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His worst fear—that he was so transparent, even to someone as insignificant as Nicolo Cassian—dangled before him, threatening to weaken him to the point of no recovery.
He should just get up and leave without another word, but his limbs had grown heavy and his thoughts were so muddled that they anchored him in place. “This isn’t about who I want,” he countered. “This is about you, wanting Prince Ashur.”
“Shut your mouth,” Nic snapped.
Magnus pushed up from the table so he could look down his nose at the boy. “No, you shut yours. If there’s anyone I want, it’s Lucia. Only Lucia. I’m sure you’ve heard rumors that my lust for my sister controls everything I do, every decision I make.”
A shadow of doubt slid behind Nic’s gaze. “Perhaps I have. But rumors are rumors, and I’ve been watching you. The way you look at Cleo sometimes—”
In a heartbeat, Magnus pulled his sword out and pressed it to Nic’s throat. “You see things that don’t exist,” he hissed.
Fury sparked in Nic’s eyes. “Go ahead and do it. Cut my throat. You may not have known who Theon was when you killed him, but imagine how much more Cleo will hate you if you killed me too. That’s why I know you won’t do it. She’s defended you to me again and again, but I see the truth. I don’t care how many times you save her life or spare mine. What you’ve done, what your family is responsible for, it’s unforgiveable. No matter what I have to do to protect her from you, I’ll do it.”
“So strong, aren’t you? So brave.”
“I’m stronger and braver than you might think. Mark my words, your highness: I will hate you and your father for the rest of eternity. Now kill me or let me leave.”
“It’s only the ale that’s making you brave tonight. You wouldn’t say any of these things to me if you weren’t already drunk.”
Nic pushed the tip of Magnus’s sword away from his throat. “I assure you, I would.”
Nic stood, drank the rest of his tankard, and left the tavern.
CHAPTER 9
JONAS
PAELSIA
Let me see it just once . . .”
“No, Lys,” Jonas said. “Keep your hands to yourself, would you?”
“Come on, don’t be shy.”
“I’m not being shy.” When Lys reached for Jonas’s shirt again, he scooted out of her way. “Stop it.”
She glared at him. “Let me see your wound, you stubborn arse.”
“No.” He focused on the campfire, poking at it with a stick to keep it burning.
“Damn it, Jonas. It’s bad, isn’t it? Worse than you’re letting on.”
He refused to meet her eyes, lest she see right through him to the truth. “I feel fantastic. Never better. Now, let’s rest for a few hours and then we need to keep going. We have a lot of ground to cover before we get to Limeros.”
“Don’t you trust me?”
There was a catch in her voice that he’d never heard before, and it made his heart ache. “Of course I do.” He swallowed hard, past the lump in his throat. “I trust you more than anyone else in the world.”
s gave him a hard look.
“Yes, of course, very well,” the barkeep sputtered. “My best bottle of Paelsian wine. Coming right up.”
He disappeared into a back room, returning almost immediately with a dark green glass bottle roughly etched with the Paelsian symbol of a grapevine. As the barkeep uncorked it, Magnus spared a glance at Nic.
“That’s forbidden.” Nic gestured toward the bottle. “Bad Prince of Blood. Very bad!”
Magnus waved the barkeep away, then took a deep drink from the bottle and allowed himself a moment to enjoy the familiar sweetness as it slid over his tongue.
