Frozen Tides (13 page)

If it were any other day, she might find this humorous. “The pain you're feeling right now should be reminder enough,” she said, then glanced up and down the hallway. “I need to talk to you about a private matter.”

He rubbed his forehead. “Now?”

She nodded, her throat tight.

“Fine.” He gestured toward his room. “Come in and experience the fine luxury I've been given by his majesty.”

She chewed her lip. “No, let's go outside. I need some fresh air and . . . it will do you good.”

“Excellent idea. And if I freeze to death, I'll be no further burden to you.”

“Stop it, Nic. You're not a burden. I honestly don't know what I'd do without you.” She grabbed him and hugged him hard.

He stiffened with surprise, but then returned her hug. “Are you all right?”

“That's a very good question. I'm not so sure anymore.”

He nodded. “Then let's have that talk.”

Nic grabbed his warm cloak, and Cleo led him out of the palace and into the ice gardens.

“Have you seen the labyrinth?” she asked, drawing the hood of her cloak up over her head to help block out the chill.

“Only from a distance.”

She eyed the red-suited guards dotting the white landscape. “I've walked it several times and know the way through. It'll give us some privacy.”

As they entered the maze, Cleo hooked her arm through Nic's for additional warmth.

“All right,” he said. “What's so urgently private that we need to walk through a maze of ice on the coldest day I've ever lived?”

“Well, first I want to apologize. I feel that I've been neglecting you when you . . .” She took hold of his cold hand in her gloved one. “When you've been deeply in need of a friend.”

His steps faltered and his expression grew serious. “What do you mean? I know you're my friend. I mean, you're
more
than that. You're my family now. The only family I have.”

“Yes, of course. But I know you've been so troubled since the temple . . . since Prince Ashur died . . .”

His face went pale. “Is that what this talk is all about? Don't ask me about him, Cleo. Please.”

“I know you're in pain, Nic. I want to help you.”

“I'm working it out for myself.”

“By getting drunk every night?”

“Perhaps it's not the best strategy to clear a confused mind, but it's one of the few I have available to me.”

“I can tell you're confused. Talk to me about this, Nic—about
him
. I'm here for you. I mean it.”

His nose had already gone red from the cold, and his freckles stood out sharply on his pale face. “All I know is I've never felt that way, ever, for . . .” His jaw tightened. “I don't know, Cleo. I can't explain it, not even to myself. I've liked girls all my life, and I know I haven't only been fooling myself. Girls are pretty and soft and . . . amazing. What I felt for you,
especially
for you . . . that wasn't fake or a lie I told myself. It was real. But with the prince . . . I don't know what to think. It's not as if I've undergone some massive change and now want to kiss every boy that crosses my path.”

“But you liked him. Perhaps
more
than liked him.”

He rubbed his hand through his short red hair. “I barely knew him, Cleo. But . . . what I'd begun to feel, it . . . it didn't feel wrong.”

Cleo nodded. “I completely understand. What our hearts want can overtake what our minds tell us is forbidden to us. We can't control these feelings, even if we desperately wish we could.”

He began to eye her with suspicion. “You understand, do you? Why? Is
your
heart currently confused as well? Are we even out here to talk about me? Or are we talking about
you
?”

Nic always saw her clearly—more than anyone else did. She would be wise to remember that now.

She closed her eyes to try to block out all of her confusion, but all she could see was the Theon from her nightmare, staring at her with pain and confusion.

“Why would you betray me like this?”

“Cleo, look at me,” Nic prompted.

Reluctantly, she opened her eyes.

“Don't,” he said sternly. “Just don't.”

“I don't even know what you're talking about.”

“Of course you do,” Nic said, then groaned. “Just remember one thing: Everything the prince has done lately, he's done it for one person only—and it's not you. It's him. He is every bit as scheming and conniving and selfish as his father. You're smarter than this, Cleo. I know you are. You have to see through to the motivations behind everything he does.”

His tone was free from accusation or disgust. Rather, he spoke with patience and understanding . . . and perhaps a little frustration.

“I'm not sure what to believe anymore, Nic.”

“I can see that.” He swept her hair back from her face and behind her shoulder. “I know you didn't come to me today to talk about love, Cleo. You came to me because you know that, whenever things get a little blurry, I can always help you see reason again. Prince Magnus is your mortal enemy, not a dark hero who will redeem himself for true love. And that's never, ever going to change.”

She couldn't help but laugh, but it held no humor. “You make me sound like a complete fool.”

“No, you're no fool. You're the smartest girl I've ever known.” He grinned. “And the best-looking one, by far. I know you're going to do the right thing. But you have to remember who your enemy is. Remember why we came back to this palace—for more information about the Kindred. If we can get even one of them you'll have your throne back.”

What was more important to her? Vengeance for her family's death, the reclaiming of her stolen throne, ensuring a future for her people that was free of the King of Blood?

Or a prince, whom she knew she could never fully trust with her heart or her life?

It all seemed so clear again. Thank the goddess she'd had that dream about Theon to remind her of what she could never forget—and that she had Nic as her voice of reason.

“You're absolutely right,” Cleo managed to say after a heavy silence. Finally, she led them toward the labyrinth's exit. “Magnus is my enemy. I hate him for everything he's taken from me—from both of us—and I always will.”

Nic let out what sounded like a sigh of relief. “Good to hear.”

They finally exited the maze, only to be greeted by a dry, humorless voice.

“Yes, that is good to hear, isn't it? For all of us.”

Magnus leaned against the frozen labyrinth wall, as if he'd been waiting there for them to emerge. Cleo's blood turned to ice at the sight of him.

“My, that must have been a fascinating conversation. I'm sorry I only caught the end of it. I wondered why you were looking so upset inside the palace, princess, so I took the liberty of following you and your best friend out here to learn why. After all, as your mortal, eternal enemy, I'm quite wary of your intentions.”

The thought that he'd only heard the end of their conversation and not any hints at her internal struggle about him was the only relief she could find.

“You're not wearing a cloak,” she said when she'd finally found her voice. “You'll freeze to death out here.”

“Would you like that?” He wasn't shivering, but his arms were crossed tightly over his chest. “Very sorry to disappoint you, but I'll be fine. Perhaps it's my cold, black heart that makes all the difference?” He shifted his icy gaze to Nic. “And here I thought we'd
somewhat bonded over our drinks and secrets last night. How disappointing.” He hesitated, frowning. “Do you even hear me, Cassian?”

“Um,” Nic began. “Looks like you're about to have some unexpected company today.”

Cleo turned, followed Nic's line of sight, and gasped.

Heading directly toward them was Princess Lucia Damora.

MAGNUS

LIMEROS

L
ucia . . .” Magnus moved toward her as if in a dream. Was this true? Was this actually happening? “You're here. You're safe!”

She wore a long gray cloak with a white rabbit fur trim. Her raven-black hair hung loose, a stark contrast to the snowy surroundings, as were her red lips and sky-blue eyes.

Walking next to her was a young man Magnus didn't recognize.

“Greetings, Magnus,” Lucia said. “I had no idea you were back in Limeros.”

She spoke so calmly, it was as if they'd seen each other only yesterday. As if he hadn't chased after her all over Mytica, trying to stop her from letting that devious Watcher ruin her life, only to find blood and death at the temple.

All he wanted was to reach forward and take her hand in his, to ensure that she was real. There was a time not so long ago when she was his only friend in the world, the one who knew him better than any other.

Cleo and her devoted minion remained standing by the exit to the ice maze, but they were close enough to overhear this
conversation. The last time the two princesses had seen each other, Lucia had allegedly tried to kill Cleo. After overhearing the cold words Cleo had spoken to Nic, Magnus was more certain than ever that Lucia had ample reason to threaten the Auranian princess's life. He couldn't stop himself from glancing over his shoulder to see her reaction to his adopted sister's return. Cleo stood there, her fists clenched at her sides, with not a glimmer of fear in her eyes. No great surprise.

He frowned. “Where else would I be, Lucia? The note you left, your elopement . . .”

“I don't believe I mentioned I'd be going to Limeros.”

“Remember, I do know you. Perhaps better than you realize. It was immediately clear to me where you'd want to go with your . . .
beloved
.” And then there was also the fact that, in her fit of rage, Lucia had told Cleo that the water Kindred could be claimed here. Where else would her devious Watcher want to take her?

“I'm sure you were very angry with me,” said Lucia after a moment of consideration.

“I was angry,” he admitted. “But not with you. I blame Alexius for everything.”

“Me too.”

That was a surprising admission, and one that perhaps explained Alexius's curious absence from Lucia's side. “You were there at the temple, weren't you? Before the ice storm?”

She nodded. “We were.”

He'd been doing a good job of ignoring the cold, but now a chill crackled down his spine. “You
caused
the ice storm, didn't you?”

“Yes,” she replied simply.

His gaze flicked again to the young man beside her, eyeing him now with intense curiosity. He was very tall, with a strong jaw, amber-colored eyes, and dark blond hair long enough to
brush his shoulders. The boy eyed Magnus with interest, an eyebrow raised.

“Who are you?” Magnus asked sharply.

“I am Kyan.”

“What are you doing with my sister, Kyan?”

He cocked his head. “Many things.”

Kyan's short, disrespectful reply infuriated Magnus, but he held his anger tightly to his chest. “Where's your new husband, Lucia?”

“Alexius is dead.”

He snapped his gaze back to her.
“What?”

“He's dead. He and Melenia both.”

Melenia
. The powerful Watcher who'd visited his father's dreams, advising him to build a road that would lead him to the Kindred. Up until now, Magnus had assumed that the king was still impatiently waiting for her to contact him again.

It seemed King Gaius's days of immortal guidance were over.

“Were you the one who killed them?” Cleo asked from several paces away. Magnus tensed at the sound of her voice.

“One of them,” Lucia replied calmly.

Magnus knew how powerful Lucia's
elementia
was, but he also knew that it was often uncontrollable, so much that she'd been afraid of it. She'd worried that her magic had made her evil, but he'd always reassured her that nothing about her could ever be evil.

Did he still believe that?

Lucia looked sharply to the other princess. “I'm surprised to see you here, Cleo. I was certain you'd be long dead by now.”

“Alive and well, thank you,” Cleo replied through gritted teeth.

“Magnus,” Lucia said, turning back to him, “you should take more care in selecting your company. That girl will put a dagger in you the moment your back's turned.”

“Trust me, I'm well aware of that,” he said with a nod.

“And yet you let her live.”

“I believe she could still prove useful to me.”

“I disagree.”

He ignored Cleo's soft grunt of disgust. “Why are you here, Lucia?”

She raised a dark eyebrow. “I thought you'd be happy to see me.”

Her chilly demeanor, coupled with her emotionless admission that her precious golden Watcher was dead, had put him on edge. This wasn't quite the brother-sister reunion he'd imagined, nor was this the same Lucia he remembered. “You just told me you didn't know that I was here, so clearly you've come home for another reason entirely. What is it?”

“This isn't my home,” Lucia said, glaring at the palace with displeasure. “It never was, not really.”

“You're wrong. This is as much your home as it is mine.” He eyed Kyan with wariness. “Why don't you and your new friend come inside, where it's warm?”

With his right arm still bound in a sling, he reached for her with his left hand, but Lucia stepped backward and closer to Kyan.

“Not just yet,” she said.

Magnus's hand dropped back to his side.

“We've been told that, somewhere on these grounds, there's an ancient stone wheel,” Kyan said. “I want to see it.”

A stone wheel? Immediately, the wedding gift Lord Gareth presented to him during their royal tour came to mind. The lord had boastfully claimed that the ugly wheel carved out of seemingly ordinary rock was a valuable piece of history with ties to the Watchers.

“You must have been misinformed,” Cleo spoke up before Magnus could reply.

Magnus turned and frowned at her, their gazes meeting for a
brief moment. He swore he saw a silent warning move through her cerulean eyes.

Don't tell them anything.

A glimmer of a memory flickered in his mind, a connection he hadn't made until this very moment. The Auranian library was home to a much more diverse collection of books and topics than the Limerian library. Over the centuries, ever since Valoria had ruled, Limerian kings had ordered many volumes about legends, goddesses, the history of
elementia
to be destroyed. However, various radical groups had managed to salvage an impressive number of books, sending them down to be part of Auranos's vast collection, where they would be safe.

Recently, Magnus had taken to reading everything on the subject of magic that he could find. It was the least he could do after the king had revealed the shocking truth that his mother was not Queen Althea, but his former mistress, Sabina, a scheming witch whom Lucia had killed.

If this was true, Magnus needed to know what it might mean for him, what effect this witch's blood could have on his life and his future.

Magnus had read that there once was a time when immortals were able to come and go from the Sanctuary as they pleased, in both hawk and human form. Some of those immortals carried on affairs with mortals, and some of those affairs resulted in children. Because those children, and their children's children, were the result of an immortal pairing, they all potentially held a small amount of
elementia
within them. Those who possessed those traces of magic were witches, and the vast majority of witches were female.

Too bad. A part of Magnus had been intrigued by the possibility that he might have traces of magic within him.

But this was unimportant at the moment. What was important was the memory of an illustration he'd found in an ancient book, which depicted the gateway the immortals used to enter Mytica from the otherworldly Sanctuary.

A gateway that looked a great deal like a stone wheel.

He cast another glance at Princess Cleo and narrowed his eyes.

Just how much do you know about this, princess?

“Princess Cleo is correct,” Magnus said after several moments of silence. “Your information is faulty. Don't you think you'd remember such an object if it really existed here, Lucia? You spent sixteen years wandering these grounds at my side. Remember?”

Lucia and Kyan exchanged a look, grave and filled with silent understanding. When she returned her attention to Magnus, something in her expression had softened. Her lips curved into that sweet smile he remembered so well.

“Of course I remember,” she said. “We had such a wonderful childhood, didn't we?”

“The parts that included you were wonderful.” He hesitated. “I know you can't forgive me for . . . many things I've done. But my only wish is for us to find a way to move past these mistakes. One day I hope you can see me again as you once saw me—as your brother and your friend.”

“What an unusually sentimental thought for you, Magnus.” She raised an eyebrow. “But are you certain that's all you want from me anymore? A chaste friendship between siblings and nothing more?”

His heart had begun to pound. “Lucia . . .”

She drew closer and took his face between her warm hands. “The knowledge that you loved me so deeply is the only truth I've held on to in the last weeks. I was a fool to deny my feelings for you all this time. I see that now.”

“What are you saying?”

“Only this.” Lucia pulled his face to hers and kissed him, making him gasp with surprise.

He'd kissed her only once before, when he foolishly chose to expose his heart and soul and tell her how he'd been secretly harboring intense feelings for her. They might have been raised together, but they weren't blood. That revelation had made it acceptable to him to want her as more than just a sibling, but it hadn't for her.

When he'd kissed her then, she'd pushed him away in disgust. But now she was the one so unexpectedly kissing him, and she just pulled him closer, her lips warm and soft against his.

How different everything would be if this were the way she'd kissed him back those many months ago.

“Magnus.” Cleo grabbed hold of his arm, breaking him free from the moment.

His head swam and he felt unsteady on his feet. “Unhand me.”

She did as requested, but then fixed him with a glare. Nic remained close to his princess's side, his arms crossed over his chest. “Magnus, listen to me. She's trying to manipulate you, are you too stupid to see that?”

“I supposed you know all about manipulation, don't you, princess?” he countered.

A smile played at Lucia's lips. “Why do you tolerate this fallen princess, Magnus? I should have killed her when I had the chance.”

“But you didn't,” Cleo said. “You stopped yourself because you knew it was wrong. Has that sane and good part of you been somehow erased?”

Lucia groaned. “I am so very weary of the sound of your voice.” She flicked a finger at Cleo and a burst of air magic blew the princess backward, sending her crashing into a heap of snow.
Nic rushed to her side immediately, checking her for wounds and helping to get her upright.

Lucia looked down at Magnus's sling. “Poor brother. That looks painful. Ever since
her
, your life has been filled with so much pain. This only proves that you still need me.”

“Of course I need you,” he agreed.

“Shh. I need to concentrate.” She placed her hands atop his damaged arm, pressed down gently, and poured healing earth magic into him.

His knees buckled in response to a sudden blaze of pain, so similar to the sensation that overcame him when he was moments from death in the Auranian battle, and he collapsed to the ground, gritting his teeth and trying not to cry out.

When the pain finally faded, he squeezed his hand and bent his elbow, barely believing that the break had been healed and his arm felt just as strong as ever. He looked up at her with awe. “Thank you, Lucia.”

She slid her fingers up into his hair, tucking it behind his ears, as he pushed back up to his feet. “Now, my darling Magnus, look at me.”

He smiled and did as she asked, but then—with no warning, no movement on his part—he was overcome by a sort of dizziness that pulled his mind backward into what felt like a dark and endless abyss. Suddenly, it was as if Magnus couldn't look away from her familiar bright blue eyes, even if he wanted to.

“Where is the stone wheel?” Lucia asked.

Immediately, the answer rose up painfully in his throat, summoned by the utmost need to tell her the truth, but he managed to swallow the words back down, each one as sharp as a blade.

“Don't resist,” she said. “Please, Magnus, for your own good, don't resist this.”

The unrelenting pressure of a thousand vises clamped down on either side of his skull. “What are you doing to me?”

“Tell us where the wheel is,” she said again.

When he resisted, a thick, coppery taste flooded his mouth and he gagged.

“Lucia . . .” he sputtered, and blood spilled over his bottom lip.

“What are you doing to him?” Cleo shrieked as she drew closer again.

Lucia didn't move her gaze from Magnus. “Quiet.”

“You're hurting him!”

“And if I do? What would you care? Magnus, please stop resisting my magic and tell me the truth, and this will all be over in an instant. Where is it?”

He couldn't hold back any longer; the pressure—the pain—was far too strong. The words rushed forward. “The far . . . side . . . of the labyrinth. Near the cliff's edge.”

She nodded, her eyes bereft of pleasure. “Well done.” She turned to Kyan. “That's only a hundred paces from here.”