“I’m not so sure,” Amara said, a knowing smile playing at her lips. She leaned forward. “Cleo, we could put our pasts behind us. We could work together, secretly, to help prevent any man from trying to steal our power.”

“Our power?”

“My grandmother is old, my father and brothers are dead. I have no friends, no allies I can trust. You’ve been through so much tragedy and loss that I know it’s changed you. Like me, you are beautiful on the outside, but your soul is forged from steel.”

Cleo frowned, feeling more skeptical with every compliment Amara spoke. “You’d put your trust in me so easily?”

“Absolutely not. That kind of trust needs to be earned—on both sides. I know that. But I see enough of me in you that I’m willing to take this risk.” Amara extended her hand. “So what do you say?”

Cleo stared down at Amara’s bejeweled hand for a long moment before she finally grasped it. “I’d say that the future looks much brighter than it did this morning.”

“Excellent.” Amara smiled, then turned to gaze out of the window. “When Gaius wakes, I’ll speak to him. I doubt very much that he’ll put up much of an argument before he agrees to keep you alive. After all, he sees you the same way he sees me: as an object to possess and control.”

“His mistake, isn’t it?”

“It certainly is.”

Cleo picked up the bottle, poured more wine into her goblet, and swallowed it down.

Then she smashed the bottle over the empress’s head.

Align with the most devious, untrustworthy, murderous girl she’d ever met in her entire life?

Never.

Stunned, Amara crumpled to the floor.

Cleo rushed toward the door and pressed her ear against it. She heard nothing. The crash of glass and thump of Amara’s body hadn’t drawn the suspicion of any guards.

Still, she knew she didn’t have much time, and if she tried to escape through the castle she’d surely be captured.

Sidestepping the fallen empress, Cleo unlatched and pushed the window open again. A draft of cold air and snow blew into the room.

Was she ready to take this risk?

“Think,” she whispered.

She leaned over the windowsill and looked down at the side of the building and saw something she hadn’t seen before: a frost-covered trellis, partially hidden under the snow.

A memory came to her, of a time not so long ago, when all was well in the City of Gold and Cleo’s biggest problem was having an overprotective king for a father and an overachieving heiress for a sister. Cleo had always craved freedom, had hated being cooped up in the palace.

She was with Emilia in her chambers when she noticed the vine- and flower-covered trellis alongside her sister’s balcony.

The trellis made her think of the fence Nic had once climbed in order to fetch her a perfect red rose, and she’d decided to try it for herself. All she’d succeeded in doing was ruining her new gown, which got her in very deep trouble with her nanny. But she’d enjoyed the climbing, had reveled in her ability to get somewhere through only her own strength and balance.

“I want to try something,” little Cleo had told Emilia, and without waiting for a response, she began climbing over the railing.

Emilia had put her book down and raced to the balcony. “Cleo! You’re going to get yourself killed!”

“No, I won’t.” Her foot found a sturdy hold and she grinned up at her sister. “Look at me! I think I’ve found a new way to escape from the palace.”

But Emilia’s trellis had not been nearly this slippery, and her chambers were much closer to the ground.

Cleo heard some commotion beyond the door. With no time to think, she crawled through the window and sat on the ledge. The cold air brushed against her bare legs beneath her gown. Blindly, she tried to find a foothold. She searched with the toe of her slipper until finally she found one.

Narrow, so narrow. And so icy.

She said a silent prayer to the goddess she’d long since stopped believing in, and finally let go of the sturdy windowsill, now clinging completely to the snow-covered trellis.

“I can do this,” she whispered. “I can do this. I can do this.”

She repeated the phrase with each new foothold she found.

Snow continued to fall, thick and heavy, which only made every movement more treacherous.

One step at a time. One foot lower. Again. And again.

Her heart pounded hard, her fingers began to go numb.

Suddenly, her foot slipped. She scrambled to hold on. A scream caught in her throat as she lost her grip and fell.

She landed, hard on her backside, and, stunned but uninjured, gaped at the side of the castle.

There was no time to rest. She stiffly pushed up to her feet and started moving.

She had to find shelter, a place to rest and hide. And tomorrow, when the sun rose, she would hasten to Ravencrest where she could try to send word to Jonas and Nic.

The sound of dogs barking startled her, and she scrambled to hide behind a pile of firewood. From there she watched two guards and three black dogs emerge from the thick woods. The dogs dragged behind them a sled carrying the carcass of a deer.

“Take the dogs to the kennel and have them fed,” said the taller guard.

His companion nodded and unhooked the dogs’ harnesses from the sled and led them off toward the far side of the castle.

The remaining guard took hold of the reins and continued to drag the sled toward the castle. He looked up at the stormy sky, at the snow falling and coating his cloak, then pulled the bow off his shoulder and threw it down on the ground, along with the quiver of arrows. Then he took a seat on a large log, pulled out a silver flask from his cloak, and took a swig.

“Damn long day,” he muttered.

“It really has been,” Cleo agreed as she swung a piece of firewood at his head.

The guard looked at her with surprise for a single second, before he fell over, unconscious.

She hit him one more time, just to be sure.

Quickly, Cleo removed his cloak and threw it over her shoulders. Then she scanned the area, knowing she needed to go deeper in the forest if she wanted to stay hidden until dawn. Her gaze then fell upon the bow and arrows.

If magic really did exist in this world, then maybe it was possible that her archery skills would emerge when she needed them the most. Even if she hadn’t hit a single target during her lessons.

That’s what happens when you have a coward as a weapons instructor, she thought darkly.

Cleo grabbed the bow and arrows and ran as fast as she could through the deep snow and into the woods.

CHAPTER 31

MAGNUS

LIMEROS

Magnus had visited Lord Gareth’s castle only once before, but he was certain he remembered the way. He couldn’t access the palace stables, so he ran to the nearest village and stole the first horse he came across—a gray mare likely used only for short trips and errands.

She would do. She had to.

His destination was nearly a half-day’s journey northeast, and the snow was only falling more steadily and thickly as the sun set behind the dark gray clouds and day became night.

Soon the storm grew so strong that the roads and pathways had become completely obliterated by the snow. Magnus had lost his way, couldn’t recognize a single checkpoint, and now had to go by instinct alone.