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“Why are you telling me this?”
“I hope that you might encourage your husband to step down.”
“You think I have that kind of control over him?”
“You certainly seemed to have a certain sway over him at the council meeting when it came to how to handle Limeros’s debt. It’s clear to me that he’s come to value your opinion.”
“I don’t think we share that clarity.”
“Even so, will you consider this request, princess?”
She pushed a smile onto her lips and squeezed Kurtis’s arm. “I appreciate your frankness today, Kurtis. And yes, I will consider it very carefully.”
“Excellent. Then I promise not to take up any more of your time.”
He bid her farewell until tomorrow’s lesson and left her there at the palace entrance, lost in her thoughts.
What just happened?
Cleo’s desire to reclaim what was rightfully hers had not faded at all, and Kurtis Cirillo would make for an interesting ally. If only something about his approach, his naked desire for the throne, hadn’t left such a rancid taste in her mouth.
So, the council hated Magnus. And, if presented with a choice, they would side with Kurtis. If Magnus were to then put up a fight, his life would be in danger.
That had once been her goal—to see the prince dead alongside his father.
Judging by the tight, sick sensation that now roiled in the pit of her stomach, times had certainly changed.
• • •
She returned to the ice gardens later that day, pulling her cloak closer as she explored the grounds, trying to clear her head. Everything around her was covered in a coat of pure white. Even the palace, a black and ominous beast of a structure, appeared muted and gray today, frost covering nearly every inch of its surface. She walked the long icy pathway leading through the gardens, imagining that it was lined with manicured hedges and blooming rose bushes. Perhaps an ivy-covered archway. Full of color and warmth, just like home.
Cleo loved Auranos, of course. But Limeros did have its beauty, too—a cold, untouchable beauty best admired from afar.
Much like the prince himself.
Yet the prince isn’t always cold and untouchable, is he? she thought.
Suddenly, something—a sensation, a small sound . . . she wasn’t sure what—made her pause and turn around.
Someone walked along the pathway behind her, about a hundred paces off. She stood there, transfixed, as the figure drew closer.
Until she could finally make out who it was.
“This is impossible,” she whispered.
When he was about thirty paces away, she started to walk, her legs moving of their own accord, taking her closer to him.
Theon.
Theon Ranus wore brown woolen trousers and a thick black cloak, the hood pushed back to reveal his handsome face. It was a face she’d memorized, a thousand times over. A face that had haunted her. A face she loved.
“H-how? How are you here?” she managed when she knew she was close enough from him to hear her.
He stopped, only an arm’s reach away. “I told you I’d find you and I meant it, princess. I will always find you. Did you doubt me?”
She reached out to him with a trembling hand, and found him solid and warm and real. “But . . . I saw you die! That—that sword pierced straight through your heart. You were gone!”
He grasped her hands in his. “An exiled Watcher found me, just in time. She healed me with a grape seed concoction enchanted with earth magic, but still it took months before I was strong enough to leave. I’ve searched for you ever since, princess. I searched everywhere and, thank the goddess, I’ve finally found you.”
