She jabbed her finger at the mirror. “Don’t ever forget it.”
• • •
Her resolve was back in place and so was her courage.
She needed to see Magnus. She needed to know how safe they were at the palace while the king remained in Auranos, and if there was any news about the missing water Kindred. She needed to make sure he made immediate arrangements for Nerissa’s travel. And she refused to remain in her chambers waiting for him to come to her.
While the Auranian palace was huge—so enormous that it was easy for even the most seasoned servants to become lost in its labyrinthine hallways—at least it had been filled with light and life. Bright paintings and tapestries adorned the walls, the hallways were well-lit with lanterns and torches, and its many windows looked out on the beautiful City of Gold. Cleo had always felt safe and happy there—until the day they were attacked and conquered.
In the Limerian palace, however, everything seemed dark and dreary, with barely any artwork—cheerful or otherwise—to adorn the walls. The stonework was dull and unpolished, the edges rough and sharp. The only warmth seemed to come from the many fireplaces, vital to a castle built in a kingdom of constant winter.
Her steps slowed as she came across a hall of portraits. The paintings reminded her so much of the Bellos family collection that once graced the Auranian palace walls, it was as if they were rendered by the same artist.
Each Damora she passed held a stern expression and a serious gaze. King Gaius, keen-eyed and ruthlessly handsome; Queen Althea, regal and proper; Princess Lucia, solemnly beautiful with dark hair and sky-blue eyes.
She paused before Magnus’s portrait. When he sat for it, he was much more of a boy than the man he’d recently become, so similar in appearance to his father. But the boy in the painting still bore that familiar scar on his right cheek—a scar his cruel father had given him as punishment for something trivial.
That scar was physical proof that the prince didn’t always obey the king’s command.
“Princess Cleiona.” A voice greeted her from around the next corner. “How lovely to see you today.”
It was Lord Kurtis, now standing before her, stunningly tall. He was even taller than Magnus, but with a more slender build with narrow shoulders and thin arms: traits of one who’d spent his life in leisure. His smile was amiable, and his green eyes reminded her of the olive trees in the courtyard back at her home.
“It’s lovely to see you too,” she said.
“I’m glad our paths have crossed today.” His brows drew together. “I wanted to personally apologize for disrespecting your husband in front of you. It was incredibly rude of me and I’m deeply ashamed.”
Cleo tried to think of the best way to reply, and made a quick decision to speak her mind as bluntly as a Kraeshian would. “Perhaps you could have acted more diplomatically, but I think the prince’s behavior was overly rude and uncalled for. Please accept my apology for your embarrassment.”
“I’d say embarrassment took second place to the fear that he’d actually have my throat cut, your grace. But thank you.”
“You were only standing up for what you believed was your duty.”
“Yes, but I should have known to show more care in my words and actions when it comes to the prince. After all, I already know . . .”
“Go on,” she prompted. “What do you know?”
He shook his head and lowered his gaze. “I shouldn’t say any more.”
“No, you absolutely should.”
Kurtis looked concerned, as if he were wrestling with whether or not to speak, which only made Cleo more eager to hear it. “Please,” she said. “Tell me.”
“Well . . . when the prince and I were children, we didn’t get along very well. My father would bring me here with him when he had business with the king, and Magnus and I were expected to spend time together, to become friends. It didn’t take long for me to learn that the prince is not one to have close friends. He’s . . . forgive me, your grace, but he was a rather sadistic bully of a boy. And I’m very sorry to see that little has changed over the years.”
A sadistic bully of a boy. It sounded right on target for the son of King Gaius.
“I can only hope . . .” Kurtis trailed off again.
“What?”
He blinked. “I just hope that he hasn’t been overly cruel to you.”
Cleo reached out and squeezed Kurtis’s hand. “Thank you. But I assure you, when it comes to the prince, I can handle myself.”
“I don’t doubt it for a moment. You’re so much like your sister.” He smiled, but it quickly faded at the edges. “My deepest condolences on her loss, your grace. She was truly remarkable.”
Cleo tried to ignore the jolt of pain that came from being reminded of her sister, and regarded Kurtis with new interest. “You were a friend of Emilia’s?”
“Acquainted, but I’m not sure I’d say that we were friends. We were rivals, really.” He raised a brow at Cleo’s look of curiosity. “We met several years ago in Auranos, where we competed against each other in an archery tournament held in her honor. She was so talented, and she insisted that boys and girls should compete in the same matches.”
Cleo couldn’t help but laugh at the memory of the festivals and competitions once held in the City of Gold. “Yes, Emilia was an incredible archer. I envied her. But, then again, it takes years of practice to hone a skill like that, and back then I preferred activities that were much less athletic.”