“She certainly was.” The king turned away from him and wistfully looked out the tavern windows at the dark city street outside. Magnus could see the faintest smile on his ghostly pale lips.
The realization hit him hard. “You were in love with her,” Magnus said, shocked at his own words but knowing it had to be true. “You were in love with Cleo’s mother.” This accusation drew the king’s gaze back to him, his bloodshot eyes widening slightly as if with surprise. Magnus took a moment to absorb this silent confirmation and another sip of his wine to aid his suddenly dry throat. “It must have been a very long time ago, back when you were capable of such a pure emotion.”
The smile quickly disappeared from his father’s pale, sickly face. “It was a lifetime ago. Such weakness nearly destroyed me, which is exactly why I wanted to watch out for you.”
Magnus laughed at this, a loud bellowing sound that surprised even him. “Watch out for me? Oh, Father, don’t waste your breath on such lies.”
The king slammed his fist down on the bar top. “Are you blind? Utterly blind? Everything I’ve ever done has been for you!”
The force of his sudden anger made Magnus spill some of his drink down the front of his tunic. He glared at the man. “How odd that I forgot that when you chose to end my life—and the life of my mother.”
“Death would be a relief from this world for many of us.”
“I will not forget anything that you’ve done, starting with this.” Magnus pointed to the scar on his right cheek. “Do you remember that day as clearly as I do?”
The king’s jaw tensed. “I remember.”
“I was seven years old. Seven. Have you for one moment regretted it?”
The king’s eyes narrowed. “You shouldn’t have tried to steal from the Auranian palace. It would have caused great embarrassment had you been successful.”
“Seven years old!” Magnus’s throat hurt as he practically yelled it. “I was a mere child making a mistake, tempted by something shiny and pretty when I was used to living a bland, gray life in a bland, gray palace. No one would have known that I’d taken that dagger! What difference did it make?”
“I would have known,” the king hissed. “That dagger you wished to steal belonged to Elena. I would have known because I was the one who gave it to her, back when I was a foolish boy trying to woo a beautiful girl. I didn’t know she’d kept it, that she’d cherished and displayed it all the time we’d been apart. When I saw it in your hand six years after her death . . . I didn’t think. I just reacted.”
Magnus found he had no immediate reply. To have these questions answered after so long, he couldn’t process it quick enough. “That doesn’t excuse what you did.”
“No, of course it doesn’t.”
Magnus tore his attention away from the king and tried to focus on something, anything else. It helped to notice that the world went on beyond this conversation. A large man walked toward the bar with an armful of empty cups, his tunic riding up high enough to show a hairy belly. A barmaid coyly slapped the hand of a sailor away. The musicians in the far corner played a lively song, and many clapped along. Several others danced on a tabletop.
“Power is all that matters, Magnus. Legacy is all that matters.” The king said it as if trying to convince himself of this. “Without it we’re no better than a Paelsian peasant.”
He’d heard these platitudes so many times they’d become no more than words that held no true meaning. “Tell me, did Elena Bellos love you in return, or was it a sad and hopeless obsession that turned both your heart and soul to solid ice?”
His father didn’t answer for so long that Magnus thought he might have stood up and left. He turned his gaze away from the busy tavern to be sure the king was still beside him.
“She loved me,” he finally said, his voice nearly inaudible. “But that love wasn’t enough to solve our problems.”
Magnus clenched his goblet. “Are you going to tell me a tale of love and loss now—about a boy meeting a girl?”
“No.”
The thought that his father would dangle this epic love story before him without sharing it fully was as expected as it was frustrating.
“Then why are you even here?”
“To share the lesson I learned. Love is pain. Love is death. And love strips one of their power. Had I to do it all over again, I wish I’d never met Elena Corso. I’ve since come to despise her.”
“How romantic. Since she married Corvin Bellos, I assume she felt the same.”
“I’m sure she did. And now, I’m reminded of her every day of all that I’ve lost by that deceptive little creature, Cleo. She has become your fatal weakness, Magnus.”