After the incessant jerking motion of the wagon became so unbearable she wanted to scream, the vehicle came to an abrupt halt. She heard indiscernible shouting, a clashing of metal, and finally a frightening silence.
Amara couldn’t see a thing, could only imagine a thousand possibilities of what had just happened, none of which ended well for her.
She waited, tensely, a line of perspiration trickling down her spine as the sound of footsteps moved around to the back of the wagon. The latch clicked, and then the door swung wide open.
Sunlight streamed into the darkness of Amara’s temporary prison. She blocked the blinding brightness with her hand until she could register who stood right in front of her.
“Nerissa . . .” she whispered.
The girl’s dark hair had grown a little since the last time Amara had seen her. It was now long enough to tuck behind her ears. She wore black trousers and a dark green tunic. And she carried a sword.
“Well?” Nerissa said as she sheathed the weapon at her waist. “Are you going to look at me like an absolute fool, or are you going to get out of there before your guards wake up from the knocks they just took to their heads?”
Amara stared at the girl in disbelief. “Are you here to kill me?”
Nerissa raised a brow. “If I were, you’d already be dead.”
Perhaps this was only a dream. It had to be a dream. Or a hallucination of some kind from the heat and claustrophobia. “You should have returned to Mytica weeks ago, with Felix and Lyssa.”
“I did return. You don’t honestly think I would leave Felix Gaebras all alone with a baby, do you? He wouldn’t have had the first clue what to do with her, even without his seasickness to contend with.”
This was happening, Amara realized. It wasn’t just a dream. “You went home . . . and now you’re back?”
“Mytica was never my home, just a brief stop on my journey—one I certainly enjoyed for a time.” She jumped up into the back of the wagon and, with the key in her grip, unlocked Amara’s chains. “In case you’re still confused about all this, I’m rescuing you.”
Amara shook her head. “I don’t deserve rescue.”
I deserve escape, she thought. And continued survival. But certainly not rescue by outside forces.
Nerissa leaned her shoulder against the side of the wagon as Amara rubbed her sore wrists and tried to stand up. Her leg had mostly healed, but she still had a limp. Perhaps she always would.
“We all deserve to be rescued,” Nerissa said simply. “Some of us take longer to realize it than others.”
Amara stepped down into the daylight, again shielding her eyes from the sun. They hadn’t made it very far—they were almost at the docks, the Silver Sea just a stone’s throw away. She looked around at the unconscious guards, realizing that Nerissa wasn’t alone.
She was with three other rebels, including Mikah.
Her breath caught at the sight of him.
Mikah gestured at Amara with the tip of his dagger. “I know you told Nerissa and Felix about me, and if you didn’t, I’d be dead. But know this: If you show your face in the Jewel after today, it’s over. You’re not welcome here anymore.”
Amara pressed her lips together and nodded, resisting the urge to speak. She could only make this worse by trying to explain herself.
Mikah didn’t wait. He and the other two rebels walked away without looking back.
“I don’t think organizing my rescue won you any friends,” Amara said.
Nerissa shrugged. “I’m fine with that. Come, let’s walk along the shore. I have a ship waiting for us at the docks so we can leave this place far behind us.”
Amara followed her, her limp even more pronounced once they walked along the sandy beach. “Why did you do this for me?”
“Because everyone deserves a second chance.” Nerissa cast a look at the white beach and blue ocean that spread out before them. “Besides, the dust has settled in Mytica. Kyan and his siblings were defeated, their magic returned to . . .” She shook her head, frowning. “Lucia explained it to me, but I still don’t really understand it. The magic is everywhere now. It’s spread out . . . in everyone and everything, where it always belonged, and where it can do no more harm.”
Amara felt a knot in her stomach loosen.
Kyan was gone. The world was safe again.
“I’m glad,” she said, her voice barely audible.
“I was happy to help out there for a while, to do what I could.” A smile touched Nerissa’s lips. “You’re not the only one who’s been given a second chance in this life. I’d been using mine the best I could.”
“How curious. I’d like to hear more about that one day.”
“One day,” Nerissa agreed.
A thought occurred to Amara. “Did you see my brother?”
“Briefly. I told him what you did and that you’d helped us save Lyssa.”
“And what did he say?”
“Not much.” Nerissa grimaced. “You were right: He will need time to find forgiveness in his heart for you.”
The very heart that I stabbed, Amara thought. “I don’t think an eternity will be enough time,” she said.
“Perhaps. But we all make our choices and then must deal with the consequences, whatever they are.”
Yes, so very true.
So many choices and so many consequences.
“Tell me,” Nerissa said after they walked in silence for a while. “Did you ever dream of anything in your life beyond being empress?”
Amara considered this. “To be honest, no. The only real option for me was marriage, but I’d put it off as long as I could. I suppose, before I became empress, I was waiting for the right powerful man that I knew I’d be able to control and manipulate.”
Nerissa considered this. “And now?”
“Now I have no idea what I’m supposed to do with the rest of my life.” The sea air was warm and smelled like salt. She breathed in the unexpected freedom that she knew she didn’t truly deserve. “Why would you leave Cleo to come back here? I know she depended on you and considered you a true friend.”
“The princess doesn’t need me anymore,” Nerissa replied simply.
Amara couldn’t help but laugh at this. “And I do?”
Nerissa took Amara’s hand in hers, squeezing it. “Yes, actually I think you do.”
Amara looked down at Nerissa’s hand. She didn’t try to pull away.
“So,” Nerissa said when the docks came into view up ahead, “where do you want to go now?”
Amara smiled at the sheer number of possibilities that now lay ahead of her—opportunities she never thought possible. But perhaps somewhere along the line, in some small way, she might find a way to redeem herself.
“Everywhere,” she said.
CHAPTER 36
CLEO
LIMEROS
“Ouch!”
“Apologies, your highness.” Lorenzo Tavera finally finished lacing up the back of Cleo’s gown so tightly that she could barely breathe.
“I don’t remember it being this uncomfortable during our previous fitting,” she said with a grimace.
“Discomfort is temporary,” he told her. “The beauty of silk and lace is forever.”
“If you say so.”
He took a step back from her, clasping his hands together with joy. “Absolutely stunning! My greatest creation to date!”
She took a moment to admire the gown in the mirror before her. The skirt consisted of layer upon layer of delicate, violet-colored silk and satin, like the petals of a rose. Golden threads woven through the material created a near-magical sheen whenever the gown caught the light. Several seamstresses—and Lorenzo himself—had spent weeks embroidering graceful birds in flight over the bodice.
They were hawks, which Cleo appreciated. Hawks were the sy
mbol of Auranos, the symbol of Watchers and of immortality. They were every bit as meaningful to Cleo as the phoenix was to Kraeshians.
Life—Auranians had learned in the days following the Kindred’s deadly siege upon the city—was about love, about friends and family, and about not putting one’s own desires above the well-being of another person, no matter who they are.
Cleo gently stopped one of her two attendants from tugging at her hair in an impossible attempt to make it perfect. Her scalp felt as if it had been set aflame. Half of her golden locks had been coiffed into an intricate series of braids, the other half left free and flowing down her shoulders and back. Lorenzo had requested that all her hair be up so the crowd waiting outside in the palace square could appreciate the beauty of the gown that he’d made by hand, but she much preferred to wear her hair just like this.
“I think we’re done,” Cleo said as she looked at her reflection. She had mostly recovered from the ordeal of being possessed by the water Kindred. The only remaining sign was one faded blue tendril along her temple. One of her attendants, a girl from Terrea, told her it looked like a painted adornment worn by her ancestors during the half moon celebrations.
By the way she’d said it with such enthusiasm, Cleo took this to be a great compliment.
Lorenzo smiled as Cleo moved toward the door. “It’s even more beautiful than your wedding gown, if I do say so myself.”
“By a fraction, yes, I must agree. You are a genius.” That gown had been incredible, but she’d never had a moment to truly appreciate it.
Today would be much different.
“I am a genius,” Lorenzo agreed merrily. “This coronation gown is one that will be remembered throughout history.”
“Without a doubt,” she agreed, repressing a smile.
Nic waited for her on the other side of the door impatiently. “You took forever to get ready. Is that how queens are? Wait, now that I think of it, you always took forever to get ready, even as a mere princess.”
“You didn’t have to wait for me, you know,” Cleo said.
“But how could I miss a single moment of today?” He walked beside her down the hall. Jonas was waiting at the other end as well, also ready to accompany her to the balcony, where she would be making her first speech as the queen of Mytica.
“Are you sure you haven’t changed your mind?” Jonas asked, his arms crossed over his chest.
“Save your breath,” Nic said to him. “I’ve tried to convince her otherwise during the entire trip here, but she refuses. If you ask me, this is the worst idea ever.”
“Then it’s very smart that I didn’t ask you, isn’t it?” She smiled at him patiently. “When is it that you’re planning to leave on your journey to explore the world with Ashur?”
“Not for another week.” He raised his eyebrows. “Don’t try to get rid of me yet, Cleo.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Cleo cast a look at Jonas. “So you are yet another protestor?”
“It just seems . . .” Jonas spread his hands. “Problematic. At best. Then again, I’m not in favor of any ruler at all, let alone two who’ve chosen to equally share the throne.”
Nic let out a grunt of frustration. “Co-reigning with . . . him. Do you have any idea how much trouble you’re in for? Have you even looked at the history texts? It’s never been done successfully before. Too much arguing, fighting . . . war, even! Death and mayhem and blood and pain are a given! And that’s best-case scenario!”
“And that,” Cleo said patiently, “is why we’re going to take it a day at a time. And also why we have enlisted a very trustworthy council that won’t be afraid to intervene, if necessary.”
So far this council included Jonas as the Paelsian representative, Nic representing Auranos, and Lucia representing Limeros. The council would grow in time, but Cleo thought they were off to an excellent start.
On their walk, they passed Olivia and Felix, who’d both come to live at the Limerian palace.
Felix stayed at Magnus’s request as a personal bodyguard for him and Cleo—and for any other “problems” they might need him to deal with on their behalf. Felix had enthusiastically agreed. Of course, Cleo truly wished such problems would be few and far between going forward.
As for Olivia, Lucia had broken the news to her of what had happened in the Sanctuary. That Timotheus was dead, the Sanctuary destroyed. That all others of her kind no longer possessed the memories of their formerly immortal selves.
After the initial shock and deep mourning over such an acute loss, Olivia consoled herself with the idea that she would be the one to keep the memory and history of the Watchers alive.
Taran had already departed Mytican shores, telling Cleo and Magnus that he wanted to rejoin the fight in Kraeshia. The revolution there had only just begun, and he knew he could help to overthrow an already shaky temporary government.
And then there was Enzo.
Looking handsome in his red guard’s uniform, he nodded at Cleo as she passed him along the hallway. The fire mark on his chest had vanished immediately after the Kindred were banished from this plane of existence. He had joined them on their journey to Limeros for their coronation, but insisted on returning to Auranos immediately after to help in the reconstruction of the Auranian palace.
Cleo had a feeling it had a great deal to do with his desire to return to a pretty kitchen maid there at the palace who thought Enzo was the most wonderful man she’d ever met.
“Are they trying to talk you out of this?” Magnus greeted Cleo as the trio turned the next corner. “What an incredible shock.”
She started. “You surprised me.”
“You still need to get used to the twists and turns of this palace,” he said. “Remember, you agreed to live here half of the year.”
“That’s one of the reasons this dress is lined in fur.”
Magnus’s appreciative gaze slid down the front of her and back up, meeting her own and holding. “Purple.”
“It’s violet, actually.”
He raised a brow. “That’s a Kraeshian color.”
“It’s a common color that is, yes, used by Kraeshians.”
“It reminds me of Amara.”
Ah, yes. Amara. Cleo had received a personal message from the former empress from an undisclosed location congratulating Cleo and Magnus on their victory against Kyan. Amara also conveyed that she hoped one day to see them again.
Nerissa claimed that Amara had value and deserved a second chance. She’d even chosen to accompany Amara to parts unknown.
Cleo had decided not to harbor any ill feelings toward Amara, but she didn’t have any interest in ever seeing her again.
But it was impossible to know what the future held.
She looked up at Magnus. “This shade of violet, Lorenzo tells me, is the perfect blend of Auranian blue and Limerian red.”
A smile touched his lips. “As clever as you are beautiful.”
Nic groaned. “Perhaps I’ll leave now—why wait a week?”
“If you insist,” Magnus said. “I certainly won’t try to stop you.” His gaze moved to Jonas. “My sister is looking for you.”
“Is she?” Jonas asked.
Magnus’s lips twisted with disapproval. “She is.”
Jonas grinned mischievously. “Well, then, I’ll have to see what she wants, won’t I?” He leaned toward Cleo and kissed her cheek. “By the way, that shade of violet is my favorite. And you look gorgeous, as usual.”
Cleo couldn’t help but notice that Magnus’s eyebrows furrowed immediately whenever Jonas complimented her.
Perhaps they always would.
“And you . . .” Magnus eyed Nic.
“What about me?” Nic shot back.
A smile turned up the corner of his mouth. “I might surprise you yet.”
“Oh, you do surprise me,�
�� Nic replied. “Constantly. Be good to her or you’ll have me to answer to, your majesty.”
“Noted,” Magnus replied.
Then Nic and Jonas left them to take the remaining walk to the balcony in privacy.
“I still hate both of them,” Magnus told her. “Just so you know.”
“No, you don’t,” Cleo replied with amusement.
Magnus shook his head. “What exactly is it that my sister sees in that rebel?”
She repressed a grin. “If I have to tell you, it would be a waste of my breath.”
Whenever Lucia wasn’t spending time with her daughter, she seemed to be with Jonas. The only one who seemed to have a problem with this was Magnus.
He’ll get over it, Cleo thought. Probably.
The day after the Kindred had been defeated, they’d received a message from Nerissa explaining what had happened in Kraeshia.
It said that Amara’s grandmother had commanded the assassin to take the life of King Gaius. And that she’d arranged to have Lyssa kidnapped, making it seem as if it had been the fire Kindred.
A week later, Nerissa and Felix returned from their journey and delivered Lyssa into her young mother’s grateful arms.
“I do like your hair like this, very much.” Magnus twisted a long, loose golden strand around his finger as he pressed Cleo up against the wall of the corridor. They were inches away from the balcony where they would be addressing the cheering Limerian crowds and making their first speech as king and queen.
“I know,” she said with a smile.
He traced his fingers along the tendril that framed her temple. She gently touched his scar.
“Can we do this?” she asked, a sliver of doubt creeping in. “For real? Or are we going to fight every day about everything? We have vastly different outlooks on a million different subjects.”
“Absolutely true,” he said. “And I anticipate countless heated arguments that will stretch deep, deep into the night.” A grin pulled at his lips. “Is it wrong that I look greatly forward to each and every one of them?”
Then he kissed her deeply, stealing both her breath and her thoughts.
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