Falling Kingdoms
Page 72
His mother had long since stopped telling him such amusing stories. Along with Limeros’s climate, her personality had steadily grown colder over the years. The warmer moments now were barely noticeable.
“Mother,” he said, casting a glance at the swirling white-crested water crashing to the rocks far below.
“I was about to look for you. There’s a message waiting for you from your father delivered earlier by falcon.” Her long gray hair was loose and swept back by the cold wind from her aging face. She wore a full cloak and her normally pale cheeks were bright with color from the chill.
He got right to the point. “Did Sabina Mallius steal Lucia from her cradle in Paelsia and bring her here for you to raise as your daughter?” he asked.
Her gaze snapped to his. “What?”
“You heard me.”
Her mouth worked, but no words emerged for several moments. “Why would you think such a thing?”
“Because Sabina told me so herself before Lucia set her on fire.” He tried to enunciate his next words so there would be no misunderstandings. “Lucia is not my blood sister. Is this correct?”
“Magnus, my darling—”
“Don’t Magnus, my darling me. The truth is all I seek from you today, Mother. If that’s even possible. It’s a simple answer—yes or no. Is Lucia my sister?”
The queen’s expression filled with anxiety. “She is your sister is all ways but blood. As she is my daughter.”
He had his answer. And it was as if the world quaked beneath his feet.
“But not from your womb.”
She did not reply to this.
Magnus’s heart pounded hard. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”
“Because it’s not important. This is how your father wanted it to be. Perhaps he planned to tell you the truth eventually, but it was not my place to do so.”
He laughed, a sound as sharp as the edge of a sword. “No, of course not. If he said for you to raise her as your own, that’s what you must do. I wonder sometimes, Mother, if you also fear the king’s wrath. Or if you were one of the few that managed to escape it.”
“As king, your father only does what he must.”
Magnus once loved his mother, but as she sat back and allowed the king to heap abuse upon him—both physical and verbal—this love had greatly faded.
“You can’t tell her. Not yet.” Her voice was heavy with worry. “She’s a sensitive girl. She wouldn’t understand.”
“If that’s what you think of Lucia, it only proves just how little you know her. No, the girl you raised as my sister may not share my blood, but she is a Damora. With that label, any sensitivity must be burned away as soon as possible if one wishes to survive. And Lucia now has the ability to burn many things away should she choose to.”
“I only did what I had to do.”
“Of course.” Magnus turned from her and began to walk away, leaving her standing at the edge of the cliff all alone. He had the answer he sought. The was no reason for further conversation. “As we all must.”
He went into the castle to find the message delivered from the king. It was written by his father’s own hand, which meant it was too confidential to trust to a servant. Magnus read the message twice through.
Princess Cleiona from Auranos had been captured while traveling through Paelsia and was being detained there. The king instructed Magnus to take two men with him to retrieve the princess and escort her back to Limeros. The king stressed it was an important assignment he was trusting his son with, one that could turn the negotiations with King Corvin to Limeros’s favor.
While unwritten, it was clear to Magnus that his father meant to threaten the girl’s life in pursuit of his own goals. It was to be expected from the King of Blood. This possibility didn’t trouble him. In fact, he was surprised that King Gaius hadn’t thought to send men directly into Auranos weeks ago to kidnap the girl from her own bed if it would mean an easier way for him to get his hands on King Corvin’s land and gain more power for his kingdom.
His first inclination was to turn his back on this and sulk, waiting for his father to return so they could have it out about truths left unspoken.
But this was a test he couldn’t ignore.
Magnus, no matter what, didn’t want to lose his claim to the throne on the off chance the king claimed another bastard as his rightful son. The possibility that King Gaius might have eventually meant to do this with Tobias had never been spoken between them, but it hung in the air like the foul odor of a cesspit.
The trip to and from Paelsia, to the location noted at the bottom of the message, would take four days. Four days to prove his worth to his deceptive and manipulative father.
Unlike the answer he’d demanded from his mother, this question didn’t have two possible answers. It only had one.
King Corvin was nothing like Jonas expected him to be.
Paelsians widely believed him to be a devious and manipulative man who ignored their squalor while those in Auranos lived lavishly and opulently, with no heed to how much they spent or how much they wasted. Jonas had hated King Corvin before he ever laid eyes on him.
The king was a formidable-looking man. He was tall, with heavy muscle like a knight slightly past his prime. His light brown hair, peppered with gray, hung to his shoulders; his beard was short and well groomed. His blue-green eyes were keen and sharp—and, Jonas couldn’t help but note, the exact same color as the princess’s. At first glance, and despite his glittering palace inlaid with actual gold, King Corvin didn’t look like a man who encouraged hedonism and self-indulgence in his people.
“Mother,” he said, casting a glance at the swirling white-crested water crashing to the rocks far below.
“I was about to look for you. There’s a message waiting for you from your father delivered earlier by falcon.” Her long gray hair was loose and swept back by the cold wind from her aging face. She wore a full cloak and her normally pale cheeks were bright with color from the chill.
He got right to the point. “Did Sabina Mallius steal Lucia from her cradle in Paelsia and bring her here for you to raise as your daughter?” he asked.
Her gaze snapped to his. “What?”
“You heard me.”
Her mouth worked, but no words emerged for several moments. “Why would you think such a thing?”
“Because Sabina told me so herself before Lucia set her on fire.” He tried to enunciate his next words so there would be no misunderstandings. “Lucia is not my blood sister. Is this correct?”
“Magnus, my darling—”
“Don’t Magnus, my darling me. The truth is all I seek from you today, Mother. If that’s even possible. It’s a simple answer—yes or no. Is Lucia my sister?”
The queen’s expression filled with anxiety. “She is your sister is all ways but blood. As she is my daughter.”
He had his answer. And it was as if the world quaked beneath his feet.
“But not from your womb.”
She did not reply to this.
Magnus’s heart pounded hard. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”
“Because it’s not important. This is how your father wanted it to be. Perhaps he planned to tell you the truth eventually, but it was not my place to do so.”
He laughed, a sound as sharp as the edge of a sword. “No, of course not. If he said for you to raise her as your own, that’s what you must do. I wonder sometimes, Mother, if you also fear the king’s wrath. Or if you were one of the few that managed to escape it.”
“As king, your father only does what he must.”
Magnus once loved his mother, but as she sat back and allowed the king to heap abuse upon him—both physical and verbal—this love had greatly faded.
“You can’t tell her. Not yet.” Her voice was heavy with worry. “She’s a sensitive girl. She wouldn’t understand.”
“If that’s what you think of Lucia, it only proves just how little you know her. No, the girl you raised as my sister may not share my blood, but she is a Damora. With that label, any sensitivity must be burned away as soon as possible if one wishes to survive. And Lucia now has the ability to burn many things away should she choose to.”
“I only did what I had to do.”
“Of course.” Magnus turned from her and began to walk away, leaving her standing at the edge of the cliff all alone. He had the answer he sought. The was no reason for further conversation. “As we all must.”
He went into the castle to find the message delivered from the king. It was written by his father’s own hand, which meant it was too confidential to trust to a servant. Magnus read the message twice through.
Princess Cleiona from Auranos had been captured while traveling through Paelsia and was being detained there. The king instructed Magnus to take two men with him to retrieve the princess and escort her back to Limeros. The king stressed it was an important assignment he was trusting his son with, one that could turn the negotiations with King Corvin to Limeros’s favor.
While unwritten, it was clear to Magnus that his father meant to threaten the girl’s life in pursuit of his own goals. It was to be expected from the King of Blood. This possibility didn’t trouble him. In fact, he was surprised that King Gaius hadn’t thought to send men directly into Auranos weeks ago to kidnap the girl from her own bed if it would mean an easier way for him to get his hands on King Corvin’s land and gain more power for his kingdom.
His first inclination was to turn his back on this and sulk, waiting for his father to return so they could have it out about truths left unspoken.
But this was a test he couldn’t ignore.
Magnus, no matter what, didn’t want to lose his claim to the throne on the off chance the king claimed another bastard as his rightful son. The possibility that King Gaius might have eventually meant to do this with Tobias had never been spoken between them, but it hung in the air like the foul odor of a cesspit.
The trip to and from Paelsia, to the location noted at the bottom of the message, would take four days. Four days to prove his worth to his deceptive and manipulative father.
Unlike the answer he’d demanded from his mother, this question didn’t have two possible answers. It only had one.
King Corvin was nothing like Jonas expected him to be.
Paelsians widely believed him to be a devious and manipulative man who ignored their squalor while those in Auranos lived lavishly and opulently, with no heed to how much they spent or how much they wasted. Jonas had hated King Corvin before he ever laid eyes on him.
The king was a formidable-looking man. He was tall, with heavy muscle like a knight slightly past his prime. His light brown hair, peppered with gray, hung to his shoulders; his beard was short and well groomed. His blue-green eyes were keen and sharp—and, Jonas couldn’t help but note, the exact same color as the princess’s. At first glance, and despite his glittering palace inlaid with actual gold, King Corvin didn’t look like a man who encouraged hedonism and self-indulgence in his people.
