Rebel Spring A Falling Kingdoms(112)

“What are you reading?” Lucia asked, cocking her head so she could make out the gilded titles stamped onto the leather spines. “A History of Elementia. My goodness. That sounds like a strange choice of book for one who doesn’t believe in magic.”

“Yes, doesn’t it?” Cleo’s knuckles whitened on the edge of the large book. “It was one of my sister’s favorites. Reading such things makes me feel that her spirit is close, guiding me.”

This conversation was far more work than Lucia expected it to be. There was a time, back before the battle that had put this kingdom in her father’s hands, that Lucia had imagined their meeting, hoping that they might become close friends. She’d begun to doubt that possibility now. She strained to read the title of the second, smaller book, which was covered in dust, as though Cleo had unearthed it from a long-forgotten stack, and her heart began to pound harder. “Song of the Sorceress. What is that about?”

Cleo glanced down at it. “Poetry about a powerful sorceress who lived at the time of the goddesses. Her name was—well, your middle name . . . Eva. Quite a coincidence, isn’t it?”

Lucia’s throat tightened. “Yes, quite.”

This was a book she needed.

“I should probably leave you to your own book search. I’d say you have permission to borrow whatever you like, but I don’t suppose you need it, do you?”

There was just a drop of acid contained within those words. Lucia was pleased by it; pleased to know that the girl was not all she appeared—a polite and perfectly poised princess. She wore masks, the same kind that Lucia and Magnus did. Was it possible to be a member of a royal family and not have such a tool at the ready? Thinking this, Lucia felt her heart soften toward the other girl once again.

“I know this is all difficult for you,” Lucia said, touching Cleo’s arm as she moved past her. “I understand.”

“Do you?” Cleo smiled, but her eyes were cold. “How nice to know of your empathy for my situation.”

“If you need to talk, please know that I’m here for you.”

“As I am for you.”

Something caught Lucia’s eye then and she looked down at Cleo’s hand.

“Your ring.” She frowned. “Is it . . . glowing?”

Cleo took a step back, her face growing pale. She glanced down at her ring, a delicate golden filigree with a large purple stone she wore on the index finger of her right hand. She adjusted the books so her hand was now shielded. “A trick of the light, I’m sure. Nothing more.”

How strange. “Well, in any case, I hope to see much more of you from now on.”

“Yes. I feel the same way. Since we’re now sisters.”

Was it only her imagination too that the word was delivered as sharp as a dagger?

“Do you know when Magnus will be back?” Lucia asked.

“Didn’t he tell you?”

“No.”

“I was under the impression that your brother shared everything with you.”

Lucia pressed her lips together, choosing not to answer. There was a time when this would have been true. Lately, however . . .

The thought that she’d lost her brother’s confidence suddenly pained her, an ache she felt deep in her heart.

“To answer your question,” Cleo said, “I don’t know when he will be back. I can only hope it will be soon.”

“Do you miss him?”

Cleo’s smile held. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Lucia regarded the girl for a moment before she spoke again. “Who would have thought that two people so very different would find love in the midst of this landscape of conflict.”

Cleo’s gaze was continually moving, over Lucia, over their surroundings. She was alert, this princess. And Lucia sensed there was much more behind those innocent-looking eyes than anyone might believe.

“Who indeed? You’re very lucky to have grown up with an older brother like Magnus.”

“Yes. Just as you’re lucky to get the chance to spend the rest of your life by his side.”

“Indeed.”

Lucia watched her carefully, searching for any sign of deception. Was this true? Was Cleo actually happily in love with Magnus and he with her?

Impossible.

“He can be difficult,” Lucia warned. “Moody. Temperamental. Argumentative.”

“Who isn’t, at times?”

“He’s very forgiving, though.” Lucia arched a brow. “After all, he forgave you your unfortunate and shameful loss of chastity to Lord Aron Lagaris, didn’t he?”

Cleo blinked, the only sign that her words had come as an unexpected slap. Lucia took a measure of joy from that but knew it was petty.