“We were separated during our travels. Has he been back since we left here?”
“Afraid not.”
“Are you certain?”
“Believe me, I’d remember if he had.” The girl winked. “Care for a drink?”
“Yes,” she said, all of a sudden realizing how desperately thirsty she was. “I’ll have . . . peach juice.”
“We only have grape juice.”
“That’s fine.”
“Anything else? Something to eat, perhaps?”
Lucia felt a twinge in her belly at the suggestion. “Yes, that would be wonderful.”
Sera glanced over at a full table of loud men, who Lucia now realized were all dressed in identical green uniforms. “Apologies if I’m a bit slow to serve you tonight,” she said. “I’m the only one here, and I need to make sure our other guests are well taken care of. It’s probably a good idea that we keep them drunk and happy, don’t you think?”
“I suppose.” Lucia eyed the men with curiosity. “Who are they?”
Sera turned to her, surprised. “It’s only been a few days since you were last here. Surely you must know about the Kraeshians.”
Lucia snapped her gaze to Sera’s. “Kraeshians?”
Sera nodded. “We’re now under a Kraeshian occupation, with thousands sent here to enforce their laws upon all of Mytica, including this little forgettable village. These men arrived here yesterday.”
“Sent by Emperor Cortas?” Lucia’s chest grew more constricted every moment, until she was having trouble breathing.
Sera raised her brows. “These soldiers told me that the emperor and two of his sons were killed by a rebel who’s been captured and punished for the crime. Only his daughter, Amara, survived. She’s the empress now of Kraeshia . . . and Mytica. At least, until her brother Ashur returns from his travels, they say.”
Lucia’s heart nearly stopped. She gripped the side of the table so tightly that she was sure she would break it in two.
She fought to control the emotions storming within her. The worst thing she could do now would be to blow her cover by losing control of her magic and causing damage she’d have to pay for later.
“And where is the king?” Lucia managed.
“I don’t know.”
Lucia remembered boldly revealing her magic in front of the Kraeshian princess, but Amara had acted so very calm about it. Encouraging, even. Lucia had determined she’d deal with any ramifications of confirming the rumors about her magic the next time she saw the girl, but she hadn’t seen her again.
And now Amara was empress.
Something was terribly wrong, and she needed to know what had happened to her family.
“Sera,” Lucia said, pushing past the fog of shock in her quest for answers, “have you heard anything about the prince? Prince Magnus?”
“I’m afraid news is scarce here, but with all this fresh blood in town”—Sera smiled over at the table of Kraeshian soldiers—“we’re getting some information. Apparently, the prince tried to steal the throne from his father while the king was away in Kraeshia. I heard he was put to death for treason, along with his new wife.”
For several long moments, all Lucia could do was stare. “No,” she finally uttered, her voice cracking as she did.
Sera frowned. “What?”
“He can’t be,” she gasped. “He can’t be dead.” Lucia lurched to her feet, her chair screeching against the floor as she did. “I need to find him—my father. Find my brother. This isn’t right, none of it. And nobody knows the real danger that’s waiting. No one knows how much trouble everyone’s in.”
As she muttered frantically, the table of soldiers began to look up, one by one. Soon she’d gained their full attention, and a few of them got up from their table to come to her side.
“Is everything all right over here, miss?” one of the soldiers asked. He was the largest man in the group, with gray-blue eyes and dark brown hair.
“Everything’s fine,” Sera answered quickly, nodding and smiling tightly as she did. “Don’t mind her, she’s just very weary after a long journey.”
The soldier ignored her, focusing only on Lucia. “You didn’t come here with plans to give the empress any difficulties, did you?”
The empress. The thought of Amara having both Kraeshia and Mytica under her little thumb made Lucia sick to her stomach.
“Difficulties?” she said through clenched teeth. “I hope not. But that depends on how quickly you and your empress decide to leave Mytica and never look back.”
The guard laughed and glanced at his compatriots. “I’m sure you alone are going to make us leave, yes?”
Gently, as if wary of startling a beast, Sera touched Lucia’s arm. “Please sit down,” she whispered in her ear. “I’ll get your meal. These soldiers have been very kind to us so far, and they’ve promised that Empress Amara will make sure that the future will be bright for Paelsians. The empress appreciates our wine, and she has a plan to start exporting it overseas. Soon we will all become as wealthy as Auranians!”
“Promises,” Lucia said tightly. “Silly promises, nothing but words. You know what else is made up of words? Lies.”
“Little girl,” the soldier told her, “do what your friend suggests and sit back down. We’re under orders to detain anyone with rebel tendencies. I don’t think you want that, do you?”
A dark chuckle came from the back of Lucia’s throat. “Little girl,” she repeated, sneering. “You have no idea who you’re dealing with.”
The soldier laughed too, leaning down to get right in her face. “I know exactly who I’m dealing with. A mere child who’s clearly had too much wine. I’m going to give you one more warning. Sit down, and we won’t have a problem.”
Lucia squeezed her right fist, ready to summon fire. She would burn these insolent men to ashes and wouldn’t bother to warn them.
This kingdom belonged to the Damoras. Not to Amara Cortas.
Sera wrung her hands. “Please, do as he says. Sit down and cause no more trouble.”
“You think this is trouble? I haven’t even begun to cause—”
And in one quick, violent burst, a sharp plume of pain exploded from Lucia’s core. She cried out, believing at first she’d been gored through her middle, and her deep wails burned her throat as she clutched at her stomach and dropped to the floor.
“What’s wrong?” Sera gasped.
“My—oh, no. No!” Lucia screamed, the sudden agony now far too much for her to bear . . .
And then the world fell to darkness all around her.
• • •
When Lucia woke, she was in a dark room, lying on a firm cot. Sitting in the chair next to her was Sera, holding a cool cloth against her forehead.
Lucia tried to sit up, but failed. Her body was weak, her muscles as sore as if she’d just attempted to trek across three kingdoms in a single day.
Sera eyed her with worry. “I thought you were going to die.”
Lucia stared at her, the horrible knowledge she’d gained in the tavern coming back to her in sharp, jagged pieces. “I’m still alive. I think.”
“Oh, you’re alive all right. And you’re damn lucky, too. When the Kraeshians arrived yesterday, there was a man—a Paelsian who patronized the tavern almost nightly—who stood up to the occupying soldiers. Guess what they did to reward his bravery? They drowned him in a bucket of water. The rest of us aren’t so foolish.”
Lucia stared at her, horrified. “This is wrong. Those soldiers—Amara—they shouldn’t be here. They can’t be here. I need to stop them.”
“I think you have more important things to think about. Like finding that friend of yours?”
She eyed the girl warily. “How do you know finding him is so important to me?”
Sera sighed, then took the damp cloth away. She
placed it on the side of a basin, then reached for a glass of water, which she brought to Lucia’s lips. Momentarily forgetting her suspicions about Sera’s preoccupation with Kyan, Lucia drank eagerly, grateful to be able to gulp down the cool liquid, which tasted like life itself to her parched throat.
“I understand why you might be angry with him,” Sera said. “Men are stupid and selfish. They’re not the ones who need to be responsible. They can have their fun with whomever, then wander off to the next girl who looks at them twice.”
“Trust me,” Lucia said with a weak scoff, “it wasn’t like that with Kyan.”
Sera took the empty water glass away and put a fresh cloth back on Lucia’s forehead. “So you just magically found yourself with child, did you?”
Lucia stared at her, mouth open in shock. “How do you—?”
“How do I know?” Sera laughed nervously. “I helped you into bed. I removed your robes so you wouldn’t overheat. The condition you’re in would have been obvious to a blind man.”
Lucia stared at her a moment longer, as Sera reached down to press her right hand to her belly. She looked down at Sera’s hand, and as she took in the silhouette of her body covered in the canvas bed sheet, her eyes widened.
The last time she’d examined her stomach, it had been flat, and her gradually fading magic and morning nausea had been the only signs of her pregnancy.
But something had changed in the time between finding Kyan’s crystal and entering the tavern. Because what Lucia stared at now, with horror in her eyes, was that very same stomach, but it was no longer flat like it was when she’d left the Sanctuary.
Instead, what she looked upon now was a great swell at her middle, an impossibly large belly. And it belonged to her.
CHAPTER 11
JONAS
THE SILVER SEA
Slowly, light returned to his world, and Jonas opened his eyes. Olivia stared down at him, her eyes warm and welling with relief.
“I’m glad to see you’ve finally returned to us,” she said.
He groaned and stretched his arms. “How long was I out?”
“Four days.”
His eyes shot wide open, and he sat up with a jerk. “Four days?”
She grimaced. “You weren’t unconscious the entire time, if that helps. There were times when you woke, delirious and flailing about.”
“No, that actually doesn’t help at all.” Jonas jumped up from the cot and stumbled to the mirror. The strange spiral, much more intricate and detailed in its design than the simple symbol for air magic, was still there. He’d hoped it had just been a bad dream.
“I have the mark of a Watcher,” he said.
“So, you know what it is.”
“Phaedra had one.” The Watcher who’d sacrificed her immortal life to save his had proven who and what she was by showing Jonas her mark. Hers had been different, though. It had been the same shape, but it had been a mark of gold that swirled and moved upon her skin as if to prove its magical origins. “And I know you have one too.”
“I do.” Olivia opened her cloak just a little to show him the edge of the golden mark upon her dark skin. He’d only seen flashes of it when she’d changed into her hawk form.
Jonas turned from the mirror to look into her emerald eyes. “I’m not going to beg you, Olivia. I’m simply going to ask you to please tell me more about this, about the prophecy there is about me. I’ve tried to deny its reality, but now I need to know. What’s happening to me? Am I . . .” He grappled to put his thoughts into words. “Am I turning into one of you?”
The thought was so ludicrous that he wanted to retrieve his words after he’d spoken them. But what else was he supposed to think?
Olivia twisted her hands, and for a moment, he thought she might try to escape, to turn into her hawk form and fly away to avoid his questions. Instead, she sighed and came to sit on the edge of his cot while he stood tensely by the porthole.
“Not exactly,” she said. “But you are a rare mortal indeed, Jonas Agallon. One touched by our magic at two very vulnerable times in your life—both when you were moments from death. With me, when I healed your shoulder, and with Phaedra, after you’d been stabbed by the Limerian soldier. You don’t know how rare that is.”
Those were two moments in his life he’d prefer to forget. “Perhaps not. So tell me.”
“I was there when Phaedra gave her life for yours—as a hawk, I watched from the top of another tent.”
His took a sharp breath in. “You did?”
She nodded grimly. “I watched with horror as Xanthus ended her life, watched her turn back to the magic we’re all created from. And I watched as some of that magic entered you, only moments past the point when you would have died without her intervention.”
“I . . . I didn’t feel anything.”
“No, you wouldn’t have. You shouldn’t have. And it wouldn’t have made any difference at all if not for the fire Kindred’s own magic rising up nearby. It worked to strengthen Phaedra’s magic within you. But that wouldn’t have been enough for this to happen.” Olivia nodded at his mark, which he now scratched absently. “I used earth magic to heal your shoulder when you were, again, on the brink of death, and I watched as you absorbed it like a sponge absorbing water. That magic has remained within you, joining with Phaedra’s, just as Timotheus foresaw.”
Jonas tried to understand, tried to deny this, tried to stop his heart from beating like the wings of a trapped bird within his chest. But then it suddenly occurred to him that he shouldn’t want to deny such incredible news.
“I have elementia within me,” he said, his voice raspy. “That means I can use it to fight Kyan and to cast Amara away from the shores of Mytica.” The more he considered this possibility, the more excited he became. “I need to go above and tell the others. They must be so confused about what happened—what I did to Felix. But this is amazing, Olivia. This will make all the difference in the world.”
He was a witch! A male witch! He had denied the existence of elementia and those who wielded it all his life, yet now he had this very magic at his fingertips.
Olivia caught his arm as he made for the door. “It’s not that easy, Jonas. Timotheus didn’t foresee you as a practitioner of magic, only as a vessel for it.”
“A vessel? Impossible. You witnessed what I did. I threw Felix across the deck with . . . air magic, yes?”
“That’s true. But that was an anomaly. It was merely a sign that this magic within you has matured, and that expenditure of energy alone rendered you unconscious for four days.”
He shook his head. Frustration stirred within him, eating away at his excitement. “I don’t understand.”
Olivia loosened her grip on his arm. “I know, and I apologize for your confusion. Timotheus keeps his knowledge very close, since he doesn’t trust many immortals, not even me. He hasn’t even shared the extent of your prophecy with me for fear that I’d tell you and you’d try to avoid it.” Her jaw clenched. “I’ve already said too much.”
He groaned. “You say just enough to drive me mad with curiosity and dread.”
“You can’t tell anyone about this.”
“Can’t I?” He pointed at the door. “Everyone on deck saw me do that. What am I supposed to do? Deny it?”
“Yes, actually.” She raised her chin. “I have explained to them that it was my doing. That I saw Felix from above hit you, and the reason I am here is to protect you. Of course they believed me.”
He stared at her. “They believe that you intervened with your own magic.”
“Yes.”
“And I’m not to say anything about this.”
“No. Not a word.” Her expression turned earnest. “It’s too dangerous. There are those who would target you, knowing that you’re a mortal filled with immortal magic.”
“Immortal magic that I can
’t access.” He stared down at his fist, remembering how it had glowed above deck.
“You don’t believe me, so you must see for yourself.” She gestured to the door. “Go ahead and try to break open this door with the air magic you so easily channeled the other day with Felix.”
It sounded like a challenge. Jonas looked past Olivia and furrowed his brow with concentration as he raised his hand toward the door. He focused on the attempt to summon this magic within him so hard that his hand began to tremble, his arm began to shake . . . but nothing happened.
“It means nothing,” he grunted. “I simply need to practice.”
“Perhaps,” Olivia allowed gently. “I only know what little I’ve been told.”
Disappointed, Jonas let his arm to drop to his side. “Of course, we wouldn’t want anything to be too easy for me. Being a witch, harnessing elementia at will . . . wouldn’t want that, would we?”
“Actually, it would have been incredibly useful to you.”
He glared at her. “You’re not helping.”
“Apologies.” Olivia grimaced. “The others are concerned about you. They’ll be pleased to know that you’ve finally woken up.”
Jonas went to the porthole and looked out at the expanse of sea. “How much farther to Paelsia?”
“We’re nearly there.”
“I slept almost the whole way.” He let out a shaky breath as he tried to come to terms with everything he’d learned. Denial would waste time they didn’t have. “What have I missed?”
“Not that much, actually. Taran continues to sharpen his blade in anticipation of killing Prince Magnus, Felix still suffers from his sickness of the sea, Ashur remains in his quarters much of the time, meditating, and Nic lurks around, and when the prince emerges, he watches him in a rather curious manner.”
“I did ask Nic to keep an eye on our resident prince. Best not to trust a Kraeshian, not even one who claims not to be our enemy.” Jonas blew out a breath as he tightened the ties on his shirt. “All right, nearly to Paelsia. Good.”
“Good?” she repeated.
Crystal Storm Page 12