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Immortal Reign

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by Morgan Rhodes




  An Imprint of Penguin Random House

  Penguin.com

  RAZORBILL & colophon is a registered trademark of Penguin Random House LLC.

  First published in the United States of America by Razorbill,

  an imprint of Penguin Random House LLC, 2018

  Copyright © 2018 by Penguin Random House LLC

  Penguin Random House supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin Random House to continue to publish books for every reader.

  LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA IS AVAILABLE

  Ebook ISBN 9780698185609

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are

  the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any

  resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies,

  events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Version_1

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Map

  Cast of Characters

  Prologue

  Chapter 1: Jonas

  Chapter 2: Cleo

  Chapter 3: Lucia

  Chapter 4: Magnus

  Chapter 5: Amara

  Chapter 6: Jonas

  Chapter 7: Magnus

  Chapter 8: Nic

  Chapter 9: Lucia

  Chapter 10: Cleo

  Chapter 11: Magnus

  Chapter 12: Lucia

  Chapter 13: Magnus

  Chapter 14: Cleo

  Chapter 15: Magnus

  Chapter 16: Lucia

  Chapter 17: Jonas

  Chapter 18: Amara

  Chapter 19: Lucia

  Chapter 20: Magnus

  Chapter 21: Cleo

  Chapter 22: Magnus

  Chapter 23: Cleo

  Chapter 24: Nic

  Chapter 25: Magnus

  Chapter 26: Amara

  Chapter 27: Jonas

  Chapter 28: Magnus

  Chapter 29: Amara

  Chapter 30: Cleo

  Chapter 31: Lucia

  Chapter 32: Nic

  Chapter 33: Magnus

  Chapter 34: Jonas

  Chapter 35: Amara

  Chapter 36: Cleo

  Acknowledgments

  CAST OF CHARACTERS

  Limeros

  Magnus Lukas Damora

  Prince

  Lucia Eva Damora

  Princess and sorceress

  Gaius Damora

  The king of Mytica

  Felix Gaebras

  Former assassin

  Kurtis Cirello

  Lord Gareth’s son, former kingsliege

  Lord Gareth Cirillo

  Grand kingsliege

  Enzo

  Palace guard

  Lyssa

  Lucia’s infant daughter

  Paelsia

  Jonas Agallon

  Rebel leader

  Tarus Vasco

  Rebel

  Auranos

  Cleiona (Cleo) Aurora Bellos

  Princess of Auranos

  Nicolo (Nic) Cassian

  Cleo’s best friend

  Nerissa Florens

  Cleo’s attendant

  Taran Ranus

  Rebel

  Bruno

  Tavern owner

  Valia

  Witch

  Kraeshia

  Amara Cortas

  Empress

  Ashur Cortas

  Prince

  Carlos

  Captain of the guard

  Neela

  Amara and Ashur’s grandmother

  Mikah Kasro

  Revolutionary

  The Sanctuary

  Timotheus

  Elder Watcher

  Mia

  Watcher

  Olivia

  Watcher and earth Kindred

  Kyan

  Fire Kindred

  PROLOGUE

  ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO

  It was her favorite dream.

  The golden dagger lay before Valia on a velvet cushion. Beautiful. Powerful. Deadly. She picked it up, the golden hilt ice cold against her skin. The thought of the dark blood magic within it, restrained only by the symbols of elementia etched into the blade’s surface, sent a shiver up her spine.

  This weapon held magic that could be wielded to shape the world however she wanted it. No conflict, no strife, no pain. Her decisions, her kingdom—all of it.

  With this blade in her grip, everyone would worship and love her.

  Yes, this was her favorite dream—a shining gem in a deep, dark cave of nightmares. And she allowed herself to enjoy every moment of it.

  At least, until Timotheus decided to interrupt.

  The immortal pulled Valia’s unconscious mind into a field of green grass and wildflowers—a stark change from her usual view of ice and snow from her tiny, isolated cottage in the mountains of northern Limeros.

  In this dream, she could smell the sweet pollen and feel the warmth of the sun on her skin.

  She looked into Timotheus’s golden eyes. He was millennia old, but still had the face and body of a handsome man in his early twenties. He’d looked the same since he first came into being, made from the elements themselves, one of the six immortals first created to protect the Kindred and watch over the world of mortals.

  The sight of him filled her with equal amounts of annoyance and dread.

  “The end is coming,” Timotheus said.

  His words sent a chill through her down to the very marrow of her bones.

  “When?” she asked as calmly as she could. He was standing only two paces away from her in the field of colorful flowers.

  “I don’t know precisely,” he said. “Could be tomorrow. Could be decades from now.”

  Annoyance now took precedence over dread. “Your timeline is rather unreliable. Why are you bothering me with this nonsense? I don’t care what happens or when.”

  He pressed his lips together, studying her carefully for a moment before responding. “Because I know that you care. That you always have.”

  This immortal knew her far better than she’d like. “You’re wrong, Timotheus. As always.”

  He shook his head. “Lying was never your strongest ability, my old friend.”

  Valia’s jaw tightened. “I was having a wonderful dream before you interrupted. Get to whatever point you came here to make, since I’d really like to get back to it.”

  His eyes narrowed as he studied her. Always studying, always watching. He was unnerving, this immortal. Even more so than the others.

  “Have the deepening lines on your face led you to any epiphanies about life?” he asked.

  Valia resented the mention of her lost youth. She’d smashed the last mirror in her cottage only yesterday, hating the aging woman it had reflected. “Your tendency to speak in riddles has never been your most endearing trait, Timotheus.”

  “And your lack of empathy has never been yours.”

  She laughed, as cold and brittle as an icicle hitting the frozen ground. “Do you blame me?


  He raised a brow as he walked a slow circle around her. Rather than follow his movements, she focused on a cluster of yellow daisies to her left.

  “You go by a different name now,” he said. “Valia.”

  Her shoulders tensed. “I do.”

  “A new name changes nothing.”

  “I disagree.”

  “I should have visited your dreams years ago. I apologize for my neglect.” His gaze moved to her left hand. “I imagine that troubles you even more than the lines on your face.”

  Heat flew to her cheeks at this blunt observation, and she slid her freakishly misshapen hand into the deep pocket of her cloak. “A mere whisper of air magic can do wonders to hide this during my waking hours.”

  “Whom do you hide from anymore? You’ve chosen a life of solitude.”

  “That’s right,” Valia hissed. “My life, my choice. And none of your business. And what does it matter anyway? If the end is near, as you say, be it tomorrow or a century from now, then so be it. Let it end—all of it! Now go away. My dreams are private. My life is private, and that’s how I like it.”

  When her voice broke at the end, she hoped he hadn’t noticed.

  “I’ve brought you a gift,” he said after several long moments of silence. “Something I thought you might want.”

  In his hands, he held a flat, jagged shard of shiny black rock.

  Valia stared at it with shock. It was the Obsidian Blade—an ancient, magical weapon of limitless possibilities.

  “You know what magic this could allow you to wield,” he said. “And how it might help you.”

  Breathless, all she could do was nod in reply.

  Valia reached out, first with her cursed hand and then with her good one. Afraid to touch it, afraid to give in to the fresh hope that it teased after so many years of growing despair.

  Then hesitation set in.

  “What do you want in return for this gift?” she asked quietly.

  “A favor,” Timotheus replied. “One that you will grant me without question when the day comes for me to ask it.”

  She frowned. “If the end is coming, do you have a plan? Have you told the others? What about Melenia? I know she can be horribly vain and selfish, but she’s also powerful, smart, and ruthless.”

  “Indeed, she is. She reminds me daily of someone else. Someone lost to us so many years ago.”

  Valia focused on the daisies again, unwilling to meet the immortal’s searching gaze. “Melenia is more useful to you than I could ever be.”

  When she forced herself to look up at him again, there were no answers in his dark golden eyes. “A favor,” he repeated. “Do you agree or don’t you?”

  Her need for immediate answers faded as a familiar greed rose up within her, too thick to swallow back down. She needed this gift, needed it to help strengthen her fading magic and recover her youth and beauty. To help her control what she still could in this seemingly uncontrollable existence.

  The Obsidian Blade was only a fraction as powerful as the golden dagger she dreamed about, that she desired more than anything. But she knew she needed it. Desperately.

  Perhaps the past didn’t matter anymore.

  Only magic mattered. Only survival mattered.

  Only power mattered, in whatever form she could possess it.

  Finally, Valia took the Obsidian Blade from Timotheus, the weight of it a great comfort after so many years of pain and struggle.

  “Yes, Timotheus,” she said evenly. “I agree.”

  He nodded. “My gratitude to you. Always.”

  Then the immortal and the dream world he’d pulled her into faded away to darkness. When Valia woke, tucked into her small cot with the hearth’s fire burned down to glowing embers, the jagged hilt of the blade was still in her grip.

  CHAPTER 1

  JONAS

  PAELSIA

  “You can’t escape your destiny.”

  Jonas lurched up from the hard wooden floor so quickly that a wave of dizziness slammed into him. Disoriented, but with dagger in hand, he scanned the small room to locate exactly what had torn him out of a deep sleep.

  But there was nothing there except a beautiful princess with long raven-black hair asleep on the small cot. A tiny baby lay at her side, swaddled in a piece of cloth ripped from Jonas’s cloak the night before.

  The newborn’s eyes were open wide and staring directly at Jonas. Violet eyes. Bright . . . like glowing jewels.

  His breath caught. What—?

  Lucia moaned softly in her sleep, stealing his attention away from the baby for a moment. When his gaze returned, the baby’s eyes were sky blue like her mother’s, not violet.

  Jonas shook his head to clear it.

  Lucia let out another cry from her slumber.

  “Bad dreams, princess?” Jonas muttered. “Can’t say I’m that surprised, given what we survived last night.”

  Their journey to get to Lucia’s father and brother had been interrupted by Lucia giving birth during a massive rainstorm. Jonas swiftly found them a room at a nearby Paelsian inn so Lucia could recover her strength before they continued onward.

  She shifted beneath the blankets, her face twisting. “No . . .” she whispered. “Please, no . . . no . . .”

  The unexpected vulnerability in her voice tore at him. “Princess . . . wake up,” he said, louder this time.

  “You . . . you can’t . . . No . . . I—I won’t let you . . .”

  Without thinking, Jonas sat down on the edge of the bed. “Lucia, wake up.”

  When she didn’t respond, he took hold of her shoulders to gently shake her awake.

  In an instant, Jonas was no longer in the small bedroom. He was standing in the middle of a village, and the world was on fire.

  Flames shot up as tall as the Forbidden Mountains, their heat an immediate, searing brand on Jonas’s flesh. The painful flames didn’t crackle like those of a campfire; they screeched like a vicious beast from the darkest corner of the Wildlands. Through the wall of destruction, Jonas watched with stunned disbelief as cottages and villas were set ablaze—people screaming for help and mercy before the flames devoured them whole, leaving nothing but black ashes where they had once stood.

  Jonas was paralyzed. He could not cry out or run from the burning pain. All he could do was watch in horror as the destructive fire began to form something recognizable—the figure of a gigantic, monstrous man. This creature of fire stared down at another figure—that of a cloaked girl standing defiantly before him.

  “Do you finally see the truth, little sorceress?” the creature snarled, each word the lick of a fiery whip. “This world is flawed and unworthy, just as all mortals are. I will burn all this weakness away!”

  “No!” The hood of the girl’s cloak blew backward, revealing her flowing black hair. It was Lucia. “I won’t let you do this. I’ll stop you!”

  “You’ll stop me, will you?” The creature began to laugh and stretched out his burning arms. “Yet you’re the one who’s made all this possible! Had you not awoken me after all these centuries, none of this would be happening.”

  “I didn’t awaken you,” she said, her tone more uncertain now. “The ritual with Alexius . . . yes, I awoke the others. But you—you’re different. It’s like you awoke yourself.”

  “You underestimate the reach of your magic—of your very existence. Melenia knew this. That’s why she envied you just as she did Eva. Perhaps this is why she wanted you dead after you’d served your purpose. Just like your mother wanted you dead.”

  Lucia staggered back from him, as if his words were physical blows. “My mother feared my magic.” She turned her face away from the monster long enough for Jonas to see the tears streaking down her cheeks. “I should have let her kill me!”

  “Your mortal life is the only one I still value, li
ttle sorceress. Take your rightful place by my side, and together we will rule the universe.”

  Lucia stared at the fire Kindred for a moment in silence. “I don’t want that.”

  The fire god chuckled. “You lie, little sorceress, especially to yourself. Ultimate power is all any mortal wants. You would allow your family, your friends, even your own child, to be destroyed if it meant you could achieve it. Embrace this, little sorceress. Little goddess.”

  Trembling now, Lucia clenched her fists at her sides, and she screamed, “NEVER!”

  The ear-piercing sound froze the fire god in place. In the next moment, he exploded into a million crystal-blue shards, each falling away to reveal the room at the inn behind them. And the girl sleeping in the small bed.

  Lucia’s dark lashes fluttered. She opened her eyes, and her gaze locked on Jonas.

  “What . . . what in the hell did I just see?” Jonas asked, his voice raspy. “Was that just a dream? Or was it a vision of the future?”

  “You were in my head just now,” she whispered. “How is that possible?”

  “I . . . I don’t know.”

  Her eyes widened. “How dare you invade my privacy like that!”

  “What—?”

  Jonas suddenly found himself airborne, as if a large invisible hand had grasped him and thrown him back from the bed. He hit the far wall hard and fell to the floor with a grunt.

  The baby began to wail.

  Lucia gathered the child in her arms, her glossy eyes filled with outrage. “Stay away from me!”

  He rubbed the back of his sore neck as he pushed himself to his feet and scowled at her. “You think that I did that on purpose? I was only trying to wake you from your nightmare. I didn’t know that would happen!”

  “I’m beginning to wonder just how much magic you hold inside you.”

  “Yeah, me too.” He willed himself to be patient. “I didn’t know I could enter your dreams . . . like . . . like . . .”

  “Like Timotheus can,” she hissed.

  A Watcher. An immortal who’d lived for millennia. Timotheus lived in the Sanctuary, a world apart from theirs, and Jonas didn’t trust him any more than he did the fire Kindred in Lucia’s dream.

  “This is Timotheus’s doing,” Jonas mused. “It has to be.”

 

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