“So the Kindred were never found,” Cleo said.
“Not to this day. Although many believe that they’re only a myth. That the Watchers are merely legend—stories told through the years with no basis in fact.”
“You said you believe in magic. But do you believe in these stories?” she asked.
Eirene poured more wine for Nic and herself. “With all my heart.”
Cleo head swam from everything she’d been told. “The Watchers search for the Kindred. Isn’t it said that they see through the eyes of birds?”
“Hawks, to be precise.” Eirene nodded. “They can take the form of hawks. They seek to find the Kindred and return it to the Sanctuary. If they ever leave other than in bird form, in these spirit journeys, they cannot return. The Sanctuary is closed off from the rest of the world. It exists on a different plane from this one. And all except a trace of magic has stayed with them—but it’s said to be dying off. The longer they go without having the Kindred in their possession, the more their world fades. Just as this one does.”
“Do you think it’s related?” Nic asked.
Eirene’s expression was grim. “Most definitely.”
“I just like the love story part,” Sera said. “The rest is kind of hard to believe, if you ask me. Grandmother, I promised a couple friends that I would meet them at the tavern. Do you mind if I go out?”
“No, go ahead.”
After bidding them farewell, Sera grabbed a cloak and walked out of the cottage, leaving the three of them alone.
“I must admit, I’m surprised that you’re not more outraged at the suggestion that your beloved goddess Valoria from Limeros is a corrupted Watcher,” Eirene said.
Cleo and Nic exchanged a look.
“We have very open minds,” Nic replied. “Although it’s a surprise that she could be as evil as you say she was.”
“I never said she was evil. Nor was she good. Even in the darkest and most cruel person, there is still a kernel of good. And within the most perfect champion, there is also darkness. The question is, will one give in to the dark or the light? It’s something we decide with every choice we make, every day that we exist. What might not be evil to you could be evil to someone else. Knowing this makes us powerful even without magic.”
“Other Watchers leave the Sanctuary.” Cleo slid her index finger around the edge of her empty glass. “They can never return. But it’s happened.”
“So the rumors go.”
“Do they keep their magic? Could a Watcher who holds healing seeds infused with earth magic really exist?”
“You have such hope for this that I would hate to say no.” Eirene smiled and reached across the table to squeeze Cleo’s hand. “You must continue to believe with all your heart. Sometimes belief is all it takes to make something real.”
“I believe I would like to go to sleep very soon,” Nic said.
Her smile widened. “An excellent suggestion, young man.”
With the story and the meal over, Eirene prepared beds on the floor by the hearth for both Nic and Cleo. She snuffed out the candles, pulled the canvas covering across the window for privacy, and bid them good night.
Cleo settled down onto the thin straw mattress and stared up at the dark ceiling.
And though her thoughts first turned unbidden to Theon and what he might be doing, when she fell asleep, she dreamed of sorceresses and goddesses and magic seeds.
“I had to escape,” Sera said later at the tavern. With its dirt floors and dirty glasses, it wasn’t much and wasn’t large enough to accommodate more than a couple dozen, but it served its purpose. It was a place for the work weary to find a cheap drink and some company.
“Really. Why’s that?”
A smile played on the lips that half the boys in a ten-mile radius were well acquainted with. “My grandmother’s taken in a couple of strays for the night. Had to suffer through her stories again. Immediately thought of you when they were introduced to me. The girl’s name is Cleo—just like that hateful princess. I’ve never known anyone else with that name.”
Jonas stared with shock at the girl seated next to him at the small wooden table in a darkened corner of the tavern. He’d never heard of anyone else with that name either. “What did she look like?”
“Looked like a princess, if you ask me. Blue eyes. Fair hair. Around my age. Pretty thing, I suppose.” Sera twisted a piece of dark brown hair between her fingers.
“You said her name was Cleo.”
“That’s right.”
Blondes weren’t that common in Paelsia. They weren’t common anywhere, really, but there were still a few, more often from northern Limeros. Jonas remembered Cleo’s hair, bright as the sun, long and flowing down her slim body.
He’d dreamed of tearing that hair out a piece at a time while she begged for mercy.
Jonas cast a glance to the other side of the tavern to see Brion sitting by the warmth of the fire, his eyes already closing. They’d been busy for days scouting and had stopped for a nightcap before spending the night at his sister Felicia’s and her husband’s, a short distance outside of the village. Chief Basilius’s men were way ahead of them. All eligible men—and boys—on the west coast had been signed up to join the Paelsian army. In their travels, they’d found no sign of any troublemakers or spies. Unless this girl Sera, whom Jonas knew casually from his visits to Felicia and Paulo, spoke of was the Auranian princess herself.
“Maybe I’ll tell you more later.” Sera boldly scooted her chair closer so she could slide her hand down Jonas’s chest and over his abdomen. He grabbed her wrist and she flinched.
“Tell me now.”
“You’re hurting me.”
“No, I’m not. Don’t exaggerate.”
She bit her bottom lip and looked coyly at him, her feigned distress forgotten. “Maybe we should go somewhere a bit more private where we can discuss anything you like.”
“Not tonight.” He wasn’t the least bit interested in going anywhere private with her tonight or any other night. No, he was only supposed to have private time these days with Laelia, a girl he was already tired of spending time with. But until everything worked out with the chief and Jonas’s hope for a successful rebellion against Auranos, he thought it best not to end things between him and the snake dancer. It might backfire on both himself and Brion if they offended Chief Basilius’s daughter. Being kicked out of the chief’s trusted circle would be the least of their worries then.
“You said this Cleo girl is at your grandmother’s cottage?” Jonas said very quietly and very firmly.
“That’s what I said,” she replied, now sullen. “She and her friend are staying there overnight.”
“This is impossible.” He let go of her completely. “She wouldn’t be stupid enough to show her face around here.”
“You don’t think it’s actually the princess, do you? She didn’t act much like a princess.”
If the blonde was Cleo—and he had a sickly gut feeling that it was—then she had a specific reason for being here. But what was it? Was she a spy for her father? He’d seen intelligence and cunning in her eyes that fateful day at the market, an ugly maliciousness that betrayed her outward beauty. He wouldn’t underestimate her. “Who is she with?”
“Some boy named Nicolo. He seemed harmless.”
He relaxed by a fraction. If Sera had said that she was here with Lord Aron, he wouldn’t have been able to control his rage a moment longer.
Jonas’s jaw was so tight that it made it difficult to speak. He pushed back from the table and got to his feet. “Thank you for telling me this, Sera.”
“You’re leaving? So soon? Just because this girl might really be Princess Cleo?”
Jonas flinched as if his brother’s death had happened only minutes ago rather than over two months. His grief was as
raw and bloody as it had been that very first day.
Revenge. That’s what he’d wanted. But now with his newfound association with Chief Basilius, he wasn’t sure that was the best course of action. He needed to talk to the chief and find out what to do next. By horse, the chief’s compound was only a two-hour ride away.
He glanced over at Brion. His one hard-earned mug of dark ale sat untouched while he slept, his face lit by the crackling fire.
Jonas would let him have his rest. He’d go and see the chief alone. Only then would he decide what the princess’s ultimate fate would be.
Magnus stood on the balcony of his chambers, staring off into the darkness. He’d stayed in his room tonight, opting to take dinner there instead of trying to deal with his family downstairs. He still didn’t think he could look his father in the eye after their private conversation earlier that week.
There was a knock at his door and he moved off the balcony toward it, certain it would be Amia come to pay him a visit. He wasn’t sure if he was in the mood to appreciate the maid’s particular talents tonight, no matter how enthusiastic she might be.
But it wasn’t Amia.
“Magnus.” Sabina leaned against the edge of the doorway when he opened it. “Good evening.”
“Good evening,” he said without any feeling. This was a surprise. Sabina had never knocked on his door before. After what he’d learned about her from his father, he watched her warily, but with interest.
Everyone had secrets.
“Everything all right?” she asked. “I was worried when you didn’t come down for dinner tonight.”
“I’m fine. Thank you for your concern.”
“I wondered if I might speak with you.”
“About what?”
“A private matter.”
He tensed. Sabina and the king were such close confidants that he worried what this might entail. However, he didn’t think he could refuse. He was certain she wouldn’t be deterred if he simply tried to ignore her.
“Of course.” He opened the door wider. “Please come in.”
She did, her silky red dress hugging her body. He’d have to be blind not to notice her beauty. While his mother, the queen, was quite plain and showed her age with every passing year, Sabina looked the same as he ever remembered. Tall, willowy, with long dark hair and amber-colored eyes. Her lips were always turned up in a smile that never looked entirely friendly.
“Close the door,” she said.
With only the slightest hesitation, he did as requested.
She moved toward the window, trailing her fingertips over each piece of furniture she passed including the wooden posts at the foot of his bed, each carved to resemble a serpent. “Goodness, it’s cold in here. You should close your window and have someone light a fire.”
“Perhaps later. What do you want to talk about?” If he could move this along, he’d be happy. If Amia wasn’t going to stop by tonight, he’d rather spend the rest of the evening alone.
Sabina slowly turned to look at him. “The king told me about the conversation you had together.”
He couldn’t find his breath for a moment before he managed to shift his invisible mask of indifference back into place. “Is that so?”
“Yes.”
“He’s very sharing.”
“He can be when he’s in the right mood.” She smiled at him. “So you know.”
Magnus weighed his words before speaking. “Can you be more specific? I know lots of things.”
“Not that many. Just enough to cause trouble. But I think we can trust you, can’t we?”
“With what?”
“Don’t be coy, Magnus. It doesn’t suit you. With the secret about Lucia, of course. Of the prophecy of her being a sorceress. Of the magic that I’m sure she’s already shown to her trusted brother.”
He looked at her sharply. “You’re mistaken. She’s shown me nothing of the sort.”
She laughed. “Oh, Magnus, you do amuse me. Sometimes I find it hard to believe that you’re Gaius’s son. The resemblance is uncanny, of course, but you have a much softer heart. Especially when it comes to your sister.”
He knew she meant this not as an asset, but as a fault. “It’s not nearly as soft as you might think.”
“Isn’t it? But perhaps a heart takes experience and time to harden. When you will not flinch to learn shocking truths. I hope to be here when that happens. I think you have the potential for greatness, even if you don’t believe it yourself.”
He’d rarely noticed before how much he utterly disliked this woman.
“Thank you for your opinion, Sabina. Now, what exactly was it you wanted to see me about? Or was it just to rehash part of my conversation with Father that, really, is none of your business?”
“I thought I’d come for a visit. We so rarely get to spend any time alone together.”
“Ah,” he said blandly. “And I so enjoy your company.”
She watched him with that predatory look he’d noticed her give other people when they weren’t watching. She was the most intimidating woman he’d ever known. Her dead husband, on the other hand, had been the kindest man who had ever stepped foot inside the palace. But he’d always had a look on his face as if he constantly expected someone to strike him. Perhaps his wife.
Magnus hoped very much that he didn’t share the same look. Those who appeared to be victims were always the easiest to victimize.
“You know, without that scar, you’d be a flawlessly handsome young man.” Sabina cast a leisurely glance over him. “Even with it, you’re still very attractive.”
He absently brushed his fingertips against his scar. “I appreciate the compliment,” he lied.
“Aren’t you going to compliment me in return?”
“I grow weary of games, Sabina. Either get to the point or leave.” He gave her a piercing look. “Unless you want to demonstrate your magic. My father said you’re a witch, but I’ve never met a real witch before and I must say I’m curious.”
“A real witch would never blatantly use her powers in the open for anyone to see. That would be risking exposure to those who might mean her harm.”
“I suppose you’re right.”
“You’d best tell Lucia the same thing.”
His chest tightened. “My father believes she’s a sorceress, but I’ve seen no evidence of anything unusual.”
“Are you sure?” Sabina eyed him with open amusement. “I think you’re lying.”
“I’m not. What I am sure about is that I’d like you to leave my chambers.” He forced a smile. “If you please.”
“Am I making you uncomfortable?”
“Not at all. But I’m tired and I wish to sleep.”
That annoyingly amused look remained on her face. It was as if nothing he said had any effect on her. “I like you, Magnus.”
“I’m deeply honored,” he said drily.
She moved closer to him, sweeping her gaze over his tall frame from head to toe and then slowly back up again. “Your father has become obsessed with this drive to conquer Auranos. He hasn’t had much time for me lately, except to seek guidance on certain decisions. He’s spent today organizing a meeting in Auranos with Chief Basilius and King Corvin himself to discuss matters before they escalate.”
“He’s a busy man.”
“I grow lonely.” Again she walked slowly around him. Her gaze felt weighted and uncomfortable. “And I know that you’re also lonely. You haven’t yet chosen a future bride, even though you’re only weeks from turning eighteen. And you spend so very much time all by yourself. Whatever do you do with your days and nights, Magnus?”
“Nothing that would interest you.”
“I know you enjoy the attentions of a pretty kitchen maid, don’t you? But she’s t
he only one I’m aware of. I don’t believe for one moment that you’re interested in such a girl as anything more than a short and meaningless distraction.”
He hated that she knew so much about him. “It might be meaningless, but it’s not always short.”
He tensed when he felt her hand brush over his back, trailing across to his shoulders as she circled him. “You are very nearly a man. And a very fine man at that. A bit soft around the edges still, but I think the right handling would help sharpen your edge. You could become a fine weapon in many ways.”
Magnus stared at her, unclear about her meaning. But not all that unclear. “What are you suggesting?”
“The same thing that I suggested to your father when he was not much older than you. I’m offering myself to you as a lover.”
“Is that so?” His words were measured, quiet.
“Yes.”
“You’re old enough to be my mother.”
This finally helped her smile to slip at the edges. “Age can be an asset, Magnus. With age comes experience. You are young and, apart from that maid and perhaps a handful of other meaningless girls, you have no experience.”
“You have no idea how much experience I have.”
“Not nearly enough. It’s clear in every move you make. You want to feel wanted. Needed. Desired.” She trailed her fingertips over his chest. “I can make you feel those things.”
Magnus couldn’t believe this was actually happening.
“And what does my father have to say about this offer of yours?”
“Gaius doesn’t know, of course. Nor does he need to know.”
“Sharing a mistress with my father doesn’t sound like a very good way to help strengthen our father-son bond.”
“As if you’ve ever cared about any father-son bond.”
He shrugged noncommittally. “Maybe I do now.”
“This is why I came to see you tonight. To offer you this. To offer you myself. I can stay with you tonight if you’d like. Gaius won’t know where I’ve gone. And I promise I can make you forget any problem that you might think you have.” She went up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips against his.