For a moment she thought about jumping to the snow-dusted ground below, but then quickly put it out of her mind. Even with a generous padding of snow, she knew that a leap from this height would mean a severe injury at best, instant death at worst. With a sinking heart, she pulled the windowpane shut.
“Think, Cleo,” she muttered. There had to be a way out of there.
She wondered where Magnus was. She hadn’t seen him since their horrible argument in the throne room.
She knew the prince would be angry with her for the stunt she pulled on the balcony, but she wasn’t sorry about the message she’d delivered. And she hoped her speech succeeded in changing his mind about her, once and for all.
After receiving Jonas’s message and spending a sleepless night trying to find a way to avoid getting trapped under Kraeshian rule, Cleo came to the realization that Magnus was the only person who could keep their country safe from King Gaius and Amara and their overwhelming greed.
But now, after witnessing the force and swiftness with which the Kraeshian army had taken over the palace, she saw that her final grasp at a hopeful future had been unforgivably optimistic.
Suddenly, Cleo heard a key slip into the lock and the door creaked open.
She squinted in the torchlight to see Amara Cortas herself step inside.
She offered Cleo a big smile. “Good evening, Cleo. It seems like a very long time since I last saw you.”
“It has,” Cleo answered, offering a small smile of her own. “And I can see you’ve been very busy. I suppose I should congratulate you on your victory.”
Amara glanced at the guard standing at the doorway. “Fetch us something to drink,” she ordered. “Some Paelsian wine. Since most Limerians seem to be hypocrites about their religious beliefs, I’m sure Lord Gareth keeps a stash of it somewhere in his home.”
“Yes, Empress,” the guard said, then exited the room.
Amara turned back to Cleo. “You’re probably still angry about how we left things between you and me.”
“Anger fades, Amara. Even the most intense anger.”
“I ordered my guards to have you killed.”
“I remember. But, clearly, they failed.”
“Clearly. Truthfully, though, I’m rather glad for my guards’ shortcomings. My emotions were running very high that night. Looking back on it now, I’m ashamed of how drastically I lost my composure.”
“It’s in the past now.” Cleo held on to her smile, willing herself not to remind Amara that she’d lost more than her composure that night. She’d lost her brother—had murdered him in cold blood without any hesitation. “So, this is Lord Gareth’s home?”
“Yes. A rather quaint castle, isn’t it?”
“I wouldn’t trust Lord Gareth if I were you. And I would especially not trust his son.”
Amara laughed. “Don’t worry, I don’t trust any man.”
The Kraeshian princess moved to the window and took a seat on the sill.
“It seems we have a problem, Cleo.”
“Oh?”
“The king wants you dead. And he wants to perform the execution himself.”
A shiver shot down Cleo’s spine, but she fought to show anything but surprise on her face. “That’s . . . I . . . but I don’t understand. What kind of threat could I pose to someone as powerful as King Gaius?”
“You don’t know?” Amara raised a brow. “I thought it was obvious. My new husband believes you are the one obstacle standing in between him and his son’s loyalty. And I must say, Cleo, given your prince’s recent actions, I don’t think he’s wrong.”
“Apologies,” said Cleo, her mind reeling, “but did you just refer to the king as ‘your husband’? You’re . . . you married King Gaius?”
Amara shrugged. “My father’s idea. He thought our marriage would symbolically bind him into the Cortas bloodline, making him worthy of sharing his power.” She regarded Cleo with amusement. “Don’t look so appalled. It’s not nearly as repulsive as it sounds.”
“But he’s . . .” Cleo faltered, grasping to comprehend this strange new situation. “King Gaius . . . even apart from all the things he’s done, he’s . . .”
“Exactly like Magnus, only twice as old? That reminds me, I hope you’re not still upset about my brief dalliance with your husband. I can assure you that it meant nothing—to me, at least.”
“I couldn’t care less about such matters.”
“Of course not.”
Cleo remembered the sting she’d felt when she realized that Amara had spent the night with the prince. At the time, she’d been convinced that sting was one of annoyance, of disappointment that Magnus would so quickly jump into bed with a potential enemy.
Now she wasn’t so sure.
The guard returned, holding a bottle of wine and two goblets. “As you requested, Empress.”
“Excellent.” She gestured toward the table in the corner. “Put it down over there and leave us.”
Amara poured the wine and held a goblet out to Cleo.
She hesitated briefly, then took it.
“Don’t worry,” Amara said, “it’s not poisoned. Besides, your death wouldn’t serve me in any way. I like you much better alive.”
“That sounded almost like a compliment.” Cleo raised her glass. “To your new role as empress . . . and to you and the king.”
Amara clinked her goblet against Cleo’s and took a sip. “You would toast a man who wants you dead?”
Cleo tipped her head back and drained her glass in one gulp. “I’m toasting to the day you become a widow, to the moment you decide he’s no longer useful to you.”
Amara smiled. “You know me well.”
“I admire you, Amara. You go after what you want, and you get it, no matter what it takes.”
“My grandmother was determined to make sure I grew up believing that I was every bit as good as my brothers, even if all the men in Kraeshia thought of me as little more than a pretty bit of trimming. I am proud of my accomplishments, yes, but I’m not without regrets.”
“None of us are.”
“Tell me, Cleo,” Amara said as she refilled their goblets. “If I were to convince the king to keep you alive, would you pledge your alliance to me in return? Would you promise to stay loyal to me, from this day forward?”
Cleo froze, the delicate edge of the goblet pressed to her lips. “You would . . . why would you do that?”
“I have many reasons. I’ve also recently come to learn something very surprising about Gaius: his most important decisions are made by his heart.”
“And here I was certain he didn’t possess one.”
“It may be small and dark and cold, but it’s there. He loves his son so much that he’s willing to forgive him for even the gravest trespass of treason. He loves Lucia as well—for more than just her magic.” Amara paused and took another sip of wine, her eyes sly and gleaming. “I also learned something very interesting about his distant past. Something to do with a girl. A girl he loved with a passion that surprised even me.”
Cleo had to scoff. “Did he tell you that? He’s lying.”