Cleo took a moment to study the king who spoke lies so easily. If he were anyone else, anyone at all, she would be concerned for his health. Even during their short, unpleasant conversation, his face had grown paler, his voice drier and raspier. His broad shoulders were now hunched over.
She celebrated his decline and would equally celebrate his death. If he expected anything else from her, he would be sorely disappointed.
But his eyes—clear, steady, cruel—held no deception that she could see.
“You can see the truth,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Elena could too, all too often, when it came to me. She knew me better than anyone else.”
“You don’t deserve to speak her name.”
“That’s quite an accusation, princess, especially considering it was you who murdered her.”
Cleo’s eyes began to sting as the weight of the guilt she’d always carried with her—that her life came at the price of her mother’s death—rose up in her chest and crushed her. “If what you say is true, the curse is what killed her.”
“It certainly helped. But it was you who stole Elena’s life. Your sister didn’t succeed, but you did.”
Each word felt like a blow. “Enough of this. I won’t stand here for another moment and let you insult me, intimidate me, and lie to me. Listen to me very clearly: If you so much as attempt to harm me or Magnus again, I promise I will kill you myself.”
With that, Cleo turned away and started toward the stairs, not caring if she had to wait another eternity for breakfast. She refused to be in the King of Blood’s poisonous presence for another moment.
“And you listen to me, princess.” Gaius’s voice followed her like a rancid odor. “This love you think you feel for my son? The day will come when you will have to choose between Magnus and power. And I know, without a doubt, that you will choose power.”
CHAPTER 6
JONAS
THE SILVER SEA
On the third day at sea, Jonas stood with Nic at the bow of the King of Blood’s ship, its black and red sails catching the wind that would return them to Mytica in four more days. Olivia, in hawk form, kept a watch upon him from above as she did for most of the day, her large golden wings stretched out as she soared.
He wished he could turn into a hawk so he could be that much quicker in his return. Life aboard a ship was not for him; the constant rocking motion beneath his feet was disorienting and made his stomach churn. Although, he had to admit, he was doing better than some. Felix hung over the railing to their right, his face an ugly shade of green.
“He wasn’t kidding about his seasickness,” Nic said.
“No, he certainly wasn’t,” Jonas replied.
“I feel bad for him.”
“He’ll survive.”
“Fearsome assassin, you said? Didn’t he hunt bounties for King Gaius?”
“That’s right. Former fearsome assassin for King Gaius. Currently fighting the good fight as he embarks on a long and arduous path to redemption. And also currently heaving his breakfast into the sea as an offering to any fish who may give assistance.”
“I can hear you, you know,” Felix managed as he clung to the railing at the edge of the ship.
Jonas tried to repress a grin, the first one he’d felt on his face in ages. “Yes, we know.”
“This isn’t funny,” Felix growled.
“I’m not laughing. Not out loud, anyway.”
Felix said something unintelligible but unmistakably unpleasant under his breath, then groaned. “Can someone please kill me and put me out of this misery?”
“I volunteer,” said Taran as he descended from the crow’s nest. He’d insisted on climbing up there, displacing a crew member, to keep a lookout for any Kraeshian vessels.
“Shut up,” Felix snarled. Then his face tensed, and he threw himself against the railing to be sick again.
Jonas grimaced. “Anything I can do to help?”
“Just . . . leave me . . . to die.”
“Fair enough.” He turned away from his sick friend to regard Taran as he picked up the sword he’d left at the bottom of the pole. “What are you up to now, might I ask?”
“I’m going to sharpen my sword.”
“It seems like you’ve been sharpening that blade since we set sail.”
Taran glanced at him. “And . . . ?”
“Must be the sharpest blade ever, ready to kill those who deserve it,” Nic said, sharing a knowing look with Taran. “Well done.”
Jonas sighed and took Nic by his bicep, directing him out of Taran’s earshot. “We need to talk.”
Nic slipped away from Jonas’s grip. “About what?”
“Your hate of Magnus is consuming you, and it’s becoming a problem.”
Nic scowled. “Really? How odd that you’d say that, since I haven’t mentioned that bucket of scum in days. Besides, since when did you become his majesty’s personal bodyguard?”
The thought was ludicrous. “I’m not. But the prince sent me to Kraeshia to kill his father. We’re in an alliance with him.”
“You might be in an alliance with that monster, but I’m not.” Nic’s cheeks flushed as he jabbed a finger in Taran’s direction. “Magnus killed his brother. Your so-called alliance has nothing to do with either me or him.”