“No, princess,” Magnus managed. “You made your thoughts on that quite clear, even if I strongly disagree. I wish to be reacquainted with my grandmother after all these years. She will use her magic to help us find Lucia, who will help us reclaim Mytica. Agreed?”
Cleo didn’t answer for a moment, her brow furrowed in thought. “Yes, I suppose it makes a sickening kind of sense to seek help from another Damora.” She blinked. “Magnus, you’ve become very pale. Are you all right?”
“Fine,” he said tightly. “We leave now.”
“Amara will wonder where I’ve disappeared to without word,” the king said. “That could cause problems.”
Magnus sighed. “Very well. Go and make your excuses for leaving your bride’s side. However, if you try to cross me, Father, I assure you that your death will come far sooner than you anticipate.”
CHAPTER 3
AMARA
LIMEROS
Empress Amara Cortas sat upon a carved, gilded chair in the villa’s smaller than adequate main hall. It was a temporary throne, but it did nicely to prop her up so she could easily look down upon the two very different men who kneeled before her.
Carlos was the captain of the Kraeshian guard, a man with bronzed skin and black hair, his shoulders impossibly broad. He had more than enough muscles to fully fill out his dark green Kraeshian uniform, its golden clasps, which attached the black cape, glittering in the candlelight.
Lord Kurtis Cirillo was younger, thinner, more sallow in appearance, with dark hair and olive green eyes. While Amara would prefer a larger castle to spend her current days, this villa was the finest home for miles around, and it belonged to Kurtis’s father, Lord Gareth.
“Rise,” she commanded, and they obeyed.
Both men waited for her response to the updated news of yesterday’s siege and capture of the Limerian palace.
As Amara composed her thoughts, she winced from the large and rather painful lump on the back of her head she’d acquired last night. The sack of icicles that she held to the injury had started to melt.
“Of the dozen casualties,” she finally said, “was there anyone of importance?” For this, she turned to Kurtis, who would know nobles from lessers much better than her guard.
“No, your grace,” Kurtis replied quickly. “Mostly Limerian soldiers and guards, a few servants. Only those who attempted to stand against you.”
“Good.” Twelve wasn’t an unacceptable number to perish considering how many people had allegedly been at the palace to witness Princess Cleiona’s speech at the time of the siege. From Carlos’s report, three thousand citizens from nearby villages had made the journey to hear that hateful girl spread more of her lies.
She scanned the red and black banners lining the stone walls bearing the Cirillo family crest: three snakes entwined. For a kingdom of ice and snow that supported very little wildlife that Amara had noticed, Limerians did seem to value images of serpents.
“Your grace . . .” Kurtis’s reedy voice chirped.
“Yes, Lord Kurtis?”
The young man’s face was pained, his mouth set in a grimace that had become familiar to her in her short time in Mytica. She wondered whether this was a permanent look for the kingsliege or whether it was due to the unfortunate injury he sustained just before she met him. There were fresh bandages on the bloody stump at his wrist where his right hand used to be. “I hesitate to broach a subject that Carlos believes we mustn’t bother you with.”
“Oh?” She glanced with surprise at her guard, who looked at Kurtis with naked hatred in his steely gaze. “What is it?”
“I’ve heard concerning talk amongst your soldiers about your reign—”
“My lord,” Carlos bit out, “if there is a problem with the men I command, I will come to the empress myself. This matter does not need the opinion of a Limerian.”
Kurtis scoffed, as if insulted by Carlos’s bluntness. “Does the empress not deserve to know that her own soldiers speak of abandoning their posts rather than be ruled by”—he hesitated, but only for a moment—“a woman?”
Amara willed herself to be calm as she handed the melting ice to a nearby maid. “Carlos, is this true?”
The guard looked ready to spit molten glass. “It is, your grace.”
“Yet you don’t feel this is a concern?”
“Talk is talk. None have taken any action as yet to leave this mission to return to Kraeshia. And if they do, they will be severely punished.”
She studied the man’s face, a man who had been loyal to her father not so very long ago. “How do you feel about having me as the first female ruler of Kraeshia? Will you continue to take my orders without wishing to abandon your post?”
He straightened those massive shoulders. “I am loyal to Kraeshia, your grace, therefore I am loyal to whoever is on the throne. I assure you, I have control over my men.”