Gathering Darkness
Page 6
How Magnus wished he were anywhere else. Meeting new people and appearing cordial was such an unpleasant chore, even when he was in a relatively good mood. Which he wasn’t.
Magnus tipped his goblet to the Kraeshian siblings.
He had heard rumors of Princess Amara’s beauty, and now he saw all of them proven to be true. Her pitch-black hair was swept up into a tight coil at the back of her long, graceful neck; her skin was as dark and as flawless as her brother’s and her eyes a pale, silvery blue to match his.
Magnus forced a smile and bowed his head. “An honor, princess.”
“No,” Princess Amara said, “it is my honor to have been welcomed into your father’s palace so graciously after giving barely any notice at all of my arrival.”
“My sister is full of surprises.” Ashur’s deep voice held the edge of a Kraeshian accent, just as his sister’s did. “Even I wasn’t made aware of her arrival until late last night.”
“I missed you terribly,” she said. “I couldn’t bear to wait until you decided to return home. You left us with no idea of how long you’d be gone.”
“I like Mytica,” he replied. “Such a charming little cluster of kingdoms.”
Magnus noticed the slightest twitch in the king’s cheek at the word little. Perhaps Prince Ashur had not meant it to sound dismissive, but . . .
It sounded dismissive.
“You’re both welcome to stay in my little kingdom for as long as you like,” King Gaius said, his tone free of any noticeable animosity.
One thing Magnus endlessly admired about his father was how he always managed to slather on the charm when necessary. It was a talent Magnus had yet to acquire.
“Where has your lovely wife gone?” Princess Amara asked Magnus now. “I only had a chance to meet her briefly, when I first arrived.”
Now, there was a word that made Magnus’s cheek twitch. Wife. He glanced around the crowded banquet hall, at the several hundred guests seated at long tables, mounds of food and drink set before them, swarms of servants ensuring no glass was fully emptied. A quintet of musicians played their instruments in one corner like a cluster of noisy crickets.
How different this was from the austere ways of Limeros, where there were few parties and it was rare to ever hear the sound of music. And how swiftly his father had altered his previous tastes and interests, adapting to new laws and rules in order to blend in with his surroundings. He was deceptive: a chameleon hiding in plain sight.
Magnus supposed it was easier to adapt to Auranian ways than to force a newly conquered kingdom to change their lives overnight. That would only lead to more rebellion than his father already had to contend with, and the Limerian army was spread thin across the entire continent.
It was all going according to the king’s plan.
Or perhaps his father had begun to enjoy music and banquets and golden thrones more than he’d ever admit out loud.
“My wife? I don’t know where she is,” Magnus replied, taking a sip of his wine and beckoning a serving girl over to refill his goblet. He looked around the room again. All the faces blended together, and he couldn’t see the pale golden color of Cleo’s hair anywhere in the crowd.
“I’m sure she’s very happy to have her new husband back by her side after such a long time apart,” Amara said.
“It wasn’t all that long.” Quite frankly, not nearly long enough, he thought.
“Even a single day apart is far too long for two young people in love,” Ashur said.
The wine Magnus had drunk nearly rose in his throat. “What a delightful sentiment, Prince Ashur. I had no idea you were a romantic.”
“Ashur is the most sought-after bachelor in all of Kraeshia.” Princess Amara hooked her arm through her brother’s. “He’s refused several potential brides. Father fears he’ll never settle down.”
“What can I say?” Ashur replied. “True love has yet to find me, and I’ll settle for nothing less.”
“Which makes you that much more desirable. Even here, you’ve easily managed to capture every woman’s attention.”
“Lucky me.”
“If you’ll excuse us,” King Gaius interjected, “I must have a word alone with my son. Please, enjoy the rest of the banquet.”
“Much gratitude, your highness,” Amara replied. Touching Magnus’s arm, she said, “I hope to see you again soon.”
Magnus smiled and, despite the girl’s unquestionable beauty and grace, the gesture felt so false it was actually painful. “I insist that you do.”
As Magnus followed the king out of the crowded room, several guests tried to catch his attention, offering greetings and congratulating him on his victory in Paelsia, where he thwarted the rebels from halting the construction of the Imperial Road.
Magnus then noticed the sharp glare of Nicolo Cassian, the young palace guard stationed by the great hall doors.
“Did you keep her warm for me while I was away?” Magnus said to him in passing, feeling the first flicker of pleasure all day as Nic’s expression grew more hateful, his face turning so red it almost matched his hair.
Nic would really have to learn to control his emotions if he wanted to stay out of trouble.
The foolish boy was in love with Cleo. And, as far as Magnus knew or cared, Cleo felt the same toward him. Yet he sincerely doubted that Cleo’s eye could be caught by a lowly guard, even one she considered a friend.
Magnus tipped his goblet to the Kraeshian siblings.
He had heard rumors of Princess Amara’s beauty, and now he saw all of them proven to be true. Her pitch-black hair was swept up into a tight coil at the back of her long, graceful neck; her skin was as dark and as flawless as her brother’s and her eyes a pale, silvery blue to match his.
Magnus forced a smile and bowed his head. “An honor, princess.”
“No,” Princess Amara said, “it is my honor to have been welcomed into your father’s palace so graciously after giving barely any notice at all of my arrival.”
“My sister is full of surprises.” Ashur’s deep voice held the edge of a Kraeshian accent, just as his sister’s did. “Even I wasn’t made aware of her arrival until late last night.”
“I missed you terribly,” she said. “I couldn’t bear to wait until you decided to return home. You left us with no idea of how long you’d be gone.”
“I like Mytica,” he replied. “Such a charming little cluster of kingdoms.”
Magnus noticed the slightest twitch in the king’s cheek at the word little. Perhaps Prince Ashur had not meant it to sound dismissive, but . . .
It sounded dismissive.
“You’re both welcome to stay in my little kingdom for as long as you like,” King Gaius said, his tone free of any noticeable animosity.
One thing Magnus endlessly admired about his father was how he always managed to slather on the charm when necessary. It was a talent Magnus had yet to acquire.
“Where has your lovely wife gone?” Princess Amara asked Magnus now. “I only had a chance to meet her briefly, when I first arrived.”
Now, there was a word that made Magnus’s cheek twitch. Wife. He glanced around the crowded banquet hall, at the several hundred guests seated at long tables, mounds of food and drink set before them, swarms of servants ensuring no glass was fully emptied. A quintet of musicians played their instruments in one corner like a cluster of noisy crickets.
How different this was from the austere ways of Limeros, where there were few parties and it was rare to ever hear the sound of music. And how swiftly his father had altered his previous tastes and interests, adapting to new laws and rules in order to blend in with his surroundings. He was deceptive: a chameleon hiding in plain sight.
Magnus supposed it was easier to adapt to Auranian ways than to force a newly conquered kingdom to change their lives overnight. That would only lead to more rebellion than his father already had to contend with, and the Limerian army was spread thin across the entire continent.
It was all going according to the king’s plan.
Or perhaps his father had begun to enjoy music and banquets and golden thrones more than he’d ever admit out loud.
“My wife? I don’t know where she is,” Magnus replied, taking a sip of his wine and beckoning a serving girl over to refill his goblet. He looked around the room again. All the faces blended together, and he couldn’t see the pale golden color of Cleo’s hair anywhere in the crowd.
“I’m sure she’s very happy to have her new husband back by her side after such a long time apart,” Amara said.
“It wasn’t all that long.” Quite frankly, not nearly long enough, he thought.
“Even a single day apart is far too long for two young people in love,” Ashur said.
The wine Magnus had drunk nearly rose in his throat. “What a delightful sentiment, Prince Ashur. I had no idea you were a romantic.”
“Ashur is the most sought-after bachelor in all of Kraeshia.” Princess Amara hooked her arm through her brother’s. “He’s refused several potential brides. Father fears he’ll never settle down.”
“What can I say?” Ashur replied. “True love has yet to find me, and I’ll settle for nothing less.”
“Which makes you that much more desirable. Even here, you’ve easily managed to capture every woman’s attention.”
“Lucky me.”
“If you’ll excuse us,” King Gaius interjected, “I must have a word alone with my son. Please, enjoy the rest of the banquet.”
“Much gratitude, your highness,” Amara replied. Touching Magnus’s arm, she said, “I hope to see you again soon.”
Magnus smiled and, despite the girl’s unquestionable beauty and grace, the gesture felt so false it was actually painful. “I insist that you do.”
As Magnus followed the king out of the crowded room, several guests tried to catch his attention, offering greetings and congratulating him on his victory in Paelsia, where he thwarted the rebels from halting the construction of the Imperial Road.
Magnus then noticed the sharp glare of Nicolo Cassian, the young palace guard stationed by the great hall doors.
“Did you keep her warm for me while I was away?” Magnus said to him in passing, feeling the first flicker of pleasure all day as Nic’s expression grew more hateful, his face turning so red it almost matched his hair.
Nic would really have to learn to control his emotions if he wanted to stay out of trouble.
The foolish boy was in love with Cleo. And, as far as Magnus knew or cared, Cleo felt the same toward him. Yet he sincerely doubted that Cleo’s eye could be caught by a lowly guard, even one she considered a friend.
