The sound of his name cut into the space between them like the sharp edge of an ax driving into a wooden block.
“I know his presence here must be difficult for you,” Magnus said, his throat tightening. “His face . . . all the horrible memories it suggests . . .”
“The only horrible memory I have of Taran is that of his blade pressed to your throat.” Cleo paused, searching Magnus’s face as her frown deepened. “Do you assume that when I look at him I see only Theon?”
“How could you not?”
“I admit that it was jarring to see him. But Theon’s gone. I know that. I’ve made peace with it. Taran is not Theon. He is, however, a threat.”
“I see.”
“Do you?” Cleo continued to study him intently, as if he were a riddle she needed to decipher. “Yet you honestly thought that I would see him and forget everything else that’s happened since that day? That the hatred I used to feel for you would return and blind me? That I . . . what? Would instantly fall in love with Taran Ranus?”
“It does sound quite ludicrous.”
Her expression grew thoughtful. “Well, Taran is very handsome. Apart from the fact that he wants you dead—which was, admittedly, a former goal of mine—he would make a perfect suitor.”
“Tormenting me must be very amusing for you.”
“Very,” she teased, allowing him a small but slightly sad smile. She reached for his hands, the sensation of her warm skin against his like a salve to a painful wound. “Nothing has changed between us, Magnus. Know that.”
Her words comforted his aching soul. “I’m very glad to hear that. When might you share this sentiment with the others?”
Immediately, her expression grew tense. “This isn’t the time. There’s far too much at stake right now.”
“Nic is your closest family, your dearest friend, and he despises me.”
“He still sees you as an enemy. But one day, I know he’ll change his mind.”
“And if he doesn’t?” He searched her gaze. “What then?”
“What do you mean?”
“Choices, princess. Life seems to be all about them.”
“You’re asking me to choose between you and Nic?”
“If he refuses to accept . . . this, whatever this is, princess, then I suppose you would have to choose.”
“And you?” she finally said after several long moments of pensive silence. “Whom would you choose, if someone or something forced you? Would it be me? Or Lucia? I know very well she was your first love. Perhaps you still love her like that.”
Magnus groaned. “I assure you, there’s nothing of the sort between Lucia and me. And as far as she’s concerned, there never was.”
His heart had evolved so dramatically over the last few months that he had to wonder if he was still the same person who had once pined away for his adopted sister. Though it had taken on a new form, that love for her was still there within him. No matter what Lucia might do or say, Magnus loved her unconditionally and was ready to forgive her for any misdoings.
But the desire he’d once had for her . . . his heart had utterly and permanently shifted to someone else—someone far more frustrating and dangerous to him than his adopted sister had ever been.
“She did choose to run away with her tutor, after all,” Cleo reminded him.
His lips thinned. “Yes, and now the fate of the world rests on whether or not we find where she’s run off to.” Cleo looked at him, skepticism plain in her stare. “What, princess?” he asked. “You have doubts?”
“I . . .” Cleo started, then paused to stare down at her feet as if deep in thought. “Magnus, I’m just not sure she’s the singular solution you seem to be counting on.”
“She has dealings with the fire Kindred. I believe she must know how to draw the magic from the Kindred without also allowing the elemental god to escape.”
“Seems to me that she’s the one who helped Kyan escape if they’re traveling together. She has to be.”
“Perhaps. But her magic is vast.”
“Vast enough to kill us all.”
“You’re wrong,” Magnus said without hesitation. “She wouldn’t do that. She will help us—help everyone.” Whenever he spoke glowingly of Lucia, he noticed Cleo would purse her lips and crease her brow as if she’d tasted something sour.
Could she really be jealous of how I feel about Lucia? he wondered, with a sliver of amusement.
“I see thoughts of your adopted sister bring a rare smile to your face,” she said, her words clipped and her tone unpleasant. “I’m sure thinking of her provides a lovely escape for you during this trying time, while we’re stuck here in Paelsia, surrounded by rebels who would jump at the chance to burn this inn—and all the royals within it—to the ground.”
“Is that Agallon’s nefarious plan?” he asked, now pursing his lips and creasing his brow. “What else has he whispered to you in the dark of night since arriving here?”
“Very little, actually.”