“Could have fooled me by how much you’ve been snuggling up to him on this trip.”
She grabbed his arm as he was about to walk away, digging her fingers in until he looked at her again. “Anything you think you see between us is for show only. Remember that.”
Nic’s shoulders slumped. “Apologies, Cleo. Of course I know that. This all must be so hard for you.”
“Thank the goddess you’re here with me.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Oh?”
She grinned, his hurtful words already forgotten. “I mean, who else would carry my chests of gowns so well?”
He laughed as she pulled him into a tight hug, never wanting to let him go. “I’m here for you, Cleo. Whenever you need me.”
She nodded, pressing her face against the rough fabric of his uniform. “I know.”
“You’re so brave—spending time with that monster. Forced to share his bed.” A look of hatred crossed his face as he leaned back from her. “Every night I imagine killing him for you.”
Cleo grabbed hold of Nic’s hands, squeezing them tightly in hers. “Don’t worry about me. I can handle the prince.” She wanted to tell him that Magnus did not share her bed and that she spent every night alone, but she held her tongue. No one, not even Nic, could know such things. “Please rest up so you can be by my side tomorrow. I need all the support I can get.”
“I’ll rest up. As soon as I take care of the horses for his majesty.”
“See you tomorrow.” She went up on her tiptoes to kiss Nic’s cheek. At the last moment he turned his face so she kissed his lips instead.
This earned her a newly brightened ear-to-ear grin. “Till tomorrow, princess.”
After a sleepless night, she’d been woken early by Dora and Helena, who were just as disrespectful to her here as they were at the Auranian castle. They helped her dress and look presentable. She wore a new fur-lined cloak draped over one of her finest new gowns. This, as well as the cloak, was red, to pay tribute to the official color of Limeros. The color of blood. Likely, not a coincidence at all. On the sleeves of the gown, golden snakes were embroidered, the kingdom’s sigil. Also appropriate for a kingdom filled to overflowing with serpents.
Outside the castle, following in Magnus’s footsteps, she turned a distracted glance toward the gathered nobles who’d joined them today for an official presentation of a wedding gift by Lord Gareth, a close friend of the king’s. To their left was a pathway that wound through the ice gardens and into an intricate labyrinth of frostcovered hedges. To the right was a large clearing with a long, rectangular frozen pond, which led toward the castle itself. Beautiful, but stark and pristine. Not an ounce of warmth existed in any direction.
“This is said to have belonged to the Watchers themselves.”
Her gaze immediately snapped back to Lord Gareth. She finally noticed the object they had halted near, the gift from Lord Gareth. It was a carved stone wheel taller than Cleo’s shoulder that protruded from the frozen ground at the entrance to the gardens.
“What about the Watchers?” she asked, struggling to keep her voice steady.
“Oh yes,” Magnus said. “Please tell us. It’s all so fascinating.”
It was rare that the prince said anything that didn’t mock whomever he spoke with. It was equally rare, she’d found, that anyone caught on to this as easily as she did.
Cleo remembered the rebel boy, Tarus, mentioning stone wheels that were associated with the Watchers and the Sanctuary. This couldn’t possibly be the same thing. Could it?
The balding but distinguished-looking lord clasped his hands in front of him, rocking on his heels, seemingly pleased he now had the royal couple’s full attention. “The Watchers watch us in the form of hawks.”
“A child’s tale I’ve heard a thousand times,” Magnus said, dismissively.
“Is it? Or is it true?” The lord appeared to welcome the chance to debate this. “Magic is very real, your highness.”
Magnus watched him, his gaze steady. “What makes you believe that?”
“I’ve seen many things that can’t be explained. I’ve met witches who can reach into themselves and use small pieces of elementia to create magic in the mortal world.”
Every piece of Cleo’s attention was now focused entirely on this man. This was it. This man could be the one to tell her what she needed to know most. “Is the Kindred real? I’ve heard stories about the elemental crystals, but they could just be legend.”
He glanced at her. “I believe it’s true. There is a whispered prophecy that says when the sorceress is reborn, she will be the one who leads the way to the Kindred.”
Cleo listened intently. A sorceress would lead the way? There was one thing she believed most of all—that the ring she now wore had once belonged to the sorceress Eva.
What did this mean?