A small eternity later, which was actually no more than half a day, they finally—and thankfully—arrived at their destination.
Magnus had heard many stories about Basilia, the closest thing Paelsia had to a capital city. The city served ships visiting Trader’s Harbor and stir-crazy crew members eager to disembark their vessels in search of food, drink, and women.
The stories rang true.
At first glance—and smell—Basilia was vastly overpopulated and stunk of both human waste and corruption. Dozens of ships were docked in the harbor, their crews flooding the shores and mingling in the streets, taverns, inns, markets, and brothels of the seaside city. And it seemed every bit as hot as Auranos at the height of summer.
“Disgusting.”
Magnus glanced over to see that King Gaius had opened the carriage’s window to peer out at the city center with distaste. His eyes were bloodshot, and the dark circles beneath them looked like fresh bruises against the sickly paleness of his complexion.
“I despise this place,” he said.
“Really?” Magnus replied, guiding his horse alongside the carriage. “I find it rather charming.”
“No, you don’t.”
“I do. I like this . . . local color.”
“You’re not nearly as good of a liar as you might believe.”
“I suppose I can only aspire to be as accomplished at deceit as you have been.”
The king glared at him, then shifted his gaze to Cleo, who was riding in front of Magnus and behind the guards. “Princess, if I recall correctly, it was a market not so far from this very city where you found yourself with Lord Aron Lagaris and the wine seller’s son he killed, yes?”
Magnus immediately grew tense as he looked to the princess for her response. She didn’t reply for several seconds, but he could see her shoulders were tense through the thin material of her dress.
“That was a long time ago,” she said finally.
“Imagine how differently things might have turned out had you not been lusting after wine that day,” the king continued. “Nothing would be as it is now, would it?”
“No,” she said, glancing over her shoulder to meet his gaze. “For instance, you would not have fallen to your near-death after forfeiting your kingdom to a woman. And I wouldn’t be watching your failure with the greatest joy in my heart.”
Magnus fought a smile as he eyed his father, waiting for his rebuttal.
The only reply was the shuttering of the window, blocking the view of his father’s face.
The carriage rolled to a stop at a place called the Hawk and Spear Inn that, though it stank slightly of sweat and a mysterious kind of musk, Magnus deemed the most acceptable establishment in town. King Gaius, assisted out of the carriage and into the inn by Milo and Enzo, and trailed by Selia, quickly bribed the innkeeper to evict all of his guests so that the royal party could have ultimate privacy.
As the former guests filed out in a parade of grumbles, Magnus watched Cleo look around at the Paelsian inn’s meeting hall with displeasure. It was a low-ceilinged, large room that had many worn wooden chairs and chipped tables at which guests could eat and lounge with their companions.
“Not up to your high standards?” Magnus asked.
“It’s fine,” she replied
“It’s not an Auranian inn with feather beds, imported linens, and golden chamber pots. But it seems acceptably clean and comfortable to me.”
Cleo turned from a table into which someone had roughly carved a set of initials. The glimmer of a smile touched her lips. “Yes, to a Limerian, I suppose it would.”
“Indeed.” The princess’s lips were far too distracting, so Magnus turned and joined his father and grandmother, who stood by the large windows looking out at the stables where their horses were being tended to.
“So now what to do we do?” Magnus asked his grandmother.
“I’ve asked the innkeeper’s wife to go to the tavern down the road and deliver a message to my old friend to come here,” Selia said.
“You can’t go there yourself?”
“She might not recognize me. Also, this is not a conversation to have where there are curious ears likely to overhear. The magic I seek must be protected at any cost.” She put a hand on Gaius’s arm. There was a sheen of perspiration on the king’s forehead, and he leaned against the wall as if it was the only thing keeping him vertical.
“And until then what shall we do?” Gaius asked in a voice that had weakened substantially since their arrival.
“You will rest,” Selia told him.
“There’s no time for rest,” he said grimly. “Perhaps I will inquire if there’s a carpenter nearby who can create a coffin in which to transport me back to Limeros.”
“Come now, Father,” Magnus said, allowing himself a wry smile. “I’m happy to do that for you. You should do as Grandmother says and rest.”
The king glared at him but didn’t speak again.
“I’ll take you to your room.” Selia put her arm around her son, leading him through the hall, toward the stairs, and up to the rooms on the second floor.