“No, not me. I have nothing of the sort at my disposal.”
Disappointment thudded through him. “If you are aware that witches are real, do you know much about the legend of the Kindred?”
“Only that it’s a bedtime story I told my daughter when she was a child.” Basha took another deep drink of the wine, then frowned at him. “Why do you wish to know so much about magic and witches? Who are you?”
Magnus was spared from answering by a commotion at the door. A pair of men entered the tavern, laughing and boisterous. “Wine for everyone,” one of them announced as they moved toward the barkeep. “I’ve been appointed the official florist for the royal wedding and wish to celebrate my good fortune!”
An excited cheer resonated through the tavern, and the man was slapped on his back and offered words of congratulations-except for one gray-haired man at the bar.
“Bah,” he said. Wrinkles splayed out from the corners of his eyes and down his hollow cheeks. “You’re all fools to buy in to such romantic drivel. The prince of Limeros and the princess of Auranos are a match made in the darklands by the darkest demon himself.”
Magnus hid his raised eyebrows in a deep swallow of cider.
“I disagree,” the florist said, his enthusiasm undeterred. “I think King Gaius is right-such a union will aid relations between our kingdoms and help push forward into a bright and prosperous future for us all.”
“Yes, relations between kingdoms. Kingdoms that he now controls with little resistance, apart from a few scattered rebel groups who don’t know their arses from holes in the ground by what little they’ve done to rise up against the King of Blood.”
The florist paled. “I caution you against speaking so freely in public.”
The old man snorted. “But if we are ruled by such a wondrous king as you believe, I should be able to speak my mind wherever and whenever I like. No? But perhaps I’ve seen more years and more troubles than the rest of you young people. I know lies when I hear them, and that king speaks them whenever his lips are moving. In a dozen years, he reduced the citizens of Limeros to a shivering mass afraid to speak out against him or break any of his rules for fear of death. You think he’s changed in a matter of months?” He drained his glass angrily. “No, he sees our vast numbers when compared to his legion of guards. He sees that we are a force to be reckoned with if we ever were to stand up against him united. So he must keep us happy and quiet. Ignorance is a trait shared by many Auranians-always has been. It sickens me to my very soul.”
The florist’s smile had tightened. “I’m sorry you can’t share in the joy the rest of us feel. I for one am greatly anticipating Prince Magnus and Princess Cleiona’s wedding-and their upcoming tour across the kingdom. And I know the majority of Auranians feel the same.”
“The princess is currently held captive by rebels. You really think there will be a wedding?”
The florist’s eyes grew glossy and a hush fell upon the tavern. “I have hope she will be rescued unharmed.”
The old man snorted. “Hope. Hope is for fools. One day you will see that I am right and you are wrong. When your golden days tarnish and the King of Blood shows his true face behind the mask he wears to appease the soft, ignorant masses in this once great land.”
The mood in the tavern had grown more somber the longer this man spoke. Magnus looked away from the argument to realize that Basha was staring at him, her brows drawn tightly together.
“That’s who you remind me of, young man. You look a great deal like Prince Magnus, the son of the king.”
She’d said it loud enough to gain the attention of other nearby tables. A dozen pairs of eyes now fixed upon him.
“I’ve been told that before, but I assure you I am not.” He rose from his seat at the table. “Much gratitude for the information you’ve given me, Basha.” Although, nothing worthwhile. Only more disappointment. “I wish you a good day.”
He departed the tavern, looking neither left nor right, pulling his cowl closer around his face.
• • •
Magnus’s head ached by the time he returned to the palace. It was late in the day and the sun was setting. On his way from the stables, his path crossed with that of Aron Lagaris.
“Prince Magnus,” Aron said. His voice sounded different, stronger. Perhaps the boy was taking his new station seriously and had refrained from drinking a bucket of wine already today. “Where have you been?”
Magnus leveled his gaze with Aron’s. “My father seems oddly fond of you as his newest kingsliege, but has he suddenly assigned you to become my keeper?”
“No.”
“My personal bodyguard?”
“Uh. . no.”
“Then where I have been is none of your concern.”
“Of course not.” Aron cleared his throat. “However, I should let you know that your father wants to see you immediately upon your return from. . wherever it is you’ve been.”
“Does he now? Then far be it for me to keep the king waiting another moment.”
Aron did an awkward half bow, which Magnus ignored as he swept past him. A day that started with nightmares and disappointment did not seem to be improving.
The king stood outside his throne room, his favorite hound next to him. He spoke quietly with Cronus. As soon as he spotted Magnus, he sent the guard away with a flick of his wrist.
“What is it?” Magnus asked, frowning.
The king acknowledged his son with a nod. “You should know that Princess Cleiona has returned to us.”
It was the last thing he expected to hear. “She has? How is this possible?”
“She escaped from the rebels after an attack on their camp last night. She ran into the forest, hid from her captors, and made her way into the custody of my team of guards. She’s shaken but unharmed.”
This news came as a strange relief. “A miracle.”
“Is it?” The king pressed his lips together. “I’m not sure about that.”
“I was certain they’d kill her.”
“As was I. And yet, they didn’t. It leaves me with certain suspicions. A girl of sixteen without any survival skills finds herself in the hands of violent rebels who are currently making their home in the thick of the Wildlands. Yet she easily escapes? Without a bruise or a scratch? Now that I know the leader’s name in this particular group of heathens, this leaves me with many questions.”
“Who is the leader?”
“Jonas Agallon.”
It took Magnus a moment to place the name. “The wine seller’s son from Paelsia. The one with the murdered brother. He was a scout for Chief Basilius.”
“That’s right.”
“Who told you this? The princess?”
“No-in fact, she claims to have been kept secluded during her captivity and did not see any of the rebels’ faces. My guards were unable to find the princess specifically, but in their travels they did uncover some information about the rebels. This was one piece of information.”
Magnus considered all of this. “Are you saying that you believe her to now be aligned with the rebels?”
“Let’s just say that I plan to keep a very close eye on her in the days ahead, and you should do the same. Especially with the wedding so close now.”
A muscle in Magnus’s cheek twitched. “Of course. The wedding.”
“Is there a problem with that?”
“None at all.” He turned to study the Limerian coat of arms that now adorned the wall, which included the image of a cobra and a pair of crossed swords. “That she has returned in time for the wedding makes me believe she is in no way aligned with these rebels. I would think she would have liked to avoid such a ceremony if she could, even if it meant remaining among their kind.”
“Perhaps you’re right. But she is back. And you should also know that we’re expecting a very important guest for the wedding. The message reached me only this morning that Prince Ashur Cortas of the Kraeshian Empire will be attending.”
The name was well known to Magnus. “What a great honor.”
“Indeed. I was very surprised and very pleased the prince accepted our invitation on behalf of his father.” The king said this tightly, as if he did not mean it. The Kraeshian Empire lay across the Silver Sea and was ten times the size of Mytica. Prince Ashur’s father, the emperor, was the most powerful man in the world.