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On top of the hearth, next to another lantern, he found an effigy of the Goddess Cleiona, emblazoned with the symbols for fire and air. That meant that this cottage had at one point been occupied by an Auranian—or a Limerian who was secretly loyal to the Auranian goddess.
trudging through the snow for hours, the horse began to protest by shaking her head and baying with displeasure. She needed water, food, shelter, and rest. So did he.
But he couldn’t stop.
Magnus leaned forward and stroked her mane. “Please keep going. You must. I need you.”
In response, the mare let out a mighty neigh, then bucked and threw Magnus from the saddle. He fell hard to the ground, but immediately scrambled up to his feet. Quickly, he tried to catch her reins, but they slipped through his gloved fingers.
Finally free, the horse galloped off into the distance.
“No!” he yelled after her.
He stared after her bleakly for several long moments of disbelief.
“Yes, wonderful,” he finally muttered. “Here I am, with nothing but a cloak and a thin, useless pair of gloves to keep me from freezing to death out here in the middle of bloody nowhere.”
He started walking, noting the position of the half-moon, which he could occasionally see through sporadic breaks in the clouds. The snow had now risen to his knees, making it impossible to move quickly.
The moon moved behind a heavy cloud, and once more his world was plunged back into darkness. Yet, he continued to move forward.
Another hour. Two, maybe three more after that. He’d lost track of time long ago.
Finally, he slowed to a halt. He hadn’t wanted to admit it, but now he was certain and there was no denying it: he was well and truly lost.
He wondered how the king would choose to end the princess’s life.
Would he be gentle with her, a girl who’d already experienced so much pain? Or would he be cruel, take his time torturing her before finally letting her soul go free?
King Gaius was so afraid of a sixteen-year-old girl that he insisted on having her captured so he could kill her himself.
A girl loved by her people, not only for her beauty, but for her spirit and courage.
Magnus had been cruel to her. Dismissive. Rude, cold, and unsympathetic.
Last night was the cruelest he’d ever been. He’d ransacked her chambers and stolen the earth Kindred while she was out shooting arrows with Kurtis. And then the last thing he said to her was that he never wanted to see her again.
His behavior was unforgivable.
But even then she’d seen past it, had insisted that she saw something more in him.
Magnus wasn’t any different than the king. He, too, was afraid of the princess. Her spirit was so bright, he’d been blinded by it.
And yet, he’d never wanted to close his eyes to block out that light.
“I will kill him if he touches her,” he managed to choke out, his throat raw. “I will tear his heart out.”
To think, not so long ago, Magnus longed to be like his father. Strong, ruthless, decisive. Immune to any form of remorse.
When he’d learned that it was the king who had ordered Queen Althea’s death, Magnus had ached for vengeance. But instead of acting on it, he’d doubted himself at every turn.
He was through doubting himself.
Magnus forced himself back to his feet. Weakly, slowly, he trudged onward, until the cold became so great that, despite his thick winter boots, he couldn’t feel his toes.
So this is how it ends, he thought.
Just as he’d been given perfect clarity about his life, it would be taken away. What a cruel joke.
