Magnus’s very bones shook. The hilt of the dagger felt like ice against his skin. “That was not your only option.”
“Yes, it was. I know some of my decisions have been harsh, but they’ve all been necessary.”
Lucia had told Magnus that their mother wanted her dead because she feared her magic, that she’d been giving Lucia a potion to keep her asleep for so long . . . but Magnus didn’t believe that was reason enough for the king to murder her. Punish, yes. Banish, perhaps. But death? It didn’t make sense to him and it never would.
“But Mother—” he began.
“Althea wasn’t your real mother.”
The blunt statement hit Magnus like a fist to his gut. “What?”
The king gazed at him steadily. “She lost the baby she believed was you and went mad with grief. Shortly before this, another child had been born of my seed, and I gave that child—you—to her. You brought her back from the brink of insanity. She believed she was your mother up until her last breath, but she was never of your blood.”
Magnus stared at him, his mind reeling. “You’re lying.”
“Your true mother was Sabina.”
He felt gut-punched again, and he staggered back from the king in horror. Sabina, his father’s mistress, an evil, power-hungry witch. Dead now, killed by Lucia’s magic. “Another lie! Sabina tried to kill me—she tried to kill me after she tried to seduce me.”
The king lowered his brow. “She was a complicated woman, I’ll admit that much. Her passions sometimes went beyond what even I could understand. But it doesn’t change the truth. You’re mine and Sabina’s only son. She hid her pregnancy from everyone. Only Sabina, I, and the midwife who helped you into this world ever knew what really happened.”
“No.” Bile rose in Magnus’s throat. The world had shifted on its axis; the ground was now unsteady beneath his feet.
The king gripped Magnus’s shoulders so tightly he winced. “You have the blood of both a witch and a king running through your veins. Every witch has ancestral ties to the Watchers. You have that. That is why I’ve always seen something special in you, something superior.”
Magnus couldn’t accept this. All his life he’d known Sabina as his father’s mistress and advisor, but to Magnus she’d never been more than another irrelevant presence he’d had to tolerate. He hadn’t mourned her death for a moment. He’d hated her.
She would never be his mother.
Magnus’s stomach was in knots, his heart a dark, heavy weight in his chest.
He wanted to drink. To allow that pleasant fog to spread through his mind until it obliterated all thoughts. “Why haven’t you told me this before?”A shadow of reverie crossed the king’s face, making him appear older than his years. “I should have. I’m sorry I didn’t. But now you see that Althea had no true claim over you. You are free of any lasting allegiance to her. She was a cruel and heartless woman. She always was.”
No, she wasn’t, Magnus thought. Not always.
“So often I saw how starved you were for the love of a mother who wouldn’t give affection to you. Her mind was faulty, her sanity shaky, especially these last eighteen years. All of this led her to make the mistakes that sealed her fate. She was standing in my way. In your way. You must accept these truths if we have any chance of moving forward. You are my son. My heir. We are one and the same.”
To be like the king—strong, ruthless, dominant, relentless in pursuit of his goals. This was what he’d always wanted.
And Sabina had been the same in so many ways.
“Everything I do is for you, Magnus. Everything. Please forgive me for withholding this truth from you and for anything I’ve done that has hurt you in the past. My only goal was to make you stronger. I love you, my son.”
The king pulled Magnus close in a tight embrace. Magnus stood like a statue, stony and silent, his mind trapped in turmoil.
He let the dagger fall from his grip and clatter to the floor.
His father had never embraced him like this before.
And for just a moment before he pulled away to leave the throne room, Magnus let him.
CHAPTER 12
JONAS
AURANOS
Jonas’s mood was as black as the night sky.
That evening he was in a village called Viridy, a half-day’s journey northeast of the City of Gold. It wasn’t his first visit; he had begun to use a tavern there as a central meeting place. He’d sent Felix on ahead to meet him there tonight, while he had spent the last day and a half following a whispered rumor about some rebels and a group of Paelsian slaves who’d escaped from the road camp alive. But that rumor had proven to be false.
Even though King Gaius’s rule brought out a palpable edge of uneasiness amongst the people, affluence still glittered in Viridy like gold, much like every other Auranian town Jonas had visited. The streets were paved not in dirt and rock, but sparkling cobblestones. The storefronts were made not of clay, but of sturdy stone and wood.
This was the home of thousands of citizens who paid high taxes to whichever king sat his royal arse on the throne, but still they lived well. No one starved, wandering the streets in rags searching for their next meal. No one froze in alleys because they were denied warmth or shelter during a cold winter’s night, as they did in Paelsia.
But unlike someone who’d actually experienced pain and squalor, the people here didn’t appreciate what they had. That they took it all for granted put a sour taste in Jonas’s mouth. He had no doubt they’d collectively crumple if their easy lifestyles were ever stolen from them.