Crystal Storm
Page 88
It didn’t take long before Enzo nodded firmly. “Yes, of course I will. We’ll find a ship that will take us to Auranos or wherever else you want to go.”
She nodded, grateful to have his allegiance, if nothing else. “Thank you, Enzo. But I’m not taking a ship anywhere.”
“Where do you want to go?”
It seemed she’d been left with very few options. It was time for her to be strong again. “I want to seek an audience with the empress.”
CHAPTER 25
MAGNUS
PAELSIA
He’d drained two bottles of wine the innkeeper kept on hand. Oddly enough, the wine hadn’t been a Paelsian vintage. It was bitter and dry and left a foul aftertaste in Magnus’s mouth, but it was just as effective as Paelsian wine in dulling his mind and helping him fall asleep.
But not in keeping him asleep. The sound of his door creaking open woke him. He’d been certain he’d locked it. His body felt heavy and far too weary to move, and his mind was too foggy to care who entered his room.
“It’s me,” Cleo whispered.
Magnus’s eyes shot wide open at the sound of her voice, his back to the door.
“What do you want?” he asked tentatively, without turning around to look at her.
“I needed to see you.”
“Can’t it wait until morning?”
“You’re drunk.”
“You’re observant.”
“You want me to leave?”
“No.”
The bed creaked as she slipped into it beside him.
Magnus froze at the sensation of her hand sliding over his side to his chest. “Cleo . . .”
“I don’t want to fight with you,” she murmured into his ear. “I don’t want to leave you. I love you, Magnus. So much.”
His heart twisted. “You said love wasn’t enough to fix this.”
“I was angry. Everyone says horrible things when they’re angry.”
“But Nic . . .”
“I must have hope that he’s alive. He has to be. He knows I’d be furious with him if he let himself be killed. Now look at me, Magnus.”
He finally turned around and was greeted by the sight of her at his side, her beautiful face lit by the sliver of moonlight streaming through the window, her hair like spun gold, her eyes dark and bottomless.
“I need you to do something very important for me,” she said.
“What?”
“Kiss me.”
He almost laughed. “If I kiss you right now, I assure you, I won’t be able to stop.”
“I don’t want you to stop. I don’t want you to ever stop. Whatever happens, Magnus, we’re in this together. I chose you. And I need you. Unless”—she raised a brow—“you’re too drunk and you’d rather I leave.”
His gaze darkened. “Hardly. But the curse . . .”
“The curse is a fantasy, nothing more. Put it out of your mind.”
“Not sure I can.”
“It seems that I must be the one to make the first move tonight . . .” She brushed her lips along the length of his scar, from his cheek to his lips. “Like this.”
“Cleo . . .” he managed as he pulled her into his arms, but suddenly it wasn’t Cleo that Magnus held. He found that he clutched only air and blankets.
He realized with dismay that she’d never been there at all. It had only been a dream.
But it didn’t have to be.
He needed to talk to her, to get her to see reason. She would, he knew she would. And together they would find out the truth about Nic.
Magnus sat up, determined that today would be better than yesterday, but his head felt as if it was ready to explode. He groaned and gripped his temples, doubling over from the pain.
The wine. Paelsian wine had no ill aftereffects on those who drank it. All other inebriants, though . . .
Did others willingly choose to endure pain like this to forget about their problems for a night?
Magnus was furious with himself for giving in to something that had weakened him to this degree, but he had to overcome it. He had to focus on his goals.
He would go after Ashur himself. The Kindred needed to be reclaimed—for himself, for Cleo, for Mytica. And the way he currently felt, anyone who got in his way would die a very painful death.
The inn seemed strangely empty this morning. The princess’s bedroom was vacant, the door open. Magnus’s grandmother was nowhere to be seen, neither in the courtyard nor in the meeting room.
The king, however, was waiting for him at the dining room table, a full breakfast in front of him. The innkeeper’s wife—Magnus hadn’t bothered to learn her name—eyed him nervously as he entered and took a seat.
“Eat something,” the king told him.
Magnus eyed the spread of dried fruit, goat cheese, and freshly baked bread with disgust. The scent of it made him want to vomit.
The thought of any food at all made him nauseous.
“I’ll pass,” Magnus replied. “You look . . . well.”
“I feel well.” The king wore Xanthus’s golden ring on his left index finger. He raised his hand and inspected it. “Hard to believe there’s so much magic in this small piece, enough to restore me to my former self so quickly.”
“How long will it last?”
“Ah, that’s the question, isn’t it?”
“Selia didn’t tell you?”
“I didn’t ask.”
She nodded, grateful to have his allegiance, if nothing else. “Thank you, Enzo. But I’m not taking a ship anywhere.”
“Where do you want to go?”
It seemed she’d been left with very few options. It was time for her to be strong again. “I want to seek an audience with the empress.”
CHAPTER 25
MAGNUS
PAELSIA
He’d drained two bottles of wine the innkeeper kept on hand. Oddly enough, the wine hadn’t been a Paelsian vintage. It was bitter and dry and left a foul aftertaste in Magnus’s mouth, but it was just as effective as Paelsian wine in dulling his mind and helping him fall asleep.
But not in keeping him asleep. The sound of his door creaking open woke him. He’d been certain he’d locked it. His body felt heavy and far too weary to move, and his mind was too foggy to care who entered his room.
“It’s me,” Cleo whispered.
Magnus’s eyes shot wide open at the sound of her voice, his back to the door.
“What do you want?” he asked tentatively, without turning around to look at her.
“I needed to see you.”
“Can’t it wait until morning?”
“You’re drunk.”
“You’re observant.”
“You want me to leave?”
“No.”
The bed creaked as she slipped into it beside him.
Magnus froze at the sensation of her hand sliding over his side to his chest. “Cleo . . .”
“I don’t want to fight with you,” she murmured into his ear. “I don’t want to leave you. I love you, Magnus. So much.”
His heart twisted. “You said love wasn’t enough to fix this.”
“I was angry. Everyone says horrible things when they’re angry.”
“But Nic . . .”
“I must have hope that he’s alive. He has to be. He knows I’d be furious with him if he let himself be killed. Now look at me, Magnus.”
He finally turned around and was greeted by the sight of her at his side, her beautiful face lit by the sliver of moonlight streaming through the window, her hair like spun gold, her eyes dark and bottomless.
“I need you to do something very important for me,” she said.
“What?”
“Kiss me.”
He almost laughed. “If I kiss you right now, I assure you, I won’t be able to stop.”
“I don’t want you to stop. I don’t want you to ever stop. Whatever happens, Magnus, we’re in this together. I chose you. And I need you. Unless”—she raised a brow—“you’re too drunk and you’d rather I leave.”
His gaze darkened. “Hardly. But the curse . . .”
“The curse is a fantasy, nothing more. Put it out of your mind.”
“Not sure I can.”
“It seems that I must be the one to make the first move tonight . . .” She brushed her lips along the length of his scar, from his cheek to his lips. “Like this.”
“Cleo . . .” he managed as he pulled her into his arms, but suddenly it wasn’t Cleo that Magnus held. He found that he clutched only air and blankets.
He realized with dismay that she’d never been there at all. It had only been a dream.
But it didn’t have to be.
He needed to talk to her, to get her to see reason. She would, he knew she would. And together they would find out the truth about Nic.
Magnus sat up, determined that today would be better than yesterday, but his head felt as if it was ready to explode. He groaned and gripped his temples, doubling over from the pain.
The wine. Paelsian wine had no ill aftereffects on those who drank it. All other inebriants, though . . .
Did others willingly choose to endure pain like this to forget about their problems for a night?
Magnus was furious with himself for giving in to something that had weakened him to this degree, but he had to overcome it. He had to focus on his goals.
He would go after Ashur himself. The Kindred needed to be reclaimed—for himself, for Cleo, for Mytica. And the way he currently felt, anyone who got in his way would die a very painful death.
The inn seemed strangely empty this morning. The princess’s bedroom was vacant, the door open. Magnus’s grandmother was nowhere to be seen, neither in the courtyard nor in the meeting room.
The king, however, was waiting for him at the dining room table, a full breakfast in front of him. The innkeeper’s wife—Magnus hadn’t bothered to learn her name—eyed him nervously as he entered and took a seat.
“Eat something,” the king told him.
Magnus eyed the spread of dried fruit, goat cheese, and freshly baked bread with disgust. The scent of it made him want to vomit.
The thought of any food at all made him nauseous.
“I’ll pass,” Magnus replied. “You look . . . well.”
“I feel well.” The king wore Xanthus’s golden ring on his left index finger. He raised his hand and inspected it. “Hard to believe there’s so much magic in this small piece, enough to restore me to my former self so quickly.”
“How long will it last?”
“Ah, that’s the question, isn’t it?”
“Selia didn’t tell you?”
“I didn’t ask.”
