This place, though . . . it felt like magic.
Aron caught Magnus’s eye. There was now a sour look on the lord’s face.
“I’m so pleased for you,” Aron said, his voice tight. “May you and Princess Cleo have many wonderful years together.”
“I can only pray I will be able to make her as happy as you would have,” Magnus replied wryly.
“Of course.” There was a catch to Aron’s voice as if he wished to say much more than this. Wisely, he didn’t.
The king approached. “Well, well. I’m so glad to see the two of you are becoming good friends.”
“How could we not?” Magnus said. “We have so much in common.”
“Go find Cronus,” the king said to Aron, referring to the captain of the palace guard, “and tell him to ready the carriages to bring us back to the city.”
“Yes, your majesty.” Aron bowed, then turned to hurry out of the temple.
Magnus couldn’t help but ask. “Why do you tolerate him?”
“He amuses me.”
“Certainly worth an appointment to kingsliege. Amusement.”
“He does whatever I ask. Perhaps you could learn much from him.” It was delivered lightly but felt more like a lead weight than a feather.
“I don’t have much of a taste for licking boots.”
“Or for unexpected public displays of death, it would seem. You didn’t approve of what I did outside, did you?”
Magnus measured his next words. “He spoke out against you publicly. Of course he deserved to die.”
“I’m glad we agree. I do think it was meant to be. A splash of blood on the starting point of my road is symbolic—a fitting sacrifice for a chance to find the ultimate treasure.”
Finally, a topic worth discussing further. “Have you had any luck in your search?”
“Not yet. We’ve only begun, my son. Patience will do us both good in many areas.”
Patience? Not exactly something his father had ever possessed in spades.
“Of course,” Magnus said instead, moving toward the smooth white wall and absently tracing the etching of the symbol for fire, a repeating motif throughout the temple, with the tip of his finger. “You’re speaking of my impatience with Lucia’s recovery, too, aren’t you?”
“I am.”
“The attendant said that Lucia had stirred in her sleep yesterday, and she believed she would awaken. But then she didn’t, of course. Mother, did you know this?”
Queen Althea drew closer. “Yes, I was there. It’s happened before. Every few days she stirs, she murmurs as if she’s dreaming. And then she goes silent again.”
“You visit her bedside regularly,” the king said. It wasn’t posed as a question since he already knew the answer. The king knew everything that happened within the palace walls.
“Daily.” She nodded. “I read to her. She looks so peaceful I can sometimes fool myself that she’s only sleeping. I still have faith she’ll return to us soon, that she’s not lost to us forever.”
The king scoffed. “You try to make it sound as if you haven’t resented her existence since the day she was brought to Limeros.”
“I haven’t resented her.” The queen patted her graying hair, as if it might have come loose from the tight twist that drew her skin taut at her temples. “I love our daughter as if she was of my own womb.”
King Gaius gazed to the left at a fresco mural of a large sun shining down over the City of Gold and its inhabitants. “How interesting that it’s taken this tragedy to finally bring out your maternal instincts. For sixteen years you’ve ignored Lucia or treated her like a rag doll you can dress up and show off. I thank the goddess that she was a natural beauty; otherwise I imagine you’d have demoted her to servant girl a long time ago.”
Magnus saw his mother’s subtle flinch, which told him the king’s words cut deeply. But he couldn’t totally disagree with them.
“When she wakes I’ll be different with her,” the queen said softly. “I’ve seen the error of my ways and wish to make amends. I do care for Lucia—truly, I do. And I swear to the goddess I shall prove it.”
“That’s the spirit,” the king said, although his words were cold. “I have a new healer arriving tomorrow to take a look at her. I want her at the wedding if possible.”
“If it’s not, I’ll stay by her bedside.”
The king was silent for a moment. “No. You will attend the wedding either way.”
The queen fiddled with the sleeve of her dark green cloak. She frowned so deeply that deep lines appeared between her brows. “I don’t trust the Bellos girl, Gaius. There’s something in the girl’s eyes—something dark and sharp. I fear what she means to do to us. What she might do to Lucia or Magnus.”