Falling Kingdoms (15 page)

M
ore than a week had passed since his private conversation with the king and Magnus still didn’t know what troubled Lucia. The thought was a constant distraction to him.

Distractions weren’t recommended in the midst of his swordsmanship class. He winced as a blunt wooden practice sword landed a painful blow to his chest.

“What’s wrong, Prince Magnus?” his opponent asked with mockery edging his words. “Would you really let me win as easily as this?”

Magnus gave him a withering look. “I won’t let you win at all.”

Andreas Psellos was his complete opposite in looks despite their similar tall statures and leanly muscled builds. Where Magnus was dark, Andreas was light with fair hair and pale blue eyes. Where Magnus could never be described as “cheery,” Andreas had an easy manner and a constant smile on his handsome face that rarely held malice—

Unless he was talking to Magnus.

They’d moved away from the rest of the class, consisting of four teams of two and an absentminded tutor who tended to wander off in the middle of their sessions leaving them to practice without supervision.

“The years haven’t change you a bit,” Andreas said. “I still remember that set of painted wooden blocks we battled over when we were only five years old. I believe you threw them out of a window so I couldn’t get the chance to play with them.”

“I’ve never enjoyed sharing my toys.”

“Not with anyone but your sister.”

“She’s an exception.”

“Indeed she is. A beautiful exception.” Andreas cast a wistful look toward the black granite castle that stretched high into the blue sky. “Do you think Princess Lucia will be coming out to watch us spar like she did last time?”

“Unlikely.”

Magnus’s dark mood intensified. Not only had Andreas shown romantic interest in Lucia, but he was also the one boy who’d been mentioned several times by Queen Althea herself as a potential match. The Psellos family was rich, Andreas’s father one of the king’s royal council members, and their expansive villa, which sat only a few miles from the palace, was the finest on the western coast of Limeros.

The thought that Lucia could become betrothed to this golden boy with his easy smiles sent a rush of icy poison flowing through Magnus’s veins.

Andreas snorted. “Come on, then. I won’t hold back if you don’t.”

“Fair enough.”

As their wooden swords clashed, Magnus now paid very close attention to the swordplay, trying hard not to let his mind wander again.

Andreas’s lips thinned. “I heard that you ran Michol Trichas off when he showed interest in your sister.”

“Did you?” Magnus said with disinterest. “Are you offended on his behalf?”

“Just the opposite. He wasn’t right for her. He’s insipid and cowardly, hiding behind his mother’s skirts when any opposition presents itself. He’s not worthy of spending time with Princess Lucia.”

“We finally agree on something. How delightful.”

“However, you’ll find that I’m not quite so easily dissuaded as he was.” Their swords met and held, and Andreas’s gaze turned icy. Magnus’s muscles burned with the effort of taking the point and not allowing his rival to win. “You don’t intimidate me.”

“Not trying to.”

“You chase off all of Lucia’s suitors as if no one in Limeros is worthy of the princess’s precious time and attention.”

Magnus’s gaze snapped to Andreas’s. “No one is.”

“Apart from you, of course.” Andreas’s eyes narrowed. “I think the attention you lavish on your sister compared to any other girl is...unusual.”

Magnus went cold inside. “You’re imagining things.”

“Perhaps I am. But know this, Prince Magnus, when I want something, I get it. No matter what obstacle might present itself.”

Magnus glanced toward the castle. “It looks like I was wrong. Lucia is coming out to watch us after all.”

When Andreas’s attention moved away from Magnus, he struck. He knocked the wooden sword out of Andreas’s grip and then slammed the boy to the ground where he lay on his back looking up, temporarily stunned.

Magnus pressed the blunt tip of his practice sword to Andreas’s throat hard enough to bruise. “Actually, Lucia’s in her embroidery class right now and won’t be able to talk with you again until...well, I’m sure it’ll be quite some time. I’ll give her your regards.”

Lesson over, he threw his sword to the side and turned from the boy still sprawled on the ground to return to the castle.

Some victories didn’t taste quite as sweet as they should.

The idea that anyone, especially someone like Andreas, could guess that Magnus might have forbidden feelings for his younger sister had put a sick feeling into the pit of his stomach. He resolved to force himself to spend more time in the company of other girls to help stave off any future rumors.

And not girls like the one who approached him along the hallway with a smile stretching her rosy cheeks.

“My prince,” Amia greeted him cheerily.

He cast a look around to check if anyone was watching. Speaking openly with a servant—especially such a low-ranking one as Amia—was frowned upon by his father. To imagine King Gaius’s outraged reaction to his son doing more than talking with her was almost as humorous as it was foreboding.

“What is it?” he asked, his words clipped.

“You wanted me to keep an eye on your sister.”

With this, he grabbed hold of her arm and pulled her around a corner and into a shadowed alcove. “Speak.”

Amia twisted a piece of nut-brown hair around her finger. Her brows drew together. “It’s the strangest thing. I was sent with a tray of food up to her room for a late lunch when she returned from her class just now. Her door was ajar. I should have knocked, but since my hands were full, I didn’t. And I swear I saw...”

“What? What did you see?”

“Your sister stood before three candles and I watched as each was lit.”

Magnus stared at the girl. “That’s all? You watched my sister light some candles and you thought it worthy of mention to me? There’s nothing unusual about that.”

“No, my prince. It’s just that—I swear, I...” She shook her head, her expression one of deep confusion. “I swear that Princess Lucia didn’t light them. They lit all by themselves as she looked at them, each in turn. I was startled by this but cleared my throat to let her know I was there. She seemed disturbed that I might have been watching her, but I didn’t give her any indication of what I saw. Possessing such an ability to summon fire could mean that she’s a—” Her words cut off immediately at Magnus’s sharp look. She bit her bottom lip.

Magnus grasped the girl’s chin and looked down into her eyes. “Thank you, Amia. I want you to continue to tell me anything at all, no matter how seemingly insignificant. But know this—my sister is no witch. This was only your imagination.”

“Yes, my prince,” she whispered before he slipped away from her and began moving toward Lucia’s chambers on the third floor of the castle without another word.

Lighting candles seemed like such a common practice, but not so common if the wicks caught flame all by themselves. Once at Lucia’s door, he took a deep breath and then twisted the handle. It wasn’t locked. He slowly pushed the door open.

Lucia sat on her plush lounge, her legs folded under her, holding the head of a daisy on the palm of her hand. The frivolous gift of flowers had been sent the previous day by another random Limerian boy interested in the princess. Her concentration on the flower was so complete that she hadn’t heard the soft creak of the door.

Suddenly, the bright pink bloom rose from her hand and floated in the air as if suspended by invisible strings.

Magnus gasped out loud.

The flower dropped to the ground and Lucia’s startled gaze snapped to where he stood at the open doorway.

“Magnus.” She stood up, brushing off the front of her skirt. Her expression was tense. She beckoned to him. “Please come in.”

Hesitating only a moment longer, he pushed the door open all the way and entered her chambers.

“Close it,” she instructed. He did as she asked.

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “You saw what I just did?”

He nodded, his throat tight.

Lucia wrung her hands, pacing to her window to look outside just as a hawk flew away from its temporary perch on the edge of her balcony, its large golden wings flapping against the bright blue sky. He continued to wait, afraid to give voice to his racing thoughts.

This must be what he’d heard his father and Sabina talk about the night of her birthday banquet—of prophesies and
elementia
and signs held by the stars themselves. This was what he’d been asked to watch for.

“Lucia is now sixteen,”
Sabina had said.
“The time is drawing closer for her awakening, I know it is.”

The awakening of her magic.

It couldn’t be true.

Finally Lucia turned to him, her gaze as fierce as when she’d confronted him about what he’d said to Michol. Still hopelessly confused, Magnus opened his mouth to demand answers from her, but she walked directly to him and threw her arms around him.

“I haven’t been able to tell anyone this secret for fear of what it could mean. I’ve wanted to tell you for ages, but there’s never been the right opportunity.”

“I’m not sure what I saw.” He pressed a hand to her back to hold her close while his heart hammered in his chest. A sudden and fierce need to protect her any way he could rose to the surface. It helped to push away his own uncertainty. “You can tell me this secret, Lucia. I promise not to tell a soul.”

She let out a long, shaky breath and stepped back from his arms to look up into his face. “It started shortly before my birthday. I found that I could do things. Strange things.”

“Magic,” he said simply. The word felt foreign on his tongue.

She stared at him for a moment, her fiery and guarded expression turning bleak. Then she nodded.

“Elementia,”
he clarified.

“I believe so.” Lucia drew in a shuddery breath. “I don’t know why. Or how. But I can. And it feels as if it’s been inside me my entire life waiting for the right time to emerge. I can do what I did with the flower. I can move things without touching them. I can light candles . . . without a match.”

Magnus took this all in and tried to sort through it in his head. “You’re a witch.”

He regretted saying it as soon as the words left his mouth. She looked devastated by this possibility. Witches were persecuted in Limeros—even if only
suspected
of witchcraft. It was a dangerous thing to even suggest of someone. Here witchcraft was associated with the goddess Cleiona—an evil act committed in the name of an evil deity.

“Magnus,” she whispered. “What am I to do?”

The king would want to know this. He’d wanted Magnus to keep an eye on Lucia—and to report back anything unusual he witnessed.

This was definitely unusual.

He paced the length of the room, his mind working and reworking what he’d seen. If Lucia was anyone else, he wouldn’t hesitated in letting his father know the truth. Whatever happened then would be none of his concern.

“Show me again,” he said quietly.

After a slight hesitation, Lucia took the flower and placed it on her palm again. She looked at him and he nodded, trying to put her mind at ease.

“It’s all right,” he told her. “Don’t be afraid.”

“I’m not afraid.” She said it so firmly that it made him smile. Despite her pretty dresses and the manners of a princess, his sister had a heart forged of steel. His own steely heart pounded harder.

Lucia turned her attention to the flower. With a small crease between her eyebrows, she focused on the bloom. Slowly it rose from her hand as Magnus watched in stunned silence. It revolved slowly in the air.

“Incredible,” he breathed.

“What does this mean?” Her troubled gaze shot to his, and for the first time, he noticed the sheen in her eyes. She might say that she wasn’t afraid, but she was. And she should be.

“I don’t know.” He studied her face, fighting the strong urge take her into his arms again and hold her tight. His gaze brushed over her features—her small, straight nose, her high cheekbones, her full red lips. His mother’s eyes were a bluish-gray color, his father’s dark brown like his own. But Lucia’s eyes stood out like sapphires—like precious jewels.

She was so incredibly beautiful it took his breath away.

“What is it?” she asked. “Do you see something on my face that shows I’m touched by this evil?”

The king had taken him farther north several years ago to witness the execution of one who was accused of witchcraft. The woman had slaughtered several animals and used their blood to try to summon dark magic. The king spoke with her briefly in private and then made the final judgment on her fate. Magnus was required to watch the execution so he would learn from it. He still remembered the witch’s screams of pain and terror piercing the cold air as she was lit ablaze.

His father had turned to him and put a hand on the trembling boy’s shoulder. “Remember this, Magnus. One day you too will have to decide the fate of those accused of such darkness.”

A shudder of fear and revulsion quaked through him. He pushed back from Lucia and went to the door to check if anyone lurked outside. Then he closed the door and locked it.