The words felt thick on his tongue. Lies always slid smooth as silk for him, but the truth was never quite so easy.
How he felt for Lucia was only the love of a brother for his sister.
That lie did feel smooth. Even when he told it to himself.
“There,” she said, patting the bandage she’d wrapped around his hand. “All better.”
“You really should be a healer.”
“I don’t think our parents would consider that an occupation befitting a princess.”
“You’re absolutely right. They wouldn’t.”
Her hand was still on his. “Thank the goddess you weren’t hurt worse than this.”
“Yes, thank the goddess,” he said dryly before his lips curved. “Your devotion to Valoria puts my own to shame. Always has.”
She looked at him sharply, but her smile remained. “I know you think such strong beliefs in the unseen are silly.”
“I’m not sure I’d use the word silly.”
“Sometimes you need to try to believe in something bigger than yourself, Magnus. Something you can’t see or touch. To allow your heart to have faith no matter what. It’s what will give you strength in troubled times.”
He watched her patiently. “If you say so.”
Lucia’s smile widened. His pessimism had always amused her. They’d had this discussion many times before. “One day you’ll believe. I know you will.”
“I believe in you. Isn’t that enough?”
“Then I guess I should set a good example for my dear brother.” She leaned forward and brushed her lips against his cheek. His breath ceased completely for a moment. “I must return to the banquet. After all, it is supposed to be in my honor. Mother will be angry if I just disappear and never return.”
He nodded and touched his bandage. “Thank you for saving my life.”
“Hardly. But try to be careful with your temper while around breakable things.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
She gave him a last grin and hurried back into the great hall.
Magnus remained where he was for several more minutes, listening to the buzz of conversation of the crowd of nobles at the banquet. He couldn’t seem to summon the energy or interest to go back in there. If anyone asked him tomorrow, he’d simply say that loss of blood had made him ill.
He did feel ill. The way he felt about Lucia was wrong. Unnatural. And it was growing by the day even though he fought to ignore it. For a whole year he’d barely been able to look at any other noble girl—now at a time when his father was pressing him to choose a future wife.
Soon the king would likely think that his son’s romantic taste was not for girls at all. Quite frankly, Magnus didn’t care much what he might think. Even if he did prefer boys, the king would still force him to marry someone of his choosing when his patience wore out.
It would not be Lucia, not even in Magnus’s wildest fantasy. Such incestuous unions—even amongst royals—were forbidden by both law and religion. And if Lucia ever learned of the depth of his feelings for her, she’d be disgusted. He didn’t want the light in her eyes when she looked at him diminished in any way. That light was the only thing that gave him any joy at all.
Everything else about this made him utterly miserable.
A pretty young maid passed him in the cool, shadowy hall and glanced at him, pausing. She had gray eyes and hair the color of chestnuts, bound into a bun. Her woolen dress was faded but neat and unwrinkled. “Prince Magnus, is there anything I can do for you tonight?”
While his beautiful sister’s very presence tortured him, he did allow himself a few meaningless distractions. Amia was extremely useful, in countless ways.
“Not tonight, my sweet.”
She moved closer, conspiratorially. “The king left the banquet and is meeting with Lady Mallius right now on the balcony, talking in hushed voices. Interesting, yes?”
“Perhaps.”
Amia had proved a useful tool over the last few months to learn tidbits of information. She was Magnus’s very willing eyes and ears here in the castle, and she had no qualms about eavesdropping for the prince whenever the opportunity called for it. The occasional kind word or the edge of a smile was enough to keep her loyal and eager to please. Amia believed he would keep her indefinitely as his mistress. In that she was destined to be disappointed. Unless the girl stood directly in front of him as she did right now, he tended to forget she existed.
Magnus patted her on the waist, dismissing her, and silently moved toward the stone balcony that overlooked the black sea and the rocky cliffs on which the castle and the Limeros capital perched. It was his father’s favorite spot for reflection, despite the cutting winter chill on nights like this.