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Magnus nodded. “My father wouldn’t have it any other way. Those who show any sign of defiance are . . . disciplined.” It was a rather light word for the punishments Magnus had seen inflicted on palace guards who didn’t give themselves over—body, mind, and soul—to their duties to the kingdom.
“As they should be,” said Kurtis. “Now, I will arrange accommodations for you, your beautiful wife, and her attendant.”
“Yes. I will take my regular chambers. The princess will need separate chambers befitting her position. And Nic can be given . . .” He eyed the boy. “. . . servants’ quarters. Perhaps one of the slightly larger rooms.”
“You’re too kind,” Nic said darkly.
“Separate chambers for husband and wife?” Kurtis said, frowning.
“That is what I said,” Magnus said, a moment before it occurred to him that this might seem a strange request for husband and wife.
“Magnus is kind enough to ask this on my behalf,” Cleo spoke up to ease Kurtis’s confusion. “It’s a long-standing tradition in my family to retain separate chambers for the first year of marriage, both for luck, and also to make our time spent together all the more . . . exciting and unpredictable.” She blushed and cast her gaze downward, as if embarrassed by the admission. “It’s a silly tradition, I know.”
“Not at all,” Magnus said, impressed by the princess’s ready lie.
Kurtis nodded, seemingly satisfied by this explanation. “Very well. I’ll ensure that you’re given exactly what you require.”
“Good.” Magnus returned his attention to the “kingsliege.” “I also need to send some men to the Temple of Valoria immediately. There was a violent, isolated ice storm there last night that killed many. The victims should be buried by midday and the temple restored to its former glory as quickly as possible.”
According to Limerian religious customs, the bodies of the dead must be buried in earth sprinkled with water blessed by a priest within twelve hours of death.
He couldn’t help but glance then at Nic, whose expression had grown pained at the mention of the bodies at the temple. One of those bodies had been that of Prince Ashur—Amara’s brother. Nic and the prince had become close friends before his murder at his devious sister’s hands.
“An ice storm?” Kurtis’s brow was now raised to its highest. “No wonder you all look so disheveled. I’m very grateful to the goddess that you and your wife were spared. You must need rest after enduring such an experience.”
“Rest can wait.”
“Very well.” Kurtis gripped the arms of the throne. “How long do you anticipate we’ll have the honor of your presence before you return to Auranos?”
A dozen guards entered the throne room, momentarily stealing Magnus’s attention. No matter how duty-bound and driven to please Limerian guards were, twelve weren’t nearly enough to make up a search team for his sister.
“I don’t intend to return to Auranos,” Magnus said, turning back to Kurtis.
Kurtis cocked his head. “I don’t quite follow you.”
nted to call Kurtis’s bluff, but the memory of that cat forced his throat closed.
Magnus knew he had no choice. He clasped his left hand down on the right, feeling the tender collapse of the soft wings as he crushed the beautiful, peaceful creature.
Kurtis smirked. “Oh, Magnus. Don’t you know it’s bad luck to kill a summer butterfly?”
“Prince Magnus, you look as if you’ve just returned from a war.” Once again, Kurtis’s voice wrenched Magnus out of the horrible memory.
Quickly, Magnus composed himself, setting a pleasant enough look on his face as he turned around. Kurtis was still incredibly tall—even taller than Magnus by an inch or two. His reddish-brown hair, muddy-green eyes, and pointed features had always reminded Magnus of a weasel.
“Not a war, precisely. But the past several days have been challenging.”
“I can tell. Your arm—”
“I’ll have it tended to very soon, once I get a bit of business out of the way. I’m so pleased to see you’re well, Kurtis. I’d heard a horrible rumor that you weren’t.”
Kurtis smiled that familiar, greasy smile of his and waved his hand dismissively. “Ah, yes, the rumors of my death. I sent along that preposterous story as a hoax to a gullible friend, and he spread the word very quickly. But as you can see, I’m very much alive and well.” Kurtis’s curious gaze shifted to Cleo standing next to Magnus, and then Nic, who had remained near the door next to three guards.
Clearly, he awaited introductions.
Magnus chose to play along for now. “Princess Cleiona Bellos, this is Lord Kurtis Cirillo, Grand Kingsliege of Limeros.”
Cleo nodded as Kurtis took her hand and kissed it. “It’s an honor to meet you,” she said.
