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Several days later, Enzo arrived at his door. “They’re ready, your highness.”
Magnus nodded at the guard and rose from the table piled high with parchment. He was grateful for the chance to have a bit of respite from the monotony of staring at endless lines of small, cramped cursive for hours, by candlelight, trying to master each and every detail of each and every law of his land.
Enzo escorted him to the northwest tower, where the king kept cold quarters for high-profile prisoners who were too valuable to throw in the dungeon with the common thieves and criminals. The walls were coated with a thin layer of ice, but the guards were under orders to ensure that the temperature stayed bearable.
At the top of the narrow spiral staircase, Magnus stepped into a small, circular room to greet the tower’s two newest inhabitants.
“Welcome back.”
Two pairs of eyes stared back at him, one flashing with hatred, the other with pure emptiness. There was Nic, straining against the chains that held his arms above his head. Locked up right across from him was Jonas, who hung slack in his shackles.
“Why do you have us chained up like thieves?” snarled Nic. “Where is Cleo? I want to see Cleo!”
Magnus moved closer to him. “You’re chained up like a thief, dear Nicolo, because when I pledge a partnership with someone, I assume a certain level of trust going forward. I don’t leave in the night, without any word or hint at where I’m going. What you did is unacceptable. As far as I knew, you were off gathering an army to help overthrow me.”
“What an inspired idea. Wish I’d thought of it myself.”
“You still don’t think very much of me, do you, Cassian?” Magnus smiled and patted Nic’s cheek.
“You don’t want to know what I think of you.” Nic growled. “I need to see Cleo.”
“And I need you to tell me what you’ve been up to this last week so that we can all be friends again. Then again, it has been a while since I’ve seen an execution. That last one was quite entertaining. Remember, Agallon? It was very . . . explosive, no?”
Jonas neither responded nor moved.
Given the rebel’s usual defiance, his silence was unnerving to Magnus.
“We were acquiring a gift for the princess,” Nic said. “It takes time and effort to find something worthy.”
“I’d rather hear it from Agallon.” Magnus grasped the rebel’s chin and raised his face up, expecting Jonas to spit in his face. Instead, Jonas simply stared straight forward, his eyes glazed over and dull.
“What’s wrong with you?” Magnus frowned and flicked a glance at Nic. “Is he drunk?”
Nic’s expression had grown haunted. “No.”
Magnus let go of Jonas and walked a slow circle around the two prisoners. “Leave us,” he said to the guards.
The guards bowed and left, closing the door behind them.
“Where are the two girls you were traveling with? Lysandra and Olivia?” Magnus asked. Jonas and Nic had returned to the palace grounds alone.
“Olivia’s gone. And Lys . . .” Nic swallowed hard. “Lysandra’s dead.”
Jonas flinched, as if someone had cracked a whip against his back.
Magnus was silent for a moment, trying to process the shock and strange sensation of dread that came with this news. “How?” he asked.
Finally, Jonas rasped out: “Your sorceress sister.”
Magnus’s breath caught in his chest. “Lucia? You’ve seen Lucia?”
he kingsliege motioned toward a target twenty paces in front of them. Cleo nodded with confidence before expertly notching an arrow in her bow.
She drew back the string, aimed, and—
Magnus held his breath.
—the arrow flew straight up into the sky, as if she’d been targeting a cloud. It landed only a few paces away from her, burying itself in the snowy ground.
