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“So you put her in danger with the knowledge that there might be an attack?” Rage, still controlled, boiled beneath his skin at the very thought of it. “Mother was also on that journey!”
“And your mother is fine, only shaken. Magnus, you think me so cold that I would put my wife and the princess in harm’s way without a single care about their safety?”
Magnus managed to hold his tongue. “So now what? We wait for the next letter to arrive listing further demands you won’t meet?”
“No. I’ve already sent out a search team. There are rumors a Paelsian rebel group has set up camp in the Wildlands not many hours’ journey from here. If they find her, your upcoming marriage can be a grand event to continue to distract the masses. But if they don’t . . .” He leaned over to absently stroke a lock of dark hair off Lucia’s pale forehead. “Then it’s fate. The rebels will be seen as the murderers of Auranos’s golden princess. They will be outcasts, hated by every person in this kingdom and beyond. Either way, we win. They lose.”
Magnus flicked a glance at the attendant, Mira, on the far side of the room. She cleaned the balcony railing, running a rag along it. Her plain gray dress, the innocuous outfit of a servant, allowed her to move about dim rooms without notice, hiding in the shadows, available when needed but otherwise unnoticeable.
But Magnus couldn’t help but notice that the girl’s face held both worry and outrage. She knew of Cleo’s kidnapping. Her brother, Magnus remembered, had gone along with the carriage as additional protection.
Some protection. Magnus personally would have taken the opportunity to have Nic punished for such a failure if the boy hadn’t looked absolutely destroyed when he’d returned with the rest of the guards.
“Kill me now,” Nic had spat at him, his voice breaking. “I deserve it for letting this happen.”
“And interrupt your misery?” Magnus had studied his tortured expression for a moment before turning away. “Not today.”
Magnus would not admit it to anyone but himself that the idea of the rebels capturing the princess disturbed him greatly. He didn’t want to care what horrors she might be experiencing at this very moment. Besides, the princess’s death would put an end to this ridiculous betrothal his father had insisted upon. It would be for the best.
But, still . . . it bothered him.
Irrelevant.
There was only one beautiful girl he gave a damn about and she was the one that lay in this bed.
“Do you know someone named Alexius?” the king asked after silence fell between them for a time.
“No. Who is that?”
“I visited Lucia yesterday for a few moments after your mother left her side. She murmured the name in her sleep.”
Magnus’s shoulders stiffened. Lucia had spoken in her sleep? “Did she say anything else?”
“No, only the name.”
He wracked his mind, but came up blank. “I don’t know anyone named Alexius.”
“Perhaps it’s a boy she was enamored with back in Limeros.”
“Perhaps.” His mouth was suddenly dry. He reached for the nearly empty pitcher of water on the bedside table and poured himself what was left. He’d never heard of an Alexius before. And now this boy resided in Lucia’s dreams? A ribbon of jealousy twisted within him.
“She’ll wake soon,” said the king.
“How can you sound so certain?”
“Because it’s her destiny to help me reach my destiny.”
There was something in the way the king said this, an absolute confidence that resonated like an echo in a canyon. “Who told you this?”
The king’s dark gaze flicked to Magnus, sweeping the length of him as if assessing his son’s worth. “Her name is Melenia.”
“Let me guess. Your mysterious new advisor.”
“That’s right.”
“Tell me, Father, will I ever meet this Melenia?”
“Perhaps one day. For now, it’s impossible.”
