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Amara took time to compose herself in her cabin, and when she went back up to the deck she saw that the ship was approaching the frozen shores of Limeros. Cuddling deeper into the thick fur wrap around her shoulders, she felt that the air seemed even colder than it was the last time she’d been here.
She gazed out at the snow-dusted city. This was where Felix had grown up. Her thoughts had drifted to him many times during this journey—to the ache she’d felt over casting him aside, making him take the blame for her crime.
Just as a stab of guilt begin to gnaw at her, King Gaius approached to her left and stood at the gunwale next to her, holding a piece of parchment.
She straightened her posture and went to his side.
“You look troubled,” she said.
King Gaius looked up at her, surprised, as if he’d just woken from a dream. “I will admit I am a bit troubled.” He indicated the parchment in his hand. “Just before we left the Jewel, I received this message. It’s from an informant at the Limerian palace. I’ve read it many times, but still find its contents difficult to believe.”
“Is it about Magnus? Is the prince enjoying his moment in the sun?”
“Apparently a little too much. If I’m to believe what’s written here, it seems he has met with rebels on several occasions.”
She placed her hand over his. “I’m very sorry to hear that. But I have to say, if it is true, it doesn’t surprise me at all. Your son has already committed treason against you once.”
“He claims good reasons for doing so.”
“Is there ever a good reason to commit treason?”
“You tell me, Empress. Why was it that you poisoned your entire family?”
She’d almost forgotten how sensitive Myticans could be. If she wanted to turn Gaius’s head without him realizing it, she had to remember to use a gentler hand to guide him. “I understand that you’d like to think the best of him,” she said sweetly. “After all, he’s your heir. But more than once he’s made a public display of opposing you, of standing against everything you do. He needs to pay for his crimes.”
“Are you suggesting that I have my only son executed?”
A sharpness sprang into the king’s dark eyes, a warning that her hand had not been nearly gentle enough. “No, of course not. There’s no easy answer here. I’m not suggesting there is. But what I care about most is you. Us. Our future. And if Magnus meets our arrival with force, my guards will not hesitate to fight back. I want a peaceful transition as much as you do, but if the Limerian palace rises up, blood will be spilled.”
“Peaceful,” he repeated, then gave her a dour smile. “There are many words your name brings to mind, Amara, but ‘peaceful’ isn’t one of them.”
“Why not?” she said, indignant. “Why would I want to damage the newest jewel in Kraeshia’s crown?”
“Why did you call for twenty ships to follow us, to dock at every Mytican port—to ensure we’re met with no resistance?”
“Because I’m careful, that’s why. Besides, you already agreed to this.”
He sighed. “Yes, I did. I know we need to account for and control insurgents.”
The tension in Amara’s neck dissipated, and she finally allowed herself to relax. “Perhaps your homecoming will make Magnus see that all of this is for the best. That being a part of Kraeshia can only make Mytica stronger.”
“I used to have no doubt that my son would come around, that we would see eye to eye again, that he would one day take on his responsibilities as my heir with honor and pride. But one persistent problem has trampled that belief.” Gaius paused, narrowing his eyes at the Limerian shore. “Cleiona Bellos. From the moment that scheming little creature came into our lives, it seems there’s been an impassable rift between my son and me. I raised him to be great, but she has managed to corrupt him. I was blind not to see it before, but I’m not anymore. He loves her.” His knuckles whitened on the railing.
“He may love her, but does she love him?” she reasoned. “After all that’s happened to her former kingdom, how could she ever see him as anything but her enemy?”
“It doesn’t matter whether or not she loves him in return. Unrequited love is still love.” He shook his head. “As I grow older, I’m beginning to understand my mother’s choices more and more. I don’t forgive them, but I understand. My son doesn’t realize how very much he is like me.”
Now Amara’s curiosity was sharply piqued. “In what ways?” she asked.
He didn’t reply.
She frowned, still hoping to coax more information out of him. “Do you mean to say that . . . you once loved someone in the way you believe Magnus loves Cleo?”
The king mouth had fallen to a grim line. “Never mind. It was a very long time ago. Meaningless now.”
“Was it . . . are you thinking of Althea?” Amara had never met the former queen, but she’d seen her stern portrait in the hallways of the Limerian palace.
“No. Not Althea.” Gaius stared down again at the parchment. Just when Amara thought he was done opening up for the day, he started speaking again, an almost pitifully wistful tone in his voice. “When I was a young man, even younger than Magnus, I took a trip overseas. I met a girl. A beautiful, challenging, frustrating girl. We sparred, we argued, we discussed every topic imaginable, and she quickly became my entire world. I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her, I was sure of it. But my mother had other plans for me—plans that didn’t take into account my utter devotion to another. ‘Love is weakness,’ she told me. ‘And it must be destroyed, or else deceptive, dangerous creatures will exploit that weakness for their own gain.’”
