“We’ll send word to him so he’ll know where to find us.”

“My kingdom . . . Theon, I need to take it back.”

“You will, but not here. Not with him.” Theon’s expression darkened. “I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you from that monster, my love. But I will now. You’ll never have to see him again.”

He drew her into a tight embrace, but she stiffened against him.

“I can’t leave,” she said, her voice so quiet she barely heard it herself. “There’s too much I need to do here. I’m sorry.”

Theon pulled back from her and shook his head. “How can you say this to me?”

“Please, try to understand—”

“Why would you stay with him a moment longer than you have to? Don’t you remember what he did to me?”

Slowly, blood began to trickle from the corner of his mouth.

She covered her mouth in horror. “Theon!”

“He murdered me, princess. That evil coward plunged a sword through my back and in return he deserves nothing but pain. You know this!”

She shook her head, her eyes stinging with tears.

Theon staggered backward and fell to his knees. He ripped open the front of his cloak to show her the bright red stain in the center of his tunic. “He stole me from you. He stole your kingdom and your family and your future. Do you forget that?”

Hot tears streamed down her cheeks. “No. You—you don’t understand . . .”

“I loved you, princess. We would have been so happy together, if not for him. Why would you betray me like this?”

He fell to the ground, his accusatory eyes glassy and staring at her.

Cleo woke from the dream screaming.

• • •

She searched for Nic, but passed Magnus in the halls instead. She tried to avoid him, but he stepped directly into her path.

“Princess,” he said, eyeing her cloak and gloves. “In a hurry to go somewhere?”

She had trouble meeting his gaze, so she kept her attention on the dark floor instead. “Nowhere in particular.”

“I’m curious, how are your archery lessons coming along?”

Of course, today, of all days, he wanted to stop for a friendly chat. Lovely. “Couldn’t be better.”

“Lord Kurtis is a good instructor?”

“Very good. I—I’m actually looking for Nic. Have you seen him?”

“Not recently.” Magnus blinked, then straightened his shoulders. “The last place I saw him was at a public house nearby. It seemed to me he was there to try to forget a certain Kraeshian prince. Curious, isn’t it? And here I’d thought he was madly in love with you. Some people are full of secrets, aren’t they?”

“Indeed. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

He caught her arm as she brushed past him. “Is everything all right, princess?”

“Everything’s fine.”

“Look at me.”

Cleo gritted her teeth before forcing herself to meet his dark gaze. As soon as she did, a thousand different emotions hit her all at once, and her eyes began to sting.

No, not here. I won’t cry in front of him.

Magnus drew his brows together. “Tell me why you’re so upset.”

“As if you’d care.” She looked down at his large hand gripping her upper arm. “You’re hurting me.”

He let go of her immediately, and she felt his gaze hot on her back as she walked away, trying to appear as if she wasn’t in a rush.

She tried to breathe normally, tried to find a way to find her strength again, but it slipped from her grasp with every step she took.

Finally, she found Nic exiting his room in the servants’ wing. There were dark circles under his eyes and his red hair was a mess.

“Remind me of something in the future, Cleo,” he said. “Stick with Paelsian wine. Any other drink imbibed to excess leads to nothing but great pain and regret the next morning.”

If it were any other day, she might find this humorous. “The pain you’re feeling right now should be reminder enough,” she said, then glanced up and down the hallway. “I need to talk to you about a private matter.”

He rubbed his forehead. “Now?”

She nodded, her throat tight.

“Fine.” He gestured toward his room. “Come in and experience the fine luxury I’ve been given by his majesty.”

She chewed her lip. “No, let’s go outside. I need some fresh air and . . . it will do you good.”

“Excellent idea. And if I freeze to death, I’ll be no further burden to you.”

“Stop it, Nic. You’re not a burden. I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you.” She grabbed him and hugged him hard.

He stiffened with surprise, but then returned her hug. “Are you all right?”

“That’s a very good question. I’m not so sure anymore.”

He nodded. “Then let’s have that talk.”

Nic grabbed his warm cloak, and Cleo led him out of the palace and into the ice gardens.

“Have you seen the labyrinth?” she asked, drawing the hood of her cloak up over her head to help block out the chill.

“Only from a distance.”

She eyed the red-suited guards dotting the white landscape. “I’ve walked it several times and know the way through. It’ll give us some privacy.”

As they entered the maze, Cleo hooked her arm through Nic’s for additional warmth.

“All right,” he said. “What’s so urgently private that we need to walk through a maze of ice on the coldest day I’ve ever lived?”

“Well, first I want to apologize. I feel that I’ve been neglecting you when you . . .” She took hold of his cold hand in her gloved one. “When you’ve been deeply in need of a friend.”

His steps faltered and his expression grew serious. “What do you mean? I know you’re my friend. I mean, you’re more than that. You’re my family now. The only family I have.”

“Yes, of course. But I know you’ve been so troubled since the temple . . . since Prince Ashur died . . .”

His face went pale. “Is that what this talk is all about? Don’t ask me about him, Cleo. Please.”

“I know you’re in pain, Nic. I want to help you.”

“I’m working it out for myself.”

“By getting drunk every night?”

“Perhaps it’s not the best strategy to clear a confused mind, but it’s one of the few I have available to me.”

“I can tell you’re confused. Talk to me about this, Nic—about him. I’m here for you. I mean it.”

His nose had already gone red from the cold, and his freckles stood out sharply on his pale face. “All I know is I’ve never felt that way, ever, for . . .” His jaw tightened. “I don’t know, Cleo. I can’t explain it, not even to myself. I’ve liked girls all my life, and I know I haven’t only been fooling myself. Girls are pretty and soft and . . . amazing. What I felt for you, especially for you . . . that wasn’t fake or a lie I told myself. It was real. But with the prince . . . I don’t know what to think. It’s not as if I’ve undergone some massive change and now want to kiss every boy that crosses my path.”