“You speak as if you know my heart, but you don’t. You don’t know me, and I don’t know you.”

“Learn to take good advice when it’s freely given. Life will be much easier for you if you do.” Selia didn’t seem the least bit fazed by Cleo’s sharp tone. “I sense greatness in you, my dear. I see it in your eyes. You are determined to change the world. I saw the same expression in your mother’s eyes the one time I met her.”

Cleo felt her eyes go wide. “You met my mother?”

Selia nodded. “Elena was a commendable woman, strong and brave and smart. An uncommon combination, I hate to admit, especially among royals. Our kind do tend to be spoiled and coddled in our youth, no matter where we come from. It can lead to lazy adults who aren’t willing to do what it takes to get what we want.”

“I was spoiled and coddled,” Cleo admitted.

“Such weakness has been burned out of you by challenge and loss.”

“Yes. Burned out of me,” Cleo repeated, nodding. “That’s an accurate description of how it’s felt.”

“The fire that hollows us out is what allows us to be filled with strength and power where before there was none,” Selia said. She poured two glasses of grape juice. Cleo took one from her. “Perhaps we should toast to that fire. Without it, we would be no threat to those who might wish to stifle our potential.”

Cleo nodded. “I suppose I can drink to that.”

She raised the cup to her lips. Just as she was about to take a sip, the glass flew out of her hand and shattered against the wall.

She looked up with surprise at King Gaius, who now stood next to her. His gaze wasn’t on her, though, it was on his mother.

Cleo scrambled up to her feet, her chair skidding backward on the wooden floor. The king looked as healthy and strong as he ever had.

The bloodstone. He had it now, and it had worked its magic.

She’d been too busy feeling sorry for herself alone in her room to hear about this.

“Goodness, Gaius.” Selia also rose to her feet. “Is that any way for you to treat your son’s wife?”

“I notice you didn’t take a drink yet, Mother. Go on, quench your thirst. Don’t let me stop you from tasting your own dark magic.”

Instead of doing what he curtly suggested, Selia placed her cup down on the table. Cleo watched her, a sickening realization dawning inside her.

The grape juice had been poisoned.

Cleo pressed up against the wall, her heart pounding hard and fast.

“You look very well, Gaius,” Selia said without a glance in Cleo’s direction.

“Thanks to you, it seems I’ve recovered.”

“As I promised you would.” Her expression was tight. “Now tell me what’s wrong and why you look at me with hatred instead of love this morning.”

He laughed hollowly. The look in his eyes was cold enough to make Cleo’s blood turn to ice in her veins.

“What would have happened had the princess drunk that?” He nodded at the pitcher. “Would she have died quickly and painlessly or screaming with a hole burned through her throat as my father did from your deadliest of potions?”

“I’m not sure,” Selia said calmly. “It works differently on everyone.”

“You really tried to poison me?” Cleo managed, shock and outrage making her tremble.

Selia’s steady gaze met hers. “You’ve proven yourself a problem in many ways. I see no reason why you should be allowed to disrupt this family more than you already have.”

“That is not your decision to make,” Gaius growled. “It’s mine.”

“From what I gather, you’ve tried numerous times to rid yourself of this thorn in your side. How difficult could it be to end the life of a troublesome child like this?”

“How did you know?” Cleo choked out to Gaius. The thought that she’d been starting to trust Selia, that she had just believed in her words of strength and bravery, made her sick. She’d been so close to drinking poison, not thinking for a single moment that her life was in danger. If the king hadn’t knocked the cup from her hand . . .

“I just knew,” the king said. He still hadn’t looked directly at Cleo; his gaze remained fixed on his mother. “Just as I know what you did seventeen years ago, Mother.”

Finally, a slight frown creased Selia’s forehead. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“We can play this game, if you like. I’d rather we didn’t. I’d rather not waste more time listening to your lies, the lies you’ve filled my head with all my life.”

“I’ve never lied to you, Gaius. I love you.”

“Love.” He threw the word back at her as if it were a flaming arrow he’d managed to block. “Is that what you call it? No, Mother. While I’ve been contemplating my own death, my mind free from any protective potions, I’ve done a great deal of thinking about how your idea of love has only been a ruse to gather power for yourself. I did everything you asked of me and received ashes in return. You were the one to tell me that love is an illusion. Or is it only certain kinds of love that you find unsuitable?”

She stared at him, incredulous. “Romantic love is an illusion. The love of family is eternal! I waited thirteen years in exile for you to realize that everything I’ve done has been for you. For you, Gaius, not for me. And finally you appeared when you needed me the most. And what did I do without question? I saved your life!”