Frozen Tides Read Free Page A

titles such as Grand Kingsliege.
    From the corner of his eye, Magnus noticed that Cleo had moved closer to him.
    â€œYou’re already acquainted with Lord Kurtis,” Cleo said. “Aren’t you?”
    Magnus kept his gaze fixed on the throne. “I am.”
    â€œAnd you don’t like him.”
    â€œI don’t like anyone, princess.”
    Nic snorted.
    They fell into silence as Magnus considered how best to handle the complicated mess his life had become. He felt backed into a corner: injured, weaponless, and far too vulnerable. His broken arm throbbed, but instead of ignoring the pain he focused on it, to help clear his mind of the constant buzz of confusion and chaos.
    It had been six years since he’d last seen Kurtis Cirillo, yet he remembered it as clearly as if it had been yesterday.
    The sun had shone bright and warm that day, and the snow had melted so much that ice lilies pushed up through the frosty ground. A rare summer butterfly, its golden wings speckled with blue and purple dots, came to rest on one of these flowers in the garden near the cliff’s edge. In Limeros, it’s said to be good luck to see a summer butterfly, for they only live a single day.
    Magnus reached toward it and, to his amazement, it climbed onto his right knuckle, tickling his skin. It was so beautiful up close that it almost seemed magical.
    â€œIs that a butterfly?”
    A shiver zipped down his spine at the sound of Kurtis’s cold voice. Kurtis was fourteen years of age to his twelve, and the king insisted that Magnus be friendly with him during Lord Gareth’s visits. It was difficult to be friendly with the horrible boy since being within ten paces of him made Magnus’s skin crawl.
    â€œYes,” Magnus replied reluctantly.
    Kurtis came closer. He was a full head taller than Magnus. “You should kill it.”
    Magnus frowned. “What?”
    â€œAnything stupid enough to just sit there on your pale little hand deserves to die. Kill it.”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œYou’re heir to the throne. You’re going to have to grow up some day, you know. You’re going to have to kill people and not cry about it afterward. Your father would crush that thing in a second. So would I. Don’t be so weak.”
    Magnus already knew that Kurtis liked to hurt animals. During his last visit, Kurtis had butchered a stray cat and left its twitching remains in a corridor where he knew Lucia would happen upon them. She’d cried for days.
    â€œI’m not weak!” Magnus said through gritted teeth.
    Kurtis grinned. “Let’s put it to the test, then. Either you kill that thing right now, before it flies away, or I promise, the next time I’m here . . .” He leaned in close enough to whisper. “I’ll chop off your sister’s little finger.”
    Magnus stared at him, horrified. “I’ll tell my father you said that. You’ll never be allowed here again.”
    â€œGo ahead and tell him. I’ll just deny it. Who’ll believe you?” He laughed. “Now choose. That butterfly, or your sister’s finger. I’ll cut really slowly, and tell her you told me to do it.”
    He wanted to call Kurtis’s bluff, but the memory of that cat forced his throat closed.
    Magnus knew he had no choice. He clasped his left hand down on the right, feeling the tender collapse of the soft wings as he crushed the beautiful, peaceful creature.
    Kurtis smirked. “Oh, Magnus. Don’t you know it’s bad luck to kill a summer butterfly?”
    â€œPrince Magnus, you look as if you’ve just returned from a war.” Once again, Kurtis’s voice wrenched Magnus out of the horrible memory.
    Quickly, Magnus composed himself, setting a pleasant enough look on his face as he turned around. Kurtis was still incredibly tall—even taller than Magnus by an inch or two. His reddish-brown hair, muddy-green eyes, and