Gathering Darkness
Page 60
He didn’t have to search too far to understand her meaning.
“I agree completely,” he said.
He pulled her to him and crushed his mouth against hers, breathing her in, letting her command his senses.
Yes. She was exactly what he needed tonight.
CHAPTER 18
CLEO
AURANOS
It didn’t seem to matter whether the previous day had been good or bad; the sun would always rise the next morning. And for the briefest moment, as warm rays streamed through Cleo’s window and touched her face, it seemed as if everything was back to the way it had been before. Her father and sister were alive and well. Her friends were preparing for parties and outings. The palace was filled with happiness and life.
But the daydream was over as soon as it had arrived, and she remembered that those visions were now only the ghosts of a past that continued to haunt her.
But she accepted this new reality. She had no choice here, only determination. And patience.
Nerissa arrived at her chambers to help her with her hair. The ex-seamstress had been assigned as her new handmaiden only yesterday, replacing two horrible Limerian girls. Seemingly capable of manipulating her way into any position at the palace, she had sought out the reassignment herself. This was an enviable skill, to say the least, and Cleo was grateful to have someone to talk to who knew the same secrets she did. Already Cleo had trusted the girl to deliver a message to Jonas about the king’s confirmed interest in the Kindred. She hoped to have more information to aid the rebels soon.
“Did you find out how many were killed?” Cleo asked now.
“Twenty-seven,” Nerissa said, meeting her gaze in the mirror.
“So many.” Cleo had already known of the plan to rescue Lysandra and the other rebel. Nic had told her of his agreement to assist Jonas at the palace by disguising him and his associate in Limerian uniforms and ushering them safely from the city. Her fear for Nic’s safety had almost trumped her trust in Jonas’s abilities, and she had been very close to insisting that Nic bow out of the deal. But Nic had insisted it was the right thing to do. It was an act of rebellion that the king couldn’t ignore.
And the fact that Nic’s bullies Milo and Burrus had been blamed for the explosions and now sat in the dungeon awaiting their fates didn’t cause her heart any unrest.
But those twenty-seven people who had been killed in the process unsettled her deeply. So much damage, so much suffering. Had Jonas felt that this much loss of life was warranted?
“I wish there’d been another way,” Cleo said.
“I know, princess. But don’t lose faith. Jonas only wants the best for all of us.”
Cleo twisted her amethyst ring, trying to take strength from it. “So, basically, he’s the very opposite of Prince Magnus.”
“I like to think so.”
Memories of last night replayed in her mind. She’d gone to the temple on a whim, to pray and be silent with her thoughts. But then he’d shown up.
To think that for even a second she’d been so close to . . . what? Trusting him? Believing he was something more than a cruel boy who took pleasure in torturing her?
She was such a fool.
“I hate him,” she spat. “I hate him so much I can barely see straight.”
Nerissa wove Cleo’s long pale locks into a thick plait, which she then wound into a loose bun at the nape of her neck before pinning it securely into place. “Yes, that’s definitely your problem.”
Was that judgment in her voice?
Cleo blinked with surprise. “Excuse me?”
“Hatred is like fire. It burns the one who harnesses it. It’s also extremely hard to see more helpful truths through its flames.”
Nerissa was wise beyond her eighteen years.
“You’re absolutely right,” Cleo said, her brow furrowed as she remembered her conversation with the prince. She pushed past the blinding flames of her hatred toward the boy who’d thrown Theon’s death back in her face, making her deeply regret thinking she might be able to trust him.
But she wasn’t the only one who shared dark truths last night. Magnus had told her that Lucia was adopted—a revelation more shocking than his confirmation of his feelings toward her.
Perhaps Magnus had realized he was opening himself up too much, peeling back the hateful layers that concealed his true self. He knew he needed to push her away before he revealed too much of himself . . . and of what he had in common with Cleo.
He’d succeeded, at the time.
But today was a new day.
Cleo had allowed herself to be manipulated by the memory of Theon’s death, and Magnus had managed to push her away when she’d gotten too close.
Nerissa was correct. Fire burned. Fire blinded.
Clever, Magnus, she thought. Very clever.
But not clever enough.
• • •
With every step she took toward Magnus’s chambers, Cleo wavered between having confidence and doubting what she was about to attempt.
Magnus’s natural demeanor was acidic, his manners unpleasant at best. But he’d also saved her. Helped her. Kept her secrets.
There had to be more to him.
When she reached his door, she allowed herself a moment of hesitation.
I can do this, she told herself. I need to be strong.
She raised her hand to knock, but before she could make contact, the door swung open and she found herself face-to-face with Princess Amara.
Amara smiled brightly. “Good morning, Cleo.”
Stunned, Cleo merely stood there and blinked. “Amara, I—I didn’t expect to see you, here.” Her gaze then fell to the partially unfastened ties on the girl’s dress.
“I agree completely,” he said.
He pulled her to him and crushed his mouth against hers, breathing her in, letting her command his senses.
Yes. She was exactly what he needed tonight.
CHAPTER 18
CLEO
AURANOS
It didn’t seem to matter whether the previous day had been good or bad; the sun would always rise the next morning. And for the briefest moment, as warm rays streamed through Cleo’s window and touched her face, it seemed as if everything was back to the way it had been before. Her father and sister were alive and well. Her friends were preparing for parties and outings. The palace was filled with happiness and life.
But the daydream was over as soon as it had arrived, and she remembered that those visions were now only the ghosts of a past that continued to haunt her.
But she accepted this new reality. She had no choice here, only determination. And patience.
Nerissa arrived at her chambers to help her with her hair. The ex-seamstress had been assigned as her new handmaiden only yesterday, replacing two horrible Limerian girls. Seemingly capable of manipulating her way into any position at the palace, she had sought out the reassignment herself. This was an enviable skill, to say the least, and Cleo was grateful to have someone to talk to who knew the same secrets she did. Already Cleo had trusted the girl to deliver a message to Jonas about the king’s confirmed interest in the Kindred. She hoped to have more information to aid the rebels soon.
“Did you find out how many were killed?” Cleo asked now.
“Twenty-seven,” Nerissa said, meeting her gaze in the mirror.
“So many.” Cleo had already known of the plan to rescue Lysandra and the other rebel. Nic had told her of his agreement to assist Jonas at the palace by disguising him and his associate in Limerian uniforms and ushering them safely from the city. Her fear for Nic’s safety had almost trumped her trust in Jonas’s abilities, and she had been very close to insisting that Nic bow out of the deal. But Nic had insisted it was the right thing to do. It was an act of rebellion that the king couldn’t ignore.
And the fact that Nic’s bullies Milo and Burrus had been blamed for the explosions and now sat in the dungeon awaiting their fates didn’t cause her heart any unrest.
But those twenty-seven people who had been killed in the process unsettled her deeply. So much damage, so much suffering. Had Jonas felt that this much loss of life was warranted?
“I wish there’d been another way,” Cleo said.
“I know, princess. But don’t lose faith. Jonas only wants the best for all of us.”
Cleo twisted her amethyst ring, trying to take strength from it. “So, basically, he’s the very opposite of Prince Magnus.”
“I like to think so.”
Memories of last night replayed in her mind. She’d gone to the temple on a whim, to pray and be silent with her thoughts. But then he’d shown up.
To think that for even a second she’d been so close to . . . what? Trusting him? Believing he was something more than a cruel boy who took pleasure in torturing her?
She was such a fool.
“I hate him,” she spat. “I hate him so much I can barely see straight.”
Nerissa wove Cleo’s long pale locks into a thick plait, which she then wound into a loose bun at the nape of her neck before pinning it securely into place. “Yes, that’s definitely your problem.”
Was that judgment in her voice?
Cleo blinked with surprise. “Excuse me?”
“Hatred is like fire. It burns the one who harnesses it. It’s also extremely hard to see more helpful truths through its flames.”
Nerissa was wise beyond her eighteen years.
“You’re absolutely right,” Cleo said, her brow furrowed as she remembered her conversation with the prince. She pushed past the blinding flames of her hatred toward the boy who’d thrown Theon’s death back in her face, making her deeply regret thinking she might be able to trust him.
But she wasn’t the only one who shared dark truths last night. Magnus had told her that Lucia was adopted—a revelation more shocking than his confirmation of his feelings toward her.
Perhaps Magnus had realized he was opening himself up too much, peeling back the hateful layers that concealed his true self. He knew he needed to push her away before he revealed too much of himself . . . and of what he had in common with Cleo.
He’d succeeded, at the time.
But today was a new day.
Cleo had allowed herself to be manipulated by the memory of Theon’s death, and Magnus had managed to push her away when she’d gotten too close.
Nerissa was correct. Fire burned. Fire blinded.
Clever, Magnus, she thought. Very clever.
But not clever enough.
• • •
With every step she took toward Magnus’s chambers, Cleo wavered between having confidence and doubting what she was about to attempt.
Magnus’s natural demeanor was acidic, his manners unpleasant at best. But he’d also saved her. Helped her. Kept her secrets.
There had to be more to him.
When she reached his door, she allowed herself a moment of hesitation.
I can do this, she told herself. I need to be strong.
She raised her hand to knock, but before she could make contact, the door swung open and she found herself face-to-face with Princess Amara.
Amara smiled brightly. “Good morning, Cleo.”
Stunned, Cleo merely stood there and blinked. “Amara, I—I didn’t expect to see you, here.” Her gaze then fell to the partially unfastened ties on the girl’s dress.
