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sighed. “I wish I knew for sure. All I have is my faith that you must only wait a short time longer.”
    The king laughed, but there was no humor to the sound. “How long should I wait before I choose to banish you to the forbidden mountains for such deception? Or perhaps I can think of a punishment more suitable to someone like you.”
    Sabina’s voice chilled. “I would advise you never to even consider such a thing.”
    “Is that a threat?”
    “It’s a warning, my love. The prophecy holds as true today as it did all those years ago. I still believe. Do you?”
    There was a long pause. “I believe. But my patience grows thin. It won’t be long before we’ve wasted away like Paelsia has and must also begin to live as poor peasants.”
    “Lucia is now sixteen. The time is drawing closer for her awakening, I know it is.”
    “Pray that you’re right. I’ll not take well to continued deception if you’re wrong, even from you, Sabina. And you know very well how I deal with disappointment.” There wasn’t a sliver of warmth in the king’s icy tone.
    Nor was there in Sabina’s. “I am right, my love. And you won’t be disappointed.”
    Magnus pressed up against the cold stone wall behind him so he wouldn’t be seen as his father left the balcony. His head was swimming with confusion over what he’d heard. This close to the balcony, his warm breath created frozen clouds in the cold night air. Sabina emerged shortly afterward and began to follow the king back to the banquet hall. But she stopped, tilted her head, then turned to look directly at Magnus.
    A chill went down his spine, but he kept his expression neutral.
    Sabina’s beauty had yet to fade—long, sleek dark hair, amber-colored eyes. She always dressed in shades of red, luxurious fabrics that hugged the curves of her body and that stood out amidst the more sober colors that most Limerians donned. Magnus had no idea how old a woman she was, nor did he give such issues much thought. She’d been around the palace since he was only an infant and always appeared exactly the same to him—cold, beautiful, timeless. Like a marble statue that lived and breathed, and expected the occasional tiresome conversation.
    “Magnus, my sweet boy.” A smile spread across her face. Her dark eyes, lined in black kohl, remained distrustful as if she’d guessed he’d been listening.
    “Sabina.”
    “Aren’t you enjoying yourself at the banquet?”
    “Oh, you know me,” he replied dryly. “I always enjoy myself.”
    Her lips curved as her eyes moved over his face. He felt an unpleasant tingle in the scar that traced his cheekbone. “Of course you do.”
    “If you’ll excuse me. I’m retiring for the evening to my chambers.” She didn’t move, and his eyes narrowed. “Go on, now. Wouldn’t want to keep my father waiting.”
    “No, wouldn’t want that. He hates to be disappointed.”
    He gave her a cold smile. “He does indeed.”
    Since she showed no signs of moving, Magnus turned from her and began walking leisurely down the hall. He felt her gaze hot on his back.
    The conversation he’d overheard echoed in his ears. His father and Sabina had made no sense at all. He’d heard talk of magic and prophesies. And all of it sounded dangerous. What secret did the king and Sabina know about Lucia? What awakening did they speak of? Was it just a silly joke they’d made up to amuse themselves on the event of her birthday? If they’d sounded remotely amused, he might give weight to this theory. But they had not. They sounded tense and concerned and angry.
    The same emotions swelled within Magnus’s chest. He cared for nothing in the world except Lucia. While the depth of his true feelings could never be revealed, he would do everything he could to protect her from those with the potential to do her harm. And now he put his father, the king—the coldest, deadliest, and most dangerous man he’d ever known—firmly in that category.

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