“I don’t believe you were friends with my mother.”

“It doesn’t matter if you believe me or not. It was over and done with a very long time ago.”

Cleo turned away from him, disgusted that he could even attempt to make such a claim. Her mother would never have chosen to spend time with someone as vile as Gaius Damora.

“Now I get to ask a question, princess,” he said, standing up and putting himself in between Cleo and the staircase.

She turned slowly to give him the haughtiest look possible. “What?”

“What do you want with my son?” he said, enunciating each word.

She stared at him. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Are you planning to continue to use Magnus for your own gain? If so, then bravo to you. You’ve done an exceedingly fine job turning him against me. His many weaknesses have long been a disappointment to me, but this—” He shook his head. “Do you have any true idea what he’s given up for you?”

“You don’t know anything about it.”

Gaius scoffed. “I know that not that long ago my son aspired to be a leader, willing to do what it took to one day meet his great potential. I’m not blind. I saw how quickly his head was turned by your beauty. But beauty is fleeting, and power is forever. This sacrifice, the choices he’s made lately surrounding the subject of you . . . I don’t understand his reasoning. Not really.”

“Then perhaps you are blind.”

“He doesn’t see everything that’s at stake. He only sees what’s happening in the moment, before his eyes. But you do, don’t you? You know how you want your life to be ten, twenty, fifty years from now. You’ve never given up on your desire to reclaim your throne. I admit that I underestimated your drive, which was a grave mistake.”

“Why wouldn’t I want to reclaim what’s rightfully mine?”

“Be careful, princess,” he said.

“This isn’t the first time you’ve told me to do just that. This time, I can’t tell if you mean it as a warning or a threat.”

“It’s a warning.”

“Just like the warning about the curse that my mother passed to me?”

“Yes. Just like that. You don’t believe it?” He leaned closer. “Look in my eyes and tell me if I’m lying about something as important as this. Your mother was cursed by a hateful witch and she died giving birth to you because of that curse.”

Cleo took a moment to study the king who spoke lies so easily. If he were anyone else, anyone at all, she would be concerned for his health. Even during their short, unpleasant conversation, his face had grown paler, his voice drier and raspier. His broad shoulders were now hunched over.

She celebrated his decline and would equally celebrate his death. If he expected anything else from her, he would be sorely disappointed.

But his eyes—clear, steady, cruel—held no deception that she could see.

“You can see the truth,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Elena could too, all too often, when it came to me. She knew me better than anyone else.”

“You don’t deserve to speak her name.”

“That’s quite an accusation, princess, especially considering it was you who murdered her.”

Cleo’s eyes began to sting as the weight of the guilt she’d always carried with her—that her life came at the price of her mother’s death—rose up in her chest and crushed her. “If what you say is true, the curse is what killed her.”

“It certainly helped. But it was you who stole Elena’s life. Your sister didn’t succeed, but you did.”

Each word felt like a blow. “Enough of this. I won’t stand here for another moment and let you insult me, intimidate me, and lie to me. Listen to me very clearly: If you so much as attempt to harm me or Magnus again, I promise I will kill you myself.”

With that, Cleo turned away and started toward the stairs, not caring if she had to wait another eternity for breakfast. She refused to be in the King of Blood’s poisonous presence for another moment.

“And you listen to me, princess.” Gaius’s voice followed her like a rancid odor. “This love you think you feel for my son? The day will come when you will have to choose between Magnus and power. And I know, without a doubt, that you will choose power.”

CHAPTER 6

JONAS

THE SILVER SEA

On the third day at sea, Jonas stood with Nic at the bow of the King of Blood’s ship, its black and red sails catching the wind that would return them to Mytica in four more days. Olivia, in hawk form, kept a watch upon him from above as she did for most of the day, her large golden wings stretched out as she soared.

He wished he could turn into a hawk so he could be that much quicker in his return. Life aboard a ship was not for him; the constant rocking motion beneath his feet was disorienting and made his stomach churn. Although, he had to admit, he was doing better than some. Felix hung over the railing to their right, his face an ugly shade of green.

“He wasn’t kidding about his seasickness,” Nic said.

“No, he certainly wasn’t,” Jonas replied.

“I feel bad for him.”

“He’ll survive.”

“Fearsome assassin, you said? Didn’t he hunt bounties for King Gaius?”

“That’s right. Former fearsome assassin for King Gaius. Currently fighting the good fight as he embarks on a long and arduous path to redemption. And also currently heaving his breakfast into the sea as an offering to any fish who may give assistance.”