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Cleo grabbed the bow and arrows and ran as fast as she could through the deep snow and into the woods.
CHAPTER 31
MAGNUS
LIMEROS
Magnus had visited Lord Gareth’s castle only once before, but he was certain he remembered the way. He couldn’t access the palace stables, so he ran to the nearest village and stole the first horse he came across—a gray mare likely used only for short trips and errands.
She would do. She had to.
His destination was nearly a half-day’s journey northeast, and the snow was only falling more steadily and thickly as the sun set behind the dark gray clouds and day became night.
Soon the storm grew so strong that the roads and pathways had become completely obliterated by the snow. Magnus had lost his way, couldn’t recognize a single checkpoint, and now had to go by instinct alone.
o;I’m not so sure,” Amara said, a knowing smile playing at her lips. She leaned forward. “Cleo, we could put our pasts behind us. We could work together, secretly, to help prevent any man from trying to steal our power.”
“Our power?”
“My grandmother is old, my father and brothers are dead. I have no friends, no allies I can trust. You’ve been through so much tragedy and loss that I know it’s changed you. Like me, you are beautiful on the outside, but your soul is forged from steel.”
Cleo frowned, feeling more skeptical with every compliment Amara spoke. “You’d put your trust in me so easily?”
“Absolutely not. That kind of trust needs to be earned—on both sides. I know that. But I see enough of me in you that I’m willing to take this risk.” Amara extended her hand. “So what do you say?”
Cleo stared down at Amara’s bejeweled hand for a long moment before she finally grasped it. “I’d say that the future looks much brighter than it did this morning.”
“Excellent.” Amara smiled, then turned to gaze out of the window. “When Gaius wakes, I’ll speak to him. I doubt very much that he’ll put up much of an argument before he agrees to keep you alive. After all, he sees you the same way he sees me: as an object to possess and control.”
“His mistake, isn’t it?”
“It certainly is.”
Cleo picked up the bottle, poured more wine into her goblet, and swallowed it down.
Then she smashed the bottle over the empress’s head.
Align with the most devious, untrustworthy, murderous girl she’d ever met in her entire life?
Never.
Stunned, Amara crumpled to the floor.
Cleo rushed toward the door and pressed her ear against it. She heard nothing. The crash of glass and thump of Amara’s body hadn’t drawn the suspicion of any guards.
Still, she knew she didn’t have much time, and if she tried to escape through the castle she’d surely be captured.
Sidestepping the fallen empress, Cleo unlatched and pushed the window open again. A draft of cold air and snow blew into the room.
Was she ready to take this risk?
“Think,” she whispered.
She leaned over the windowsill and looked down at the side of the building and saw something she hadn’t seen before: a frost-covered trellis, partially hidden under the snow.
A memory came to her, of a time not so long ago, when all was well in the City of Gold and Cleo’s biggest problem was having an overprotective king for a father and an overachieving heiress for a sister. Cleo had always craved freedom, had hated being cooped up in the palace.
She was with Emilia in her chambers when she noticed the vine- and flower-covered trellis alongside her sister’s balcony.
