To her far left, she caught a glimpse of a boy she knew—Michol Trichas. She raised her hand to wave at him, but he didn’t seem to notice and turned away.
She picked up her pace to catch up to him, drawing her fur-lined cloak closer to block out the icy chill.
“Michol!” She greeted him with a smile, the frozen ground crunching under the leather soles of her shoes. They’d taken an art class together here at the palace a few months ago. Her father had wanted to abolish the subject entirely, but Lucia had begged him to reconsider, promising that the study of art was not simply a frivolous pursuit of aesthetic beauty, but one of history and heritage.
Michol was the son of local nobles who were also friends of the king. She liked him very much—had enjoyed talking to him about sculpture. They’d spent an hour discussing a sketch of a mysterious carved stone wheel located in the northern-most frozen reaches of Limeros, an area that never thawed. It was said to be originally from the Sanctuary itself—a legendary place of magic hidden in the Forbidden Mountains from which eternal mystical beings watched over the mortal world. Some more obscure texts that Lucia had read said that to encounter such a wheel was to discover a location marked by Watchers as a clue to find the lost Kindred—which could be a blessing or a curse, depending on the myths one believed.
Michol had attended her birthday banquet, and he’d promised to come back so they might go for a walk together and do some exploring of the palace grounds. He’d never returned, and she didn’t understand why. Now he turned to face her with a sheepish expression. He raked a hand through his messy hair. “Princess Lucia, a pleasure to see you again.”
She pushed away her nervousness and decided to be as straightforward as possible with the boy. “I haven’t seen you in ages!”
“No.”
“Are you trying to hide from me?” She tried to smile, but the thought that she was right was disturbing. Still, she was curious to know the truth. “Did I say something to offend you?”
He made a strange snorting sound, which might have been a nervous laugh. “Hardly.”
“I’ve been waiting for us to go on that walk.”
Michol stared at her as if perplexed. “Then I—I don’t understand.”
Lucia tucked her hands into the sleeves of her cloak to keep them warm. “That makes two of us.”
“Your brother told me that you wanted nothing to do with me.”
She blinked. “Excuse me?”
“I was here before to call on you and he made sure I knew that my presence was unwelcome. That you said I wasn’t to be encouraged. That you, well...that you were interested in taking walks with other boys, but not with me.”
Confusion gave way to clarity and a hot surge of anger. “Did he?”
“He did.”
She struggled to breathe normally and not let her emotions get the better of her. Lately, strange things tended to happen when they did . . . things that she had to keep secret in case anyone found out.
She let out a long, steady breath and looked directly at Michol. “He shouldn’t have told you that.”
“Really?” His expression turned hopeful.
“And you never should have believed him without speaking with me. My brother does not control who I see and when I see them. I do.”
He blanched. “I didn’t know.”
“This isn’t the first time this has happened.”
Magnus had developed a bit of a habit of deciding who was deserving of his younger sister’s attention. But she didn’t need his opinion or his help in weeding out the unworthy. She was quite capable of doing that herself.
“Honestly,” she muttered. “How dare he interfere in my life like this?”
“Does this mean we can have that walk after all?”
Lucia turned her gaze on the boy, studying him closely for the first time. At first glance he was handsome enough, a few inches taller than she, his skin pale and perfect.
It was too bad that he’d been born missing a backbone.
She forced a smile to her lips, one that brought a light of optimism back to the boy’s eyes.
“Perhaps another time. Good day, Michol.”
She returned to the castle without a backward glance, anger toward her brother swelling with every beat of her heart as she quickly made her way through the shadowy halls. Magnus was interfering, overprotective, deeply annoying, and incredibly vexing. She turned the next corner.
“Lucia,” Queen Althea said, with no warmth in her voice. Lucia froze in place at the sight of her mother.
“Yes, Mother?”
The queen’s dark hair had turned gray in streaks. Her face was pale and drawn, and she seemed to peer down her nose at her daughter even though they were the exact same height. “What mischief are you up to this afternoon? And why are your cheeks so red?”
“No mischief. I was outside. It...it’s cold.”
“It’s the dead of winter. Of course it’s cold. Why were you outside?”
It always seemed to be the dead of winter in Limeros. Lucia cleared her throat, immediately on guard under her mother’s close scrutiny. “I’m looking for Magnus. Do you know when he’ll be returning from the hunt with Father?”
“Soon, I’m sure.” Her lips thinned, and her eyes scanned the length of her daughter with distaste. “Your hair is a mess. You really shouldn’t leave your chambers looking so slovenly. Someone might see you.”