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“No,” Kyan said, “but I do feel life here.” He walked around the circumference of the rock, sliding his hand along the moss. “There has to be some sort of force at work to sustain this isolated oasis.”
Lucia’s melancholy had been chased away by this patch of life, flourishing in the midst of so much death. “Perhaps this is what made people believe that the Watchers lived in the mountains.”
eded her, longed for her, ached for her. Not for a single solitary moment had his desire for her ceased.
Cleo broke off the kiss. He immediately started to worry. Was she coming to her senses and now pushing him away? But instead, she just looked at him, her eyes wide and dark in the shadows of the cottage.
He gently took her face between his hands and kissed her again, and a small moan escaped from the back of her throat, a sound that nearly drove him insane.
Cleo slipped his cloak off his shoulders and then pulled at the ties of his shirt to bare his chest. She brushed her lips against his skin, and he grasped her shoulders.
“Cleo . . . please . . .”
“Shh.” She pressed her fingertips to his lips. “Don’t ruin this by talking. We might start arguing again.”
When she smiled then, he knew he was already ruined.
Her lips met his again, and Magnus surrendered any small grasp of control he had left.
He didn’t deserve her; he knew he didn’t. He was the Prince of Blood, the son of a monster, who said and did cruel things. Who preemptively leapt to hurt anyone before they could hurt him first.
But he would show her that he could change.
Magnus could change for her.
She was his princess. No. She was his goddess. With her golden skin and golden hair. She was his light. His life. His everything.
He loved her more than anything else in this world.
Magnus worshipped his beautiful goddess that night, both her body and her soul, before the heat of the blazing hearth, upon the rug bearing the symbol of the kingdom his father had stolen from her.
CHAPTER 32
LUCIA
THE FORBIDDEN MOUNTAINS
The closer Lucia came to the Forbidden Mountains, the more they started to resemble to her an arsenal of obsidian daggers slicing up into the gray sky. But she was accustomed to living amidst intimidating structures. After all, she had grown up in the cold, black Limerian palace.
She refused to be intimidated by the foreboding landscape around her. It would take a lot more than these so-called guardians to scare her away.
But that momentary recollection of her past, of the castle perched atop the cliffs where she’d lived for sixteen years, summoned an unfamiliar—and completely unwelcome—sensation in her.
Homesickness.
After so much time away from her home—first during her time in Auranos, and now on the road with Kyan—she’d finally become so weary that she found herself missing familiarities so banal as her own bed. She missed her attendants and the kind cook who always gave her an extra biscuit, a special treat just for her, with her breakfasts. She missed books, the collection she had at home and the incredible selection she’d only started to discover in the Auranian palace library. She missed her tutors, even the ones who taught the subjects she dreaded, especially drawing, which in Limeros was treated as more of a practical life skill than a fine art. Magnus was the artist in the family, not her.
She missed Magnus.
And most surprisingly of all, she missed her father.
She had to put them, put everything besides the task at hand, out of her mind. There would be no returning to her old life. She’d made her choice long ago, and now she had to stand by it.
Lucia concentrated instead on her surroundings as she and Kyan moved deeper into the mountains. It wasn’t all that cold here, but curiously, she still found herself shivering. She pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders.
Nothing grew here, no grass, no trees. No animals. No life.
No birds flew in the sky. No insects crawled across the dirt.
