“Thank you.”
“I’ve been watching you very closely of late. After a difficult childhood, I believe you have grown into a fine young man—one ready for true responsibility rather than merely the continued leisure of a young prince. I grow prouder to call you my son with every passing day.”
That his father could ever be proud of him was a shocking revelation.
“I am pleased to hear that,” he managed to say evenly.
“I want you to be a part of this. To learn all you can so one day you’ll be able to take over my throne stronger for every lesson learned. I wasn’t lying in what I said before. Family is the most important thing to me, above all else. I want you by my side. Will you agree to that?”
Had this been a developing decision for his father or was the removal of Tobias, and the means in which he was removed, enough to trigger this sudden parental attachment?
Did it really matter?
“Of course, I agree,” Magnus said. “Anything you need.”
As he said the words, he realized he actually meant them.
The king nodded. “Good.”
“Is there anything you require of me right now? Or are we to wait until the chief sends message to you of his decision?”
The king glanced at the two guards who remained in the room. A flick of his chin toward them sent them out of the room so he could speak with Magnus privately.
“There is something, although it’s not directly related to my plans for Auranos.”
“What then?”
“It’s about your sister.”
Magnus froze. “What about her?”
“I know she’s close to you. Closer than she is to either me or her mother. I want you to keep an eye on her. If you notice anything about her that strikes you as unusual, you must tell me immediately. If you fail to do this, she could be in grave danger. Do you understand?”
His breath caught. “What kind of danger?”
“I can tell you no more than that for now.” His expression shadowed. “Will you do as I ask without further question? It’s important, Magnus. Will you watch over Lucia and let me know if you notice anything at all?”
The world felt uneven and jagged beneath Magnus’s feet. He hadn’t cared about Tobias, but the bastard’s death had deeply shaken him.
Lucia, however, he did care about. Whatever his father was asking for was directly related to the conversation Magnus had overheard between the king and Sabina on the night of her birthday. One of magic and mystery. And if it put Lucia’s well-being in danger in any way, he knew there was no answer for him to give but one.
He nodded. “Of course I will, Father.”
“I’m very pleased to announce to you all”—King Corvin spoke at the front of the great hall, upon the dais, to a large crowd of friends and nobles gathered for the celebration banquet—“that my youngest daughter, Princess Cleiona Aurora Bellos, shall be united in wedlock to Lord Aron Lagaris, son of Sebastien Lagaris of Elder’s Pitch. I hope that you can join with me in celebrating this happy and joyous union. To Princess Cleo and Lord Aron!”
The crowd cheered. Cleo tried to hold back her tears as she stood at her father’s side. She couldn’t see faces anymore, only blurry shapes. But she would not cry.
“Smile, Cleo.” Aron clinked his wineglass against hers as she sat down again behind the table filled to overflowing with the royal feast. The chiming sound made her spine stiffen. “You’ll make everyone think you aren’t thrilled about this announcement.”
“I’m not, and you know it,” she said through clenched teeth.
“You’ll get used to it,” he assured her, but he didn’t sound like he cared much one way or the other. “And before you know it, it’ll be our wedding night.”
It sounded more like a threat than a promise.
It was official. She was officially betrothed.
After her unpleasant chat with Aron at his villa three weeks ago, she’d broached the subject with her father, hoping that he would allow her to dissolve the engagement before it was even publicly announced. Instead, he’d told her that it was for the best and that she needed to have faith in his ability to choose a suitable husband for his cherished daughter.
Her father, Cleo thought with growing dismay, was more in love with the idea of Aron as a son-in-law—a lord who’d allegedly jumped into battle to defend the helpless princess from a savage Paelsian peasant—than she could ever be.
Since that “talk,” the king had been too busy to speak privately with Cleo. However, happily, he’d also been too busy to make any announcement. Every day that passed without it was a gift. A chance for her to figure out a solution.
But she hadn’t. Not in time.
And here we are, she thought dismally.