She drew in a sudden, sharp breath and held it for so long that she began to feel dizzy.

“Oh, goddess,” she whispered. “I’m pregnant.”

CHAPTER 26

CLEO

LIMEROS

Ever since Jonas and Nic had left for Kraeshia, Cleo had been paying extra attention in her archery lessons. But still her skills did not improve.

Between her disappointment in herself and Lord Kurtis’s increasingly insufferable and constant need to malign Magnus and the sorry state of Limeros now that he was no longer in charge, her patience had finally worn out.

So this morning, after a particularly frustrating hour of missed targets and Lord Kurtis’s whining, she quit.

Cleo returned to her chambers, flinging off her gloves and cloak, and sat down on the edge of her bed. From there she could see herself in the vanity mirror.

“What am I still doing here?” she asked her reflection.

Nerissa had gently asked her that very same question only yesterday.

She didn’t have an acceptable answer then, and she found she still didn’t have one today, not even for herself. What was her purpose in this cold, stark palace? It wasn’t as if she would lose her royal position if she were to leave.

All she was doing here was wasting time, waiting and waiting. . . .

Enough waiting.

She was deeply saddened to learn that Eirene, the exiled Watcher, had died, but she was not at all surprised—Eirene had been very old when Cleo had seen her last.

And all it meant was that now Cleo would have to find another exiled Watcher, and get the answers for herself.

She went to the window and lifted up a loose stone on the sill, under which she’d hidden the obsidian orb.

But the nook beneath was empty.

She blinked, the sight of the shadowy hollow still not fully registering. Of course the Kindred should be there; she hadn’t moved it. She turned in a circle, scanning the room, trying to see if something had changed.

“No. It was here.” She looked under the sill again, but there was no black orb to be found.

Her heart began to race.

The Kindred had disappeared.

Someone had stolen it. But who?

Certainly not Nerissa, the only other person who was aware of the hiding spot. Cleo trusted Nerissa completely and refused to doubt her.

Perhaps a maid or servant had come across it by accident while tidying up? But if that was the case, why would they steal such a thing? To an uninformed commoner, the orb would seem nothing more than a very large marble.

“Who could have done this?” she whispered aloud. Who else knew about the Kindred, would risk their lives by searching her private chambers to find it?

Then, in an icy flash, the answer came to her.

• • •

She approached the throne room at a brisk pace, the guards opening the doors for her before she even had to ask. Magnus was inside, waiting for her, seated upon his father’s iron throne.

The prince wore black from head to toe, as he always did, as if in an attempt to blend in with the throne, the room, the entire palace. But despite all of this darkness, she spotted the earth Kindred immediately. Magnus held it in his right hand.

“Look what I found,” he said, tossing it up and down as Cleo approached the throne. “Shockingly, it was in your quarters. Did you have any idea it was hiding there?”

“That belongs to me,” she hissed.

“Actually, princess, it was in my palace, so that means it belongs to me.” He held the orb up in front of this face and studied it. “Obsidian is such a beautiful color, isn’t it? I’m going to assume that Agallon brought this to you.”

She stayed silent and resolute, her jaw tense and her arms crossed in front of her.

“Oh, princess, silence will not do you any favors today.”

“I find I have very little to say on the subject.”

“That’s all right. I have plenty to say; I’ll do the talking for both of us. What I hold in my hand is solid proof that you’re an unrelenting liar, that you’re still aligned with rebels, and that you continue to keep essential information from me. You knew exactly why this Kindred was missing from the Temple of Cleiona when we arrived to claim it. Why didn’t you tell me about this?”

A humorless grunt of laughter escaped her throat. “Why would I? Despite your pretty promises to me, and your verbal agreements with Jonas, you’ve always made it very clear that we’re enemies—today, tomorrow, and always.”

“And how, precisely, have I made that clear? Was it the time I spared your little rebel friend from execution? Or was it my offer to return your kingdom to you? Shall I go on?”

“Magnus, you can’t honestly expect me to believe your promises. Restore my kingdom to me? After all the lies you’ve told in the past? All the betrayals?”

His gaze grew colder. “I meant every word of that offer. And if there’s anyone who knows that I’m capable of being a man of my word, it’s you. But now?” He indicated the orb. “I’ve changed my mind. Mytica—all of it—will be mine. All mine. Yes, that sounds much better to me. I’ve never really liked to share my toys.”

She took a few steps closer to the dais and looked up at him, frowning. “You’re right,” she said. “Perhaps I should apologize.”

He blinked. “What?”

“It’s clear to me that I’ve hurt you.”

He scoffed. “You could never hurt me, princess.”

Cleo shook her head. “I think you’re hurt by everybody. That’s why you act like this. You try to be as cruel and cold and horrible as possible so no one will get close to you. Because when they do, when you let people in, you get hurt.”

Magnus let out one harsh, cold laugh. “Much gratitude for your opinions, princess, but you’re wrong.”

“I’m not blind, Magnus. I saw what happened between you and Lucia when she came here. Your heart broke to see your sister like that, when all you wanted to do was help her.”

“Lucia is different. Whatever she does, she’s family. But she’s made it clear she doesn’t need or want my help, and I’ll never make that mistake again.”

“It doesn’t change how you really feel.”

Magnus stood up and descended the steps. “I’ve grown bored of this conversation. You can try to manipulate me all you want, but the facts of this situation remain. You are a deceitful wench, and the earth Kindred is now mine.”

“Very well. I wish you the best of luck accessing its magic. It’s impossible. I’ve tried everything.”

“I assumed as much. Otherwise, I’d be dead and buried by now, wouldn’t I?”

“You think I want you dead? Even now?”

Magnus sighed. “You really do need to make up your mind on that subject, princess. Your duplicity is dizzying.”

“Fine. Yes. I kept the Kindred from you. I did—and do—plan to use its magic to get my kingdom back. There. That’s the truth. I’m finished with lies—what good have they done me? So now that you know, why don’t you throw me in the dungeon? Demand my head?”

“You love to try my patience,” he gritted out.

“You won’t have me killed for this. Because, despite all of our differences, we are aligned. And maybe it’s time we started to trust each other.”