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“I’ve been thinking about it every day, and I’ve reached a breaking point, Cleo. When the prince returns . . . I can’t protect you from him every hour of the day and night. I won’t let him kill you like he did Mira.”
“Nic.” Pain flashed through her eyes at the mention of her lost friend. “I mourn Mira as deeply as you do, but it was the king who killed your sister.” She placed the book down beside her and grasped his hands. “Magnus spared your life—and he protected me in Limeros during the assassination attempt.”
He stared at her incredulously. “Are you really attempting to defend the same boy who murdered Theon? Who stood next to his father as they conquered this kingdom? You’re not . . . you’re not falling in love with him, are you?”
Cleo flinched as if he’d slapped her. “I’m doing nothing of the sort. I despise Magnus and I always will.”
He swallowed hard, ignoring the flash of guilt that he’d accuse her of something so unfathomable. “I don’t know why you wouldn’t want to leave this place and never look back.”
“Because it holds my childhood and sixteen years of happiness. It holds memories of Emilia and my father—and of your sister as well. This is my kingdom—our kingdom.”
“It’s different now.”
“You’re right. It is.” Cleo glanced down at the book, placing her hand on its cover. She paused for a few long moments, and then he saw her take a deep breath. “All right. You saw the drawing in here. You saw the ring and how much it looks like the one I now wear.”
He frowned. What was she getting at? “I did.”
She met his eyes. “That’s because they are one and the same. My father gave this ring to me in his dying moments.” Her voice caught. “There’s very little tangible information about it, but some believe it is a key to locating the Kindred and harnessing its power. It is the very same ring that the sorceress Eva possessed, which allowed her to touch the crystals without being corrupted by their power. I need to find those crystals, Nic. I need their magic. With it, I will defeat King Gaius and take back my kingdom.”
His head spun. “Your words . . . they’re mad.”
“No, this is real. I know it is.”
Nic tried to process everything she was saying, but one thing stood out, something he couldn’t get past. “Why didn’t you tell me any of this before now?”
She faltered. “I didn’t want to endanger you—and I wasn’t sure what to do, what to believe. Not completely. But I do now. This book confirms what I already knew to be true. My ring can help me destroy King Gaius.”
His gut churned, but despite such revelations, one thing stayed true from the moment he walked out here. His goal had not changed. “If anyone else learns that you possess this ring . . .” He took her hand in his, the purple stone cold against his skin. “We’ll leave tonight and we’ll find it together.”
Her gaze turned bleak. “Nic. Please understand that I can’t leave.”
There had to be a reason why she resisted this plan, which solved so many problems. And he could think of only one. It was one that tortured him. “When you kissed him in Limeros, it looked so real—it looked like you wanted to kiss him.”
Cleo groaned with frustration and pulled her hands from him. “I already told you that whatever you saw between us was for show only.”
He had believed that at the time. But the image of Magnus drawing the princess to him and kissing her before the cheering crowd had worked like a slow moving poison injected beneath his skin. He had to get this out. He had to speak from his heart or he knew it would be too late.
Nic took her hands in his again and knelt before her. “I love you, Cleo. More than anything in this world. I beg you to run away with me—away from all of this.”
The other guards had finally taken notice of the two and drawn closer.
“Is everything all right, your highness?” one called out to her.
“Yes, of course. My friend is just being silly.” She smiled sweetly in their direction before casting a sterner look at Nic. “You’re going to get yourself thrown in the dungeon for such foolish behavior.”
Pain blossomed in his chest as if he’d been struck by a blade. He was silent for a moment, his disappointment crushing him. He pushed back up to his feet. His heart was a heavy weight. “I need to go. I need to think.”
“Nic!”
He left the courtyard without looking back.
“Another.” Nic signaled for the server. He’d lost count of how many drinks this would make. And he planned on many more before he’d pass out later on his hard cot in the servant’s quarters.
“She doesn’t love me,” he slurred, tossing back the glass of fiery liquid. “So be it. May both our unavoidable deaths be swift and painless here in the heart of our enemy’s lair.”
The tavern was called the Beast, because it looked like a great black creature crawling up out of the dirt. Also, because it was well known to give its patrons a beast of a headache the following morning. At the current moment, Nic really didn’t care.
“You look like you’ve had a rather bad day.” The voice was lightly edged with an exotic accent. “Does the drink help?”
