “And should anyone ask, this night surpassed every one of your wildest fantasies about me.”
Chapter 24
LYSANDRA
THE WILDLANDS
At dawn, Jonas and a score of enthusiastic volunteers had departed in search of glory at the royal wedding while the other half of their numbers remained behind at camp. Lysandra waited for news, busying herself with hunting and making arrows.
Several scouts had been sent out—including Nerissa—in search of more information about the road. Lysandra was still determined to find a weakness there. Something to exploit. Something to help her find and free her brother. Something to give her an edge if, by chance, Jonas failed in his quest to end the king’s life today.
Many hours later, there was an earthquake that knocked everyone off his or her feet. Brion immediately dove for Lysandra just as he’d done during the tornado in Paelsia, wrapping her in his strong arms as if he could protect her from any harm. When the violent shaking finally ceased she squirmed away from him.
“I . . . I need to go hunting again,” she said.
“Lys . . .” “No, just . . .” She glanced around at the other boys, who were now whispering to each other and laughing, despite their unease about the strange tremor. Brion’s crush on her was well known to everyone in camp by now, thanks to Jonas. “Just give me some space, all right?”
His expression fell. “I’m sorry. Of course.”
Lysandra grabbed her bow and headed deeper into the forest. Why should she feel annoyed toward the one boy in camp who’d been more welcoming than any of the others combined? The one who defended her to his own best friend when no one else did?
All she knew was that she didn’t feel anything other than friendship for Brion—and even that was frequently challenged.
She had no time for thoughts of friendship . . . or of romance. Not now. And definitely not here.
“Stupid,” she mumbled after wandering aimlessly through the forest not too far from camp. Leaves and fallen branches crunched beneath her feet with each step she took. She wasn’t sure who or what she referred to, but just saying the word aloud seemed to help.
After the tremor, most of her potential prey had found shelter in well-concealed hiding spots. It took until near dusk before she spotted a deer in the distance. She stilled herself, holding her breath. Slowly, she aimed her arrow toward the animal.
You’ll make a good meal tonight, my little friend. Hold still.
The sound of something heavy crashing through the forest startled the deer and it took off before Lysandra could release her arrow. She swore under her breath. Someone must have followed her from camp.
