Falling Kingdoms

And she also wished very much that she could share her own secret, the one she’d been hiding for nearly a month—the one no one knew. No one at all.

Pushing aside her fear and uncertainty, she prayed to the goddess for enough strength, faith, and wisdom to weather the dark storm she feared was drawing closer.

• • •

Magnus followed the noise downstairs toward the castle’s great hall. He pushed past several recognizable faces—boys of his age who considered him their friend. He offered them stiff smiles and received the same in return.

They weren’t his true friends—not one of them. They were the sons of his father’s royal council, who were basically required to be acquainted with the Limerian prince whether they liked it or not. And a few, as Magnus had overheard in passing, didn’t like him at all.

Irrelevant.

He assumed every one of these boys—and their sisters, who would be more than eager if Magnus chose one of them as his future bride—was ready to use him whenever the occasion called for it. He was happy to do the same when it served his purposes.

He trusted not a single one of them. Only Lucia. She was different. She was the only one with whom he could ever be truly himself without putting on any act. She was his closest confidant and ally. They’d shared so many secrets over the years, trusting each other to keep their silence.

And he’d just escaped from her chambers as if they’d been set on fire.

The secret of his growing desire for Lucia would have to be kept silent from everyone. Especially her. Forever. He would keep it buried deep in his chest until the fiery pain left only ash where his heart once was. He was already half there to begin with. Maybe when his heart had finally been burned away, everything would be easier.

It had been more than a month since the banquet, and he hadn’t learned anything of interest that would elucidate the enigmatic conversation he’d heard between his father and Sabina. He’d asked Amia to pay special attention as she eavesdropped throughout the castle. If she ever heard Lucia’s name, she was to report immediately back to him. The young maid had eagerly agreed to this much as she eagerly agreed to anything Magnus had ever required of her.

In the hall, his father’s voice was raised as he addressed the crowd of three hundred men. Those in attendance appeared to hang on his every word, their gazes fixed solely upon the king. Behind the king on the wall was one of the few pieces of artwork that the hall still held on its cold, flat walls—a large tapestry of the king himself perched upon his favorite black stallion, sword in hand, looking strong and stern and royal.

Magnus cast up his eyes. His father loved being the center of attention.

“A murder.” The king’s voice boomed through the hall. “Right in the middle of the Paelsian market a month and a half ago. It was a cool but beautiful day when Paelsians were out enjoying the sunshine, marketing their wares, trying to make a decent living for themselves and their families. But this was disrupted by a few wicked Auranian royals in their midst.”

Murmuring surrounded Magnus. News had already reached some about the murder of the wine seller’s son, but for others this was the first time they’d heard of it. Magnus was surprised that anyone actually cared.

He was surprised that his father seemed to care. When it had been mentioned to Magnus at Lucia’s birthday banquet, he hadn’t thought much of it. Later, when his father learned of it, the king had simply shrugged a shoulder.

Seemed as if he’d changed his mind. Perhaps it was due to the influence of the young, dark-haired man who stood next to the king. The one who had recently returned from a trip across the sea.

Magnus’s cheek began to twitch.

His name was Tobias Argynos. He’d been brought to the castle to become the king’s valet a year ago and soon thereafter was taken fully into his confidence. If the king needed something, Tobias would get it. The king considered him an asset and treated him as a favorite son.

If whispered rumors held any weight, then Tobias was a favorite son—the king’s bastard born twenty years ago to a beautiful courtesan in Auranos.

Magnus had never taken to believing in idle gossip. But he would never completely ignore it, either. Whispered stories could turn to shouted truths as quick as day became night. Even so, it wouldn’t jeopardize Magnus’s position in the kingdom. He was the rightful heir today, tomorrow, and always. Still, the way the king had warmed to Tobias when he’d only been cold to Magnus all his life troubled him more than he’d ever admit out loud. The rightful prince received a scar on his face while the bastard stood next to the king as he gave speeches to a rapt audience.

Then again, fairness or kindness had never been King Gaius’s goals. Strength, faith, and wisdom above all.

“Paelsians have suffered,” the king continued. “I’ve watched this and my heart has bled for our poor neighbors. Auranians, on the other hand, flaunt their riches for all to see. They are shamefully vain. They have even begun to deny religion and prayer and instead raise up their own images as idols as evidence of their hedonism and excess. It was a selfish young lord—Lord Aron Lagaris—who killed the impoverished wine seller’s son. The murdered boy was a fine and handsome young lad, one who could have grown up to help lead his people out of the squalor they have faced for generations. But he was cut down as a spoiled lord tried to show off in front of a princess—Princess Cleiona. Yes, named for the evil goddess herself, she who murdered our own beloved of beloveds, Valoria, goddess of earth and water. The two watched Tomas Agallon’s young life bleed from him in front of his own family. They didn’t feel sorry for the pain they caused that family and all Paelsians.”