Magnus shoved the sketchbook toward the center of the table and rose to his feet. He was going to find his grandmother and demand that—with or without her magic fully restored—she try a spell to find his sister.

“All alone in this great big hall?”

He went still at the sound of Cleo’s voice. She stood at the base of the stairs, peering into the expansive room at him.

“Seems that way,” he said. “More reason for you not to enter.”

She entered anyway. “I feel like we haven’t spoken privately in ages.”

“It’s been two days, princess.”

“Princess,” she said, biting her bottom lip. “My, you certainly are keeping this act up quite well. In fact, I can’t be sure it is only an act anymore.”

“I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.” He moved his gaze over her, taking her in the way a starving man would a feast. “Is that a new dress?”

She stroked the silky skirts, the color of a ripe summer peach. “Olivia and I went to a market by the docks today.”

“You and Olivia did what?” He narrowed his eyes at her, alarmed by his ignorance of the princess’s choice to thoughtlessly put herself into danger. “That was a terrible idea. Anyone could have recognized you.”

“Much as I enjoy being scolded, I suppose I should assure you that no one recognized me since I wore my cloak. And we weren’t alone. Enzo and Milo were with us, for protection. Ashur too. He’s been exploring the city to learn what Paelsians feel about the news of his sister’s arrival.”

“And what do they say?”

“Ashur said that most seem . . . open to change.”

“Do they, now.”

“Anything after Chief Basilius would be an improvement.” She hesitated. “Well, not including your father, of course.”

“Of course.” Magnus had very little regard for Paelsians—or most Auranians, for that matter. All he cared about was that Cleo had been gone from the inn and he hadn’t realized it. “No matter whom you were with out there, it was still an exceedingly bad idea.”

“So is drinking to excess every night at the Purple Vine,” she said tightly. “And yet that is what you choose to do.”

“That’s different.”

“You’re right. What you do is far more idiotic and foolhardy than spending the day exploring a market.”

“Idiotic and foolhardy,” he repeated, frowning. “Two words that have never been used to describe me.”

“They’re accurate,” she said, her tone sharp and her brows drawing together. “When I saw you that first night with Taran . . .”

The sound of his name cut into the space between them like the sharp edge of an ax driving into a wooden block.

“I know his presence here must be difficult for you,” Magnus said, his throat tightening. “His face . . . all the horrible memories it suggests . . .”

“The only horrible memory I have of Taran is that of his blade pressed to your throat.” Cleo paused, searching Magnus’s face as her frown deepened. “Do you assume that when I look at him I see only Theon?”

“How could you not?”

“I admit that it was jarring to see him. But Theon’s gone. I know that. I’ve made peace with it. Taran is not Theon. He is, however, a threat.”

“I see.”

“Do you?” Cleo continued to study him intently, as if he were a riddle she needed to decipher. “Yet you honestly thought that I would see him and forget everything else that’s happened since that day? That the hatred I used to feel for you would return and blind me? That I . . . what? Would instantly fall in love with Taran Ranus?”

“It does sound quite ludicrous.”

Her expression grew thoughtful. “Well, Taran is very handsome. Apart from the fact that he wants you dead—which was, admittedly, a former goal of mine—he would make a perfect suitor.”

“Tormenting me must be very amusing for you.”

“Very,” she teased, allowing him a small but slightly sad smile. She reached for his hands, the sensation of her warm skin against his like a salve to a painful wound. “Nothing has changed between us, Magnus. Know that.”

Her words comforted his aching soul. “I’m very glad to hear that. When might you share this sentiment with the others?”

Immediately, her expression grew tense. “This isn’t the time. There’s far too much at stake right now.”

“Nic is your closest family, your dearest friend, and he despises me.”

“He still sees you as an enemy. But one day, I know he’ll change his mind.”

“And if he doesn’t?” He searched her gaze. “What then?”

“What do you mean?”

“Choices, princess. Life seems to be all about them.”

“You’re asking me to choose between you and Nic?”

“If he refuses to accept . . . this, whatever this is, princess, then I suppose you would have to choose.”

“And you?” she finally said after several long moments of pensive silence. “Whom would you choose, if someone or something forced you? Would it be me? Or Lucia? I know very well she was your first love. Perhaps you still love her like that.”

Magnus groaned. “I assure you, there’s nothing of the sort between Lucia and me. And as far as she’s concerned, there never was.”