Immortal Reign

by Morgan Rhodes

  If Kyan didn’t have her daughter, who did?

  A thought occurred to her then, one that hadn’t even entered her mind until this very moment. Amara. It could have been Amara, using the chaos surrounding the king’s assassination, to kidnap her daughter.

  Oh goddess, she couldn’t think about this now. Surely, she would go mad.

  No, she had to stay focused or everything, absolutely everything, would be lost—including Lyssa.

  Kyan stood up from the throne and descended the stairs. He stood in front of Magnus, studying him carefully. “How did you get past the gates?” he asked.

  “There are other entrances into this city,” Magnus replied. “What, you think there’s only one way in, one way out? That’s not how a city like this works. There are books about this in the library. Perhaps you’d like to borrow a few and read up on the subject.”

  Kyan narrowed his eyes. “Did you come here to sacrifice yourself to save the girl you love?”

  “No,” Magnus said. “In fact, I’m very much counting on us both walking out of here alive and well. I believe she’s promised me another wedding very soon, and I intend to hold her to it.”

  Kyan glanced at Cleo. “But you know the hard truth that your husband does not. There will be no happy ending for you—either of you.”

  Lucia fully expected Cleo to break down, to start to cry and beg for her life and Magnus’s, but instead she watched the princess’s expression harden.

  “Wrong,” Cleo said. “There will be no happy ending for you, Kyan. Today is the last day you will have the privilege of walking this world. A world that you could have embraced rather than tortured. One you could have helped rather than hurt. And here we are.”

  “Yes, here we are,” Kyan repeated, nodding. Then he shot a look at Lucia. “Start the ritual now.”

  “We need to wait for the water Kindred to fully take control,” Lucia lied.

  Although she honestly didn’t know for sure whether it was a lie or not. She’d never done this ritual before, never wanted to do it. She only knew the steps because Kyan had described them to her.

  The ritual needed her blood and the blood of an immortal—Olivia’s blood, which is what her grandmother had used during the last ritual at Amara’s compound—combined. The orbs would react to it, even without the wisp of Kindred magic within.

  More proof that the orbs were more than prisons.

  Magic. Pure magic.

  “How long must we wait?” Kyan hissed.

  “I don’t know,” Lucia replied.

  “Perhaps this will help speed things along.” He gestured toward Taran, who came down the stairs, grabbed hold of Cleo’s hand, and wrenched the amethyst ring off her finger.

  Cleo gasped.

  Lucia turned to Kyan, clenching her fists at her sides to stop herself from lunging at him.

  “Don’t push me, little sorceress,” Kyan hissed. His eyes were glowing—a striking blue color that matched the flames. “Or you will be very sorry you did.”

  The fire surrounding Magnus rose higher, to his waist now, and the fire Kindred turned a cold smile toward her brother.

  “Do you feel that?” he asked. “My fire burns brighter and hotter than any other.”

  “Do you feel this?” Magnus asked, then his hand shot out and he grabbed Kyan by his throat. “That’s the bloodstone my father gave me to save my life. It’s full of death magic, and it has a rather interesting effect on people I hate. I think you felt it once before. Let me show you what it can do.”

  Kyan scratched at his hands but didn’t succeed in breaking free. The skin at his throat where Magnus clutched him had started to turn a sickly gray color.

  Lucia watched this unfold in shock. She’d known Magnus’s ring contained death magic, but she didn’t think that it might affect Kyan.

  “Apologies, Nic,” Magnus growled. “But this has to happen.”

  Kyan began to shake, and his eyes rolled back into his head. Olivia had descended the stairs to stand next to Taran, but neither of them made a single move to stop Magnus.

  Lucia didn’t understand why. They could stop him so easily.

  She shot a worried glance over to Cleo, and the girl didn’t appear at all surprised by what Magnus was doing.

  Had her brother tried to kill someone with this death magic before today?

  The next moment, the ring of fire extinguished around both Magnus and Ashur.

  “Don’t kill him,” Ashur snarled, just as Kyan fell to his knees.

  Magnus pulled his hand away, glaring at the Kraeshian prince over his shoulder. “You broke my concentration.”

  “You promised me that you wouldn’t kill him.”

  “Some promises were meant to be broken,” Magnus snapped. “Nic would understand.”

  Kyan hissed out a breath as he collapsed to the floor.

  Magnus nudged him with the toe of his boot. “He doesn’t look nearly as bad as Kurtis did. Much less dead.”

  Lucia shook her head. “Oh, Magnus, do you even know what you’ve done?”

  “Yes. I stopped the bad guy.” Then Magnus eyed the other two Kindred who were observing silently from a dozen paces away. “Don’t come a step closer, or you’ll get the same.”

  Lucia held her breath as she watched the red wisp of fire magic rise from Nic’s unconscious body.

  Then that wisp of magic swirled around Magnus for a moment before it morphed into a ball of fire and shot into his chest. He jumped as if he’d been struck by lightning, then doubled over, bracing his hands on his knees, gasping for breath.

  In a single motion, Magnus then pulled the golden ring off his finger and threw it to the mossy floor.

  Then slowly, very slowly, he straightened up, squared his shoulders, and swept his gaze around the throne room.

  Lucia’s heart stopped at the sight of the fire magic mark now on the palm of Magnus’s ringless left hand.

  “Yes . . .” Kyan now spoke with Magnus’s familiar deep voice. “I like this vessel very much.”

  “No!” Cleo cried out. “No, you can’t do this!”

  “I didn’t do anything.” Kyan walked over toward her, then hunched down so he could level his eyes with hers. “The little prince did this because he thought he was smart. That he was the hero. He thought he would save his beautiful bride and all her friends. He should have stayed in the shadows, where he belonged.”

  “Get out of him right now,” Cleo snarled.

  When Kyan smirked it was Magnus’s smirk. Lucia’s heart sank at the sight. “No. In fact, I think I’ll keep this vessel for all eternity.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, Lucia saw Ashur move to Nic’s side, where the prince pressed his fingers against the young man’s throat.

  “Is he dead?” she asked.

  “No. Not yet, anyway.” Ashur scowled at her. “This is your fault. I blame you for all of this.”

  “You’re right,” she replied. “It is my fault.”

  Confusion crossed Ashur’s expression. Perhaps he’d expected her to argue with him.

  “Kyan,” Lucia said, and her brother turned to face her. She swallowed hard. “I will begin the ritual now.”

  “Good,” he said with a nod. “And here I thought you might give me more of a problem than you already have.”

  “Why would I? You have everything that I care about at your mercy. My daughter, my brother, my . . .” She frowned. “Well, that’s about it, really.”

  He raised a dark brow. “No more tricks?”

  “I’m finished fighting,” she said, and it felt as honest as anything else she’d said that day. “Now I just want this to be over.”

  “This is your destiny,” Olivia said, nodding. “You should take pride in this, Lucia.”

  “You will be well rewarded,” Taran added.

  Luci
a cast a glance at Cleo, who watched the fire Kindred’s every step, every movement.

  She’s searching for some small sign that Magnus is still here with us, Lucia thought. She still has hope.

  However, Lucia wasn’t as optimistic.

  Lucia moved behind the table that bore the four crystal orbs—aquamarine, obsidian, amber, and moonstone.

  Olivia stepped forward and presented Lucia with her bare forearm.

  With a small blade Lucia kept in the pocket of her cloak, she sliced a shallow cut into Olivia’s perfect dark skin. Blood welled to the surface and then dripped onto each of the four orbs.

  Even without any words spoken, or any specific magic focused toward them, the orbs began to glow with a soft inner light.

  Olivia nodded, then backed away.

  All eyes were on the glowing orbs. Lucia considered her next step as she held the blade against her own skin.

  Follow through with the ritual as Kyan had described it to her?

  Magnus . . . he stole Magnus. Her brother, her best friend. She’d failed him again . . .

  No. She forced herself not to despair, not to dwell on what had already happened.

  How could she do this? To hand Kyan so much power, to ensure his hold upon her brother’s body . . .

  But she couldn’t figure out how to break the orbs. She could try, but if she failed, the ramifications would be catastrophic.

  Before she could decide whether to bleed or not to bleed, an arm came around her from behind, yanking her back against a firm chest.

  The tip of a blade pressed against her throat.

  “I’m not dead, in case you were curious,” Jonas whispered.

  “Jonas,” she managed.

  Kyan, Taran, and Olivia stepped forward, but Lucia held up her hand to stop them from doing anything rash.

  No one had seen the rebel’s approach through the overgrown, vine-covered throne room. They’d all been watching the orbs, watching the blade at Lucia’s arm.

  Lucia would have been impressed by the rebel’s surprising stealth if this hadn’t been the worst possible time he could have arrived.

  “Let go of me,” she urged.

  “I believed in you, and you betrayed me,” Jonas growled. “I would have given you all of my magic if you’d asked me for it. Hell, I would have offered it to you if you’d given me half a chance. Now I’m in a difficult spot, princess.”

  Lucia didn’t move, barely breathed. “Is that so?”

  She’d wanted a way to delay the inevitable, and it seemed as if she now had a very good one.

  “Now, now,” Kyan said. “I’d appreciate very much if you’d step away from my sorceress before I have to make you.”

  Jonas hesitated for a second. “Magnus?”

  “Not exactly,” Kyan said, smiling his stolen smile. “I think I remember you . . . yes, a beautiful day in a Paelsian market. A lovely girl got in the way of my fire and your body.”

  Jonas stiffened. “Kyan.”

  Kyan nodded. “There you go. I’m sure more memories will come to me from this vessel. You’ve met before, many times.”

  “I will kill you,” Jonas said.

  “I doubt that very much.”

  “Stop it,” Lucia thought, hoping very much this strange telepathy still worked between them. “Stop baiting him, or you’re going to die. Do you want that?”

  Jonas froze. “I can still hear you. I wondered if I could after all the magic you took from me.”

  “Little sorceress,” Kyan said evenly. “Shall I take care of this for you?”

  “No,” she said aloud. “I can handle this.”

  The fire Kindred’s eyes narrowed. “Then handle it.”

  Jonas’s grip on her tightened. “Timotheus gave this dagger to me, told me it can destroy magic. Didn’t think I’d need to use it on you. Yet here we are.”

  Lucia had gone very still.

  A dagger that could destroy magic.

  Right here, in this very room.

  And currently pressed murderously close to her throat by someone who had every right to want her dead.

  CHAPTER 32

  NIC

  AURANOS

  When Magnus arrived, a part of Nic held on to the hope that this prince, this former enemy, had a secret way of defeating Kyan and his siblings.

  He did. Nic just hadn’t realized how much it would hurt.

  He remembered Magnus’s hand clutching his throat as Kyan screamed internally at the cold wash of pain that crashed down upon them both.

  And then everything went black again for a while.

  The next thing he knew, he was opening his eyes and staring up at the face of Prince Ashur Cortas.

  Relief filled the prince’s gray-blue eyes.

  “What happened?” Nic managed to say.

  “You’re alive, that’s what happened,” Ashur whispered.

  “This isn’t a dream.”

  “No. Not even close. But don’t move, not yet.”

  Nic heard raised voices from close by. Lucia, Magnus . . . Jonas. They were arguing.

  Wait.

  How was he speaking words right now? How was he having an actual conversation with Prince Ashur if this wasn’t an incredibly vivid dream?

  Then he realized what had happened.

  Partially, anyway.

  Kyan had chosen a new vessel—that of Prince Magnus Damora himself.

  Through narrowed eyes, leaning against Ashur for support, Nic watched the others. They paid him no attention at all, so engrossed were they in their argument.

  Jonas had a golden knife pressed to Lucia’s throat.

  And then, before Nic’s eyes, that knife was invisibly lifted from Jonas’s grip. It floated in midair, where Lucia snatched it.

  “Thank you for bringing this to me,” Lucia said, gazing at the sharp blade. “It will be very useful, I hope.”

  “Do you want to kill him, little sorceress?” Magnus—no, Kyan—asked. “Or should I?”

  “Do you have a preference, Jonas?” Lucia asked, slipping the golden dagger beneath the folds of her black robe. “I mean, you did wander in here and threaten the life of a sorceress while observed by three elemental gods. Clearly, you knew your death would be the result.”

  “Do whatever you have to do,” he snarled.

  “That is my current plan,” she said. Then she glanced at Kyan. “I’ll kill him myself later.”

  “Very well.” Kyan gestured toward Olivia. The earth Kindred waved her hand, and thick green vines curled around Jonas’s legs and torso, locking him into place.

  “What do we do?” Nic whispered. “How can we help?”

  “I don’t know,” Ashur replied, his tone frustratingly calm. “I fear there’s nothing we can do. We may very well die here. And it’s unfortunate, really. I had plans for us, you see.”

  “Plans? For us?”

  “Yes.”

  Suddenly, something nearby caught Nic’s eye. A small flash of gold.

  It was the ring Magnus had worn on his hand, the hand that had clutched his throat.

  Kyan had discarded it the moment he’d taken over. Now it lay ten paces away from the Kindred, who were currently and thankfully ignoring Nic and Ashur’s hushed conversation.

  “What is that ring?” Nic asked. “The ring Magnus wore.”

  “It’s the bloodstone ring,” Ashur whispered. “It’s magic . . . death magic. It’s what drove Kyan out of you.”

  Death magic.

  Nic watched Kyan move around, stretching his long, muscular limbs, running his fingers through Magnus’s thick, dark hair.

  Clearly, Kyan was happy with this change. Confident. Hopeful. Ready to claim victory over this scattering of mere mortals.

  “I need to know something,” Nic said, keeping his
voice low.

  “What?” Ashur asked.

  “On the ship, when we were bound for Limeros, you told me that you had a question for me, one you’d ask when everything was over. Do you remember?”

  Ashur was silent for a moment. “I remember.”

  “What was the question?”

  Ashur exhaled slowly. “I’m not sure if it’s appropriate anymore.”

  “Ask it anyway.”

  “I . . . I wanted to ask if you would allow me the chance to steal you from the shores of Mytica, to show you more of the world.”

  Nic frowned. “Really?”

  Ashur’s expression shadowed. “Silly, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, very silly.” Nic sat up, turning so he could look directly into the prince’s eyes. “My answer would have been yes, by the way.”

  Ashur’s brows drew together. “Would have been?”

  Nic grabbed Ashur’s face and brushed his lips against his. “Apologies, but I have to do this.”

  Then he reached forward and took hold of the ring.

  Ashur’s eyes widened. “Nicolo, no . . .”

  On shaky legs, Nic rose to his feet and closed the distance between him and Kyan as swiftly as he could.

  Kyan turned to him with surprise.

  “Well, look who’s nicely recovered,” the fire Kindred sneered. “Are you going to cause more problems for me?”

  “I certainly hope so,” Nic said. Then he grabbed Kyan’s hand and thrust the ring back onto his left middle finger.

  He held on tight as Kyan burst into flames.

  CHAPTER 33

  MAGNUS

  AURANOS

  Magnus didn’t enjoy admitting fault. Ever.

  But he’d made a horrible mistake.

  It was his last thought before the fire Kindred stole his body. And then there was nothing but darkness—a darkness even more intense, more empty, and more bottomless than what he’d experienced in the grave.

  That Kyan had won had been the worst feeling ever. Worse than having his bones broken on Kurtis’s command. Worse than learning of his mother’s murder. Worse than watching his sister slip away from him, little by little, the tighter he tried to hold on to her. Worse than his father dying just as they’d begun to mend their broken relationship.