But then it was as if someone had reached into the darkness and grasped hold of him, pulling him back up to the surface.
The bloodstone was back on his finger.
Cold death magic mingled with fire and life, combusting, creating something new.
It hurt—it hurt like being raked over burning coals. But he could think again. And he could move. It felt like he was coming up for air.
His arms were on fire, but as soon as he realized that, the flames extinguished.
Nic stared at him. His hand was red and blistered from the fire, but Magnus’s skin was unblemished.
“Get back,” Magnus growled.
Nic did as he said, returning to Ashur’s side. Ashur bound Nic’s burned hand quickly in a torn piece of his shirt.
“Get the ring off your finger. Do it now, or I will destroy you.”
It took Magnus a moment to realize it was Kyan who snarled this. Kyan’s voice inside Magnus’s head.
Magnus grimaced as he swept his gaze through the throne room. Everyone watched him with different expressions on their faces.
Lucia, with dread. Jonas, bound by vines—who must’ve foolishly shown up just minutes ago—with disdain.
The look on Cleo’s face nearly undid him: pain mixed with fury. Her golden hair was a tangled mess, wild and free. The blue lines on her face and arms were still as disturbing as ever.
But she’d never been more beautiful to him.
“I hate you,” Cleo hissed at him as he held her gaze.
He drew closer to her. She stiffened but didn’t stagger back from him.
“I’m sorry to hear that, Cleiona,” he said softly. “Since I feel very differently toward you.”
Her blue-green eyes widened a fraction at the use of her full name, and she drew in a sharp breath.
It had become their signal—when he used her full name.
She now knew the truth that no one else did. Magnus was in control of his body. But he didn’t know how long it would last.
Taran and Olivia studied Magnus carefully.
“Are you well?” Olivia asked.
“I’m very well,” Magnus said smoothly, knowing it would be best if they didn’t realize what had happened. “Everything is under control.”
A bigger lie has never been spoken in history, he thought.
“I will kill your niece,” Kyan hissed from inside him. “I will burn her until she’s nothing but ashes.”
Magnus leveled his gaze at Olivia. “Fetch the child.”
She cocked her head. “Child?”
“Lyssa. Bring her here immediately.”
Olivia exchanged a look with Taran. “That’s not possible.”
“What?” Lucia exclaimed. “What are you talking about? Why isn’t it possible?”
“Princess!” Nic shouted at Lucia. “Cleo’s right. Kyan didn’t kidnap Lyssa. They never discussed her, I never saw her. I don’t know where your daughter is, but she’s not with them.”
Taran flicked his hand, and Nic went flying backward, hitting a column hard enough that Magnus heard the far too familiar sound of breaking bones.
But when Ashur moved to his side, Magnus saw that Nic still moved.
That boy was definitely resilient. Magnus had to admire him for that.
The bloodstone hadn’t stopped hurting him for one moment. It was like his hand was on fire, the searing pain sinking deep into his bones.
But he didn’t dare take it off his finger.
Lucia had a blade in her hand, a golden dagger Magnus hadn’t seen before. She raised it up. “Do you know what this is?” she asked.
Magnus shook his head.
Olivia and Taran came to his sides, but both their gazes were fixed on Lucia.
“Sorceress,” Olivia said gently. “I think you need to use a different blade. That one could be problematic.”
Lucia raised her chin, her gaze now filled with raw maliciousness. “I’m hoping it will be, actually. I’m hoping it’s incredibly problematic for you.”
“Stop your stupid sister from whatever she’s thinking of doing,” Kyan growled. “Or I will burn everything you’ve ever cared for!”
“Quiet,” Magnus muttered. “Lucia is speaking.”
“What did you say?” Taran asked.
“Nothing, nothing. Just enjoying the show.” Magnus gestured toward his sister. “Lucia, will you be getting on with the ritual? Time grows short.”
Her bleak gaze met his, but there was no recognition there. She still didn’t see him past the threat of Kyan.
“I wanted to find another way,” she said as she drew the edge of the golden blade across her palm, then dripped her blood onto each of the crystal orbs. “But there’s no choice. I don’t know if this will work or if it will kill you—” Her voice broke off. “Magnus, I’m sorry. If I’d never been born, none of this would be happening.”
“Don’t say that,” Magnus said firmly. “You have been a gift from the moment you came into my life. Never forget that.”
Their eyes met and held. And . . . yes. There it was.
Tears spilled down her cheeks.
She knew it was him.
“Stop her,” Kyan yelled from within Magnus. “I demand that you stop her! I was meant to be free—free with my siblings. I was meant to rule this world! To reform it however I saw fit! You can’t stop that! I am fire. I am magic. And you will burn!”
The orbs had begun to glow brighter, like tiny suns.
“Do it, sister,” Magnus said, steeling himself, since he knew very well how badly this could end for him. “Whatever you feel you need to do to end this, do it right now.”
“What is happening?” Taran said, moving forward. “This isn’t right. This isn’t the ritual.”
“No,” Lucia said, shaking her head. “It definitely isn’t.”
Lucia raised the blade above her head and brought it down hard over the obsidian orb.
Olivia screamed.
Taran was closing the distance between him and Lucia as swiftly as a hurricane, but not before she shattered the moonstone with the dagger’s tip. He froze in place, as if he’d hit an invisible barrier, his knees buckling from under him.
Magnus grabbed hold of Cleo’s hand, pulling her against his side.
“Do it!” Cleo yelled.
Lucia destroyed the aquamarine orb, and Cleo’s grip on Magnus’s hand became painfully tight as she cried out.
“What are you waiting for?” Magnus roared. “End this!”
The amber orb shattered on contact.
Magnus felt something hit him. Something solid and sharp and painful. It felt like his flesh was being torn from his bones.
He tried to see through the pain—toward Lucia at the table. She looked down at the broken pieces of the Kindred orbs. They were still glowing, brighter and brighter until their light began to obliterate her from his view.
Move, Lucia, he thought frantically. Get away from them.
But she stood frozen in place, as if unable to move away from the magic that was going to explode and surely destroy them all in the process.
A moment before his vision went stark white, he saw a shadow—Jonas, free from his vines, leaping toward Lucia and knocking her out of the way just as a thick column of light shot up from the shattered orbs.
Light, too, shot out of Magnus’s eyes, his mouth, his hands. He couldn’t see, couldn’t think. But he could feel.
Cleo’s hand still gripped his.
“Don’t you dare let go of me,” he roared at her past the deafening whooshing sound sweeping through the throne room. A windstorm enveloped them, threatening to carry them away. A violent earthquake shook the ground beneath their feet.
“The others!” Cleo screamed.
Yes, the others. Magnus searched the chaos su
rrounding him until he saw Olivia. She held on to Taran like he held on to Cleo.
He reached toward her, and she grabbed hold of his hand. Cleo did the same with Taran. Taran’s nose was bleeding, and his face was bruised and bloody. Olivia’s gaze was wild, fearful, but still fierce and ready to fight.
Chunks of marble fell from the destroyed ceiling, narrowly missing them as the wind swirled around and the floor nearby split wide open.
“I’m sorry!” Olivia yelled, but it was barely audible above the sound of the elemental storm surging around them.
“None of this is your fault!” Cleo replied.
Magnus would like to argue that this was, in part, Olivia’s fault, but there was no time.
“Bloody weak,” Taran growled. “I should have fought harder.”
“Yes, you should have,” Magnus said. “But you’re still here.”
“Just in time for us all to die.”
A monstrous burst of fire erupted in front of Magnus. He jumped back as the fire grew. He could feel its heat searing his skin.
“No,” Magnus growled. “I didn’t survive this long to give up now.”
“Your sister is helping them,” Taran hurled back at him, his words nearly stolen completely by a series of swirling tornadoes that circled them. Magnus eyed them uneasily, knowing each one could tear them apart if they got too close.
They should have been torn apart by now—by all of this. But they weren’t. Not yet.
“My sister, in case you are incapable of understanding this,” Magnus said without a single doubt in the world, “is helping us.”
Lucia would save the world. Why had Magnus doubted her for even a moment?
He was such a fool.
He lost his grip on Olivia’s hand, and she flew backward from him. “No!” he yelled.
Cleo squeezed his hand hard, and he looked at her, nearly blind from the beam of destructive light that had torn the throne room apart.
Taran was nowhere to be seen.
“Forever,” she said, tears streaking her face. “Whatever happens—you and me are together forever. All right?”
“You and me,” he agreed. “Until eternity. I love you, Cleo.”
“I love you, Magnus.”
He’d never heard more beautiful words in his entire life.
Cleo buried her face in his chest, and he wrapped his arms tightly around her, refusing to ever let go of her, no matter what happened.
The light grew brighter and brighter.
The wind howled. The fire burned. The earth itself shook and shattered beneath their feet.
And then . . .
Then it was all over.
CHAPTER 34
JONAS
AURANOS
It felt as if the Forbidden Mountains themselves had crashed down on top of him.
The throne room was in ruin. Light from the sky shone down onto Jonas, brightening the remains of what had once been the golden palace. He tried to turn his head to see who was there, who was hurt or dead, but the pain made him scream.
“Hold still, you fool,” Lucia said. “You have a broken neck.”
“Broken neck—?” he managed. “Nic . . . Nic is hurt. Worse than me. Help him first.”
“I already did,” Lucia told him. “Ashur insisted. He’ll be fine. Now stay still and be quiet so I can heal you.” She placed her hands on his neck, and a burning sensation made him yelp as it sank deep into his throat, his spine, so intense he thought he might pass out from it.
And then the pain was gone.
Lucia looked down at him.
“You healed me,” he said weakly.
“Of course I did. I mean, it’s your elementia I’m currently using.”
He blinked. “I was dead.”
“I hear you’ve been dead a lot.”
“I think this is my third time. Or second and a half, anyway.”
“It’s the least I could do after . . .” Lucia drew in a shaky breath. “I’m sorry for what I did. At the time, I felt I had no choice.”
Jonas touched her face, brushing the dark hair off her forehead. “Of course I forgive you.”
She stared down at him with surprise. “That easily?”
He grinned. “Sure. Not everything has to be a struggle. Not today, anyway.”
“I still don’t know where my daughter is,” Lucia said, her voice breaking.
Jonas took her hands in his. “We’ll find her. Wherever she is, however long it takes, we will find her together.”
She nodded. “Thank you.”
“You just saved every one of our arses with that stolen magic . . . and that dagger . . .” Jonas strained to see the altar where the orbs had been, but there was nothing left, only a black scorch mark.
Lucia shook her head. “The dagger vanished, along with every last piece of the crystal orbs.”
“Good riddance.” Jonas pulled her gently against him, and she let out a shuddery sigh of relief.
“I’m glad Kyan’s gone,” she whispered. “But part of me really liked him in the beginning.”
“I’m sure part of him was worth liking. A very small flicker of likability.” Jonas finally and reluctantly released her. He rubbed his neck, which felt as good as new, then gazed around at the shattered remains of the throne room.
A hand appeared before his face then. A hand attached to the arm of Magnus Damora.
Jonas grabbed it, and Magnus helped him to his feet.
He’d seen light explode from Magnus, Cleo, Taran, and Olivia, just as it had exploded from the Kindred orbs. Anything with the power to punch a hole in a marble roof could easily have torn apart a mortal body. But it hadn’t.
“You’re alive,” Jonas managed.
“I am.”
Jonas blinked. “Good. I mean, yes. Glad you’re not dead and all that.”
“Likewise.” Magnus hesitated. “I saw you protect my sister. You have my eternal gratitude for that.”
It was all a blur now. The vines that had held him immobile had fallen away as soon as Lucia had crushed the orbs. He remembered her standing over them, the golden dagger in her hand.
Frozen in place.
Had she remained there, he doubted she would have survived that blast.
Jonas looked at Magnus. “It seems your sister needs protecting sometimes.”
“She’d disagree with that,” Magnus replied.
“I’m right here,” Lucia said, pushing herself up to her feet to give her brother a tight hug. “I can hear you.”
Cleo came to Magnus’s side, accompanied by Taran and Olivia.
The sight of the three of them, free from the monsters that had used their bodies, made Jonas’s throat tighten. “You’re all right. All of you.”
Olivia nodded. “I don’t remember much at all, to tell you the truth.” She gazed around the room at the moss and vines. “But it seems like I was quite busy.”
“I tried so hard not to let the air Kindred take me over,” Taran said. “That loss of control, it was worse than death for me. But I’m back. And my life . . . it’s going to be different now.”
“How?” Jonas asked.
Taran frowned. “Not sure yet. I’m still working on that.”
Lucia embraced Cleo, gripping her tightly. “If you hadn’t told me about the orbs . . .”
Cleo hugged Lucia back. “We have Nic to thank for that.”
Jonas glanced to the other side of the throne room, where Nic and Ashur were speaking together in hushed tones.
“We survived,” he said with shock. “We all survived.”
Lucia’s eyes were glossy. “I hurt you, Jonas. I lied to you. I manipulated you. And . . . I almost killed you. And you’re still willing to forgive me? I can’t understand it.”
Jonas grinned. “I guess you�
�re lucky I’m fond of complicated women.”
Magnus cleared his throat loudly. “Anyway, we will immediately start a kingdom-wide search for my niece, including a reward no one will be able to resist.”
“Thank you, Magnus,” Lucia whispered.
She hadn’t let go of Jonas’s hand.
This girl will probably be the death of me, he thought with wry amusement.
But not today.
CHAPTER 35
AMARA
KRAESHIA
ONE MONTH LATER
Amara endured the uncomfortable, rocky ride in the back of the enclosed wagon that would take her to a locked room where she would spend the better part of her life, away from anyone she might try to hurt.
Her grandmother had made sure to document everything she’d done. With the very same Grand Augur who had almost completed Amara’s ascension ceremony as her witness, she’d signed away Amara’s life. Neela’s accounts of her granddaughter’s descent into madness would take everything away from her.
She was now known as a girl who’d murdered her loving family in the relentless pursuit of power.
The most amusing part of it all was that Amara couldn’t argue with any of her grandmother’s claims, since every single one of them was true.
But she was still alive. The rebels who’d attacked the ceremony hall had successfully rescued their leader, but their numbers were far too few to take control of the Emerald Spear or the city surrounding it.
For now, the Grand Augur would rule. Which, quite frankly, annoyed her because the man didn’t have a single original thought in his idiotic head.
At the moment, however, she couldn’t concern herself with power.
She was more concerned with escape.
Unfortunately, with her ankles and wrists chained, and the back of the wagon locked up tight after her last attempt to break free from her captors, that didn’t seem remotely possible.
Very well. She would go to the madhouse. She would play along and behave herself and . . . well, very likely seduce a guard who would eventually help her escape. For now, however, she had to be patient.
But patience had never been an easy task for Amara Cortas.
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