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Magnus didn’t respond, but his jaw tightened. She moved to sit right next to him, and when she placed her hand on top of his, he tensed, but didn’t pull away.
“You love her,” she said.
“More than anything.”
She’d always known this to be true, no matter what had happened between her and Magnus. Still, something inside Cleo twisted unpleasantly at his easy admission. She pushed past it. “And she loves you too,” she said. “But she’s not herself right now. That man, Kyan . . . he’s manipulating her.”
“The man of fire. I’ve heard rumors of him in recent months. I used to think that’s all they were: rumors.” He looked down at Cleo’s hand. “You know, it doesn’t feel like all that long ago that we were sitting in a different temple, having another grave conversation.”
She remembered that night in the City of Gold far too clearly. Her need to align with him was so strong that she thought it might actually be a possibility.
“Rather than always fighting,” she’d said to him, “we could find a way to help each other.”
Since then, Cleo had learned a great deal about the dangers of just letting her true thoughts pour right out of her mouth. Those were the kinds of thoughts that could later be used against her as weapons. “You were drunk that night,” she said, trying to put on a dismissive tone.
“I was. Far too drunk. That was also the night I took Amara to my bed. I found I needed to be with someone much less . . . belligerent than you. It was refreshing, for a while.”
She tried not to react with any of the displeasure she felt about this subject. “We all make harsh errors in judgment.”
“Indeed.” For the first time since she’d entered the temple, his flat, dark eyes met hers directly. “It’s too bad, really. We made an incredible match, Amara and I. Her skills as a lover are beyond compare—even to those of the most coveted courtesan. Perhaps if she’d confided the true reason of her visit to me, I would have shared the Kindred with her.”
Cleo withdrew her hand from his, her blood turning to acid. “I don’t believe you.”
“Really? Is that any less believable than a secret union between you and Jonas Agallon?”
She’d been wrong. His eyes weren’t flat and emotionless; they were full of simmering outrage. “I thought you said you understand why I did that.”
“Understand? Yes. Approve of? No. You have a stunning talent for concealing the truth. I rarely meet a liar as skilled as you are. Congratulations, princess.”
How had it taken her this long to realize that he was furious with her?
“So what?” she said, abandoning all hope of staying diplomatic and diving right into interrogation. “Were you lying too? About this new alliance? About what will happen afterward?”
“Finally, the princess reveals her true intentions, the real reason you’ve come up to me on this day of worship. You’ve no interest in the details of my past at all.”
“Can’t it be both? Why can’t I want information about my future and be curious about your past as well?”
“We’re done here.” He stood up and walked toward the exit, and she hurried after him to block his path.
“No, we’re not done here,” she hissed.
“Answer me this, princess. What exactly is there between you and Agallon? Is it more than a friendly alliance between a princess and a rebel?”
“What do you mean?”
He glared at her as if she were a child purposely avoiding an answer. “Are you in love with him?”
Her mouth dropped open. “What?”
“Under any other circumstances I wouldn’t care, of course. But if the two of you were in love, it would make it much more complicated for the three of us to go forward.”
“You’re insane.”
“A yes or a no would suffice. I’ll take your response as a . . . probably. Good to know, princess. Much gratitude.”
She grabbed his arm and held on tightly.
He glared down his nose at her. “Let go of me.”
