Gathering Darkness
Page 34
He didn’t have to ask if she’d been practicing her elementia. Here were the two sides of it on display—life and death.
“My new friend?” she asked. “I don’t know who you mean.”
He had no patience for games today. “Don’t be coy. You know I mean Cleo.”
She shrugged. “Does it bother you that I’ve learned that the girl you were forced to marry isn’t a horrible beast with sharp teeth and claws?”
“Teeth and claws can be easily hidden.” He finally looked at her. “Strange, I always thought you were smarter than this.”
A smile touched Lucia’s lips. “Depends on the day, really.”
He’d amused her. He hadn’t been trying to amuse her.
“So right now you are merely a good brother looking out for his naïve little sister who might be taken in by one who means her harm?” she asked. “Is that what you believe? Is that why you’re here? To warn me?”
“I was concerned.”
“Concerned.” She spoke as if the word tasted rotten. “Believe me, I’m well aware that Cleo likely harbors deep resentment toward me. Although, it would be difficult for her to hold more resentment for anyone than she does for you.”
Such harsh words might have made him flinch if he wasn’t already well aware of the truth in them. “This conversation is not nearly as cordial as I’d intended. Why so hostile today, Lucia?”
Her expression was a bit pinched, but Magnus wasn’t sure if it was entirely directed at him.
“You avoid me for days, like I’m carrying a disease, and you think I’m being hostile?”
“Apologies, sister,” he hissed the word, “but I was under the impression you wanted to make me forget . . . how did you put it? My unwelcome thoughts?”
Her expression stiffened. “You weren’t meant to hear that.”
His wedding day held more bad memories than a rebel attack, an earthquake, and bridal daggers combined. That day had also confirmed Lucia’s continued disgust with his unbrotherly feelings toward her.
Magnus willed himself to stay calm. His confrontation with Cleo had disturbed him more than he wanted to admit to himself.
The rose Lucia held had turned brown and brittle in seconds. Was that earth magic? Or was it the slow, dry heat of fire that had so quickly stolen its beauty?
Perhaps he wasn’t the only one trying to stay calm.
Only a year ago, Lucia had come running to Magnus, her arms laden with storybooks. Such fantastical, entertaining reading material wasn’t usually permitted in the Limerian library, which was meant to contain only educational texts, essays, and facts.
They’d spent an afternoon poring over the books and had found a tale about a secret magical gateway in northern Limeros, which allowed access to worlds apart from this one, but only if the traveler prepared for the possibility they might never return.
“Would you want to go through the gateway?” she’d asked him.
“I don’t know.” He had considered it carefully before answering. “Go somewhere far from here where everything’s fresh and new and full of possibility? I might. As long as you came with me.”
“I could never leave my home,” she’d replied with a laugh. “What a silly thought!”
She didn’t realize it, but her words had wounded him deeply. When the day was over he’d taken the book with him, torn out the pages that contained the story about the gateway, and burned each one, watching the parchment curl and blacken before his eyes.
Torn, burned, and forgotten—this was what should always be done with useless fantasies.
“All I wanted to say to you today is . . . be careful with Cleo,” Magnus said. “She’s very deceptive.”
“Aren’t we all when we need to be?” Lucia said with a slight smile. “If there’s nothing else, Magnus, I have other things to do.”
A voice nearby caught Magnus’s attention before he could respond. Not that he knew what else to say to her. “Your highness.” It was Cronus. “The king summons you.”
Clearly Lucia didn’t want his guidance—or company—anymore. She wished only for him to leave her alone.
Very well. Wish granted.
“Good day, Lucia.” Magnus turned on his heels and followed Cronus along the path back to the palace. On the way, he passed Cleo, heading toward the flower garden.
“My sister is waiting for you,” he said.
“Glad to hear it,” she replied.
She sounded so lighthearted and carefree; it was as if they’d never had their discussion earlier. Was she really so certain he wouldn’t tell his father everything she’d said? Everything she’d overheard? “Be careful, princess.”
“I always am.”
“Always? Or starting today?”
The glare she sent him over her shoulder was so fierce it very nearly amused him.
Magnus left the sunlight of the garden. When his eyes had adjusted to the darker interior of the palace, he realized that Cronus was closely scrutinizing him, surely wondering why Magnus had let Cleo go with no more than a warning.
“Your comment is not required,” Magnus muttered.
“I wouldn’t dare offer it, your highness,” Cronus replied.
“What does Father want from me today?”
“He requests your presence when he questions the rebel.”
He didn’t see what help he could offer, but he didn’t protest. He would do as his father commanded, even though just being in the same room as the king made his blood boil.
“My new friend?” she asked. “I don’t know who you mean.”
He had no patience for games today. “Don’t be coy. You know I mean Cleo.”
She shrugged. “Does it bother you that I’ve learned that the girl you were forced to marry isn’t a horrible beast with sharp teeth and claws?”
“Teeth and claws can be easily hidden.” He finally looked at her. “Strange, I always thought you were smarter than this.”
A smile touched Lucia’s lips. “Depends on the day, really.”
He’d amused her. He hadn’t been trying to amuse her.
“So right now you are merely a good brother looking out for his naïve little sister who might be taken in by one who means her harm?” she asked. “Is that what you believe? Is that why you’re here? To warn me?”
“I was concerned.”
“Concerned.” She spoke as if the word tasted rotten. “Believe me, I’m well aware that Cleo likely harbors deep resentment toward me. Although, it would be difficult for her to hold more resentment for anyone than she does for you.”
Such harsh words might have made him flinch if he wasn’t already well aware of the truth in them. “This conversation is not nearly as cordial as I’d intended. Why so hostile today, Lucia?”
Her expression was a bit pinched, but Magnus wasn’t sure if it was entirely directed at him.
“You avoid me for days, like I’m carrying a disease, and you think I’m being hostile?”
“Apologies, sister,” he hissed the word, “but I was under the impression you wanted to make me forget . . . how did you put it? My unwelcome thoughts?”
Her expression stiffened. “You weren’t meant to hear that.”
His wedding day held more bad memories than a rebel attack, an earthquake, and bridal daggers combined. That day had also confirmed Lucia’s continued disgust with his unbrotherly feelings toward her.
Magnus willed himself to stay calm. His confrontation with Cleo had disturbed him more than he wanted to admit to himself.
The rose Lucia held had turned brown and brittle in seconds. Was that earth magic? Or was it the slow, dry heat of fire that had so quickly stolen its beauty?
Perhaps he wasn’t the only one trying to stay calm.
Only a year ago, Lucia had come running to Magnus, her arms laden with storybooks. Such fantastical, entertaining reading material wasn’t usually permitted in the Limerian library, which was meant to contain only educational texts, essays, and facts.
They’d spent an afternoon poring over the books and had found a tale about a secret magical gateway in northern Limeros, which allowed access to worlds apart from this one, but only if the traveler prepared for the possibility they might never return.
“Would you want to go through the gateway?” she’d asked him.
“I don’t know.” He had considered it carefully before answering. “Go somewhere far from here where everything’s fresh and new and full of possibility? I might. As long as you came with me.”
“I could never leave my home,” she’d replied with a laugh. “What a silly thought!”
She didn’t realize it, but her words had wounded him deeply. When the day was over he’d taken the book with him, torn out the pages that contained the story about the gateway, and burned each one, watching the parchment curl and blacken before his eyes.
Torn, burned, and forgotten—this was what should always be done with useless fantasies.
“All I wanted to say to you today is . . . be careful with Cleo,” Magnus said. “She’s very deceptive.”
“Aren’t we all when we need to be?” Lucia said with a slight smile. “If there’s nothing else, Magnus, I have other things to do.”
A voice nearby caught Magnus’s attention before he could respond. Not that he knew what else to say to her. “Your highness.” It was Cronus. “The king summons you.”
Clearly Lucia didn’t want his guidance—or company—anymore. She wished only for him to leave her alone.
Very well. Wish granted.
“Good day, Lucia.” Magnus turned on his heels and followed Cronus along the path back to the palace. On the way, he passed Cleo, heading toward the flower garden.
“My sister is waiting for you,” he said.
“Glad to hear it,” she replied.
She sounded so lighthearted and carefree; it was as if they’d never had their discussion earlier. Was she really so certain he wouldn’t tell his father everything she’d said? Everything she’d overheard? “Be careful, princess.”
“I always am.”
“Always? Or starting today?”
The glare she sent him over her shoulder was so fierce it very nearly amused him.
Magnus left the sunlight of the garden. When his eyes had adjusted to the darker interior of the palace, he realized that Cronus was closely scrutinizing him, surely wondering why Magnus had let Cleo go with no more than a warning.
“Your comment is not required,” Magnus muttered.
“I wouldn’t dare offer it, your highness,” Cronus replied.
“What does Father want from me today?”
“He requests your presence when he questions the rebel.”
He didn’t see what help he could offer, but he didn’t protest. He would do as his father commanded, even though just being in the same room as the king made his blood boil.
