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“Would you prefer I argue?”
“No, but I . . .” When one has gotten what they want, one should stop speaking. Cleo’s father used to say that to her whenever she’d continue to make her case for something he’d already relented to. “Thank you,” she said now, as sweetly as she could.
“Now if you’ll excuse me, I must wash the scent of horses from myself. Wouldn’t want to offend anyone else with my stench.” Again, he turned toward the door.
Stop being a weak little fool, she told herself. “I’m not finished.”
His shoulders tensed. “Oh?”
Her teeth had begun to chatter from the cold, but she refused to go back inside yet. “The message you sent to your father. What did it say? You didn’t tell me.”
He blinked. “Should I have?”
“It concerns me as well, doesn’t it? I’m the one whom you helped escape execution. So, yes, you should have told me. What are his plans? Will he come here? Are we safe?”
He leaned against the balcony doors and crossed his arms. “We, princess, are mostly certainly not safe. I told my father that I’d learned you had specific information on Lucia’s whereabouts. I wrote that Cronus was so steadfastly loyal to the king’s commands that he refused to delay your execution until after I could get this information out of you. So I took matters into my own hands.”
Cleo exhaled the breath she was holding during this entire speech. “And has he replied?”
A shallow nod. “I received a new message this morning. Apparently he’s traveling abroad, and he looks forward to seeing me again upon his return.”
“That’s it? So he believes you?”
“I wouldn’t say that. His reply could mean anything—or nothing. After all, he knows that messages sent by raven aren’t exactly guaranteed to stay private. But I plan to stick to the story I’ve told until my last breath. If I can convince him that I only acted out of love for my sister, he may be lenient with me.”
“And with me?”
“That remains to be seen.”
Cleo hadn’t expected him to make any promises to keep her safe and alive, so she wasn’t surprised when he didn’t. His silence was just more proof that the boy she’d seen intimidating and humiliating Kurtis was the real Magnus.
“Now, let me ask you a question, princess,” Magnus said, locking gazes with her. He drew so close to her that they were nearly touching and she moved backward until her spine was pressed up against the balcony railing.
“What?” She tried to inject the single word with as much defiance as possible.
“Have you managed to send word to Jonas Agallon and his trusty rebels informing him of your current whereabouts? Perhaps he can chase after Amara and bring you back the water Kindred.”
The name Jonas Agallon was a sharp slap back to cold reality.
Cleo pressed her hands against Magnus’s chest and pushed. “Step away from me,” she hissed.
“Did I strike a nerve? Apologies, but some subjects need to be addressed—even if they prove unpleasant to you.”
“I’ve already told you that I don’t and have never had anything to do with Jonas Agallon and his followers.” The belief that she’d colluded with rebels was what had led to her imprisonment and the king’s command for her immediate execution.
But it was the truth of course—she had conspired with him. But she’d never admit that out loud. Especially not to Magnus.
“Well, regardless, might I suggest Jonas as an archery tutor instead of Kurtis? Kurtis is skilled in the sport, I suppose, but Jonas—now there’s someone who’s killed Auranians and Limerians alike with his arrows, while Kurtis has only aimed at painted targets.”
“Kurtis will do nicely, but thank you for your opinion.” She shoved past him, then glanced over her shoulder as she left the balcony. “Good day, Magnus.”
He watched her leave the balcony with narrowed eyes. “Good day, princess.”
CHAPTER 4
LUCIA
PAELSIA
