The crowd cheered, and the air itself was infused with the sound of approval. She glanced at Nerissa, who smiled and nodded, encouraging her to begin.
Amara raised her arms, and her large audience went silent.
“I address the beautiful people of Paelsia, a kingdom that has endured many trials and tribulations through many generations.” Her voice resonated off the stone pillars, which helped to amplify the words so that even those in the stands could hear her. “I am Amara Cortas, the first empress of Kraeshia, and I bring you the official news that you are no longer citizens of Mytica, a trio of kingdoms that have oppressed you for a century, but you are now citizens of the great Kraeshian Empire—and your future is as bright as the sun that shines down upon us today!”
The crowd cheered, and Amara took a moment to scan the faces, some dirty, with threadbare clothes worn down with dust and age. Weary eyes looked up at her, eyes that had seen many leaders who had made false promises and delivered only pain and suffering. Still, she saw timid hope even in the oldest of eyes.
“We will tend to your land,” she continued. “We will make it rich again and ready to plant crops that will sustain you and your families. We will import livestock that will feed you. And as you continue to make the wine that Paelsia is famous for, the profits will be entirely yours, as I promise that there will be no Kraeshian taxes on this product for twenty years. The laws that have prevented legal export of this wine to anywhere but Auranos are hereby broken. I see Paelsia as a magnificent asset to my empire, and I want to show this by making my actions match my words. You are right to believe in me, for I believe in you. Together we will march forth into the future, hand in hand!”
The noise from the crowd swelled, and for a moment, Amara closed her eyes and allowed herself to soak it all in. This was why she’d sacrificed so much. This was why she’d done what she had.
This power.
No wonder her father had made so many harsh choices during his reign. This rush of obedience, of adoration, of awe was truly intoxicating.
Whether or not she could truly do all that she promised would have yet to be seen.
There was magic in the belief she felt from the Paelsian people. A magic so rich and pure that she wanted to bathe in it.
“Your grace!” Nerissa gasped.
Amara opened her eyes in time to see the glint of an arrow, and then one of her bodyguards shoved her out of the way. The arrow hit him in his throat, and he fell sputtering to the floor of the stage.
“What’s happening?” she demanded.
“The group of rebels who threatened to be here today—they’re here!” Nerissa grabbed her arm. Two more arrows flew toward her, narrowly missing her and hitting two other bodyguards.
“How many?” Amara managed. “How many rebels are here?”
“I don’t know—” Nerissa raised her head to look out at the crowd just as another arrow whizzed by. “Twenty, perhaps thirty or more.”
Amara watched with shock as her army of soldiers invaded the growing sea of civilians to apprehend the rebels. The soldiers cut down anyone who got into their way, be they rebel or Paelsian. The crowd panicked and tried to escape. Chaos broke out, cries of fear and outrage ringing all around as blood began to spill.
Paelsian men drew their weapons, their faces changing from hope to hate in an instant, and they began to fight not only with the soldiers but with each other, blades slicing flesh, fists hitting jaws and stomachs.
Savages, quick to violence, Kurtis had warned.
Mothers grabbed their children, crying and fleeing in all directions.
“What do we do?” Nerissa asked. She had crouched down next to Amara, and they were cowering now behind the podium.
“I don’t know,” Amara said quickly, then wanted to bite her tongue to take the words back.
Words of fear. Words of a victim.
She would not cower before rebels today or any day.
Her moment of fear quickly turned to anger. This, whatever this was, was not part of her plan. Those who wished to destroy her chance to make allies of these fierce people, who’d been ready to embrace her as their leader, would pay with their lives.
Amara bolted up from her hiding spot, her fists clenched, just as someone approached the stage from behind her. She could hear heavy footsteps stomping across the wooden surface.
She spun on her heels to see two of her bodyguards fall, their throats slashed. Behind them, a shockingly familiar face.
“Well, princess, I would bet a great many gold coins that you didn’t expect to see me again.”
Felix Gaebras held the tip of his sword only a couple of inches away from her face.
His was a face from her nightmares. Or perhaps they’d been premonitions. In these dreams, he’d been trying to kill her.
“Felix . . . you did this, all of this, just to get to me,” she began, taking a shaky step back from the young man she thought was long dead.
He smirked. “Honestly? I was simply observing from a safe distance. This was a happy coincidence. I guess there are many other rebels who want to watch your blood spill. But it looks like I’m the one who gets the honor.”
Her gaze whipped to her left to see three bodyguards racing toward Felix, but they were cut down by another young man with dark hair and an annoyed expression.
“This wasn’t the plan, Felix,” the young man shouted. “You’re going to get us both killed.”
“Quiet, Taran,” Felix replied. “I’m reconnecting with an old girlfriend.”
At the touch of his blade against her cheek, Amara looked right at his black eye patch. “Your eye . . .”
“Gone. Thanks to you.”
She flinched. “I know you must hate me for what I did.”
“Hate you?” His dark brows raised, shifting his eye patch a little. “Hate is such a tiny word, isn’t it?”
Amara tried to see if any guards were coming to her aid, but Felix’s friend Taran held them off with both the sword and the crossbow he was armed with.
Amara raised her eyes to meet Felix’s and filled her voice with as much regret as she could muster. “Whatever you’ve endured, my beast, I promise I can make it up to you.”
“Don’t call me that. You lost the right to call me that when you left me behind to die.” He touched the blade to her face again, nudging her gaze to turn to the crowd. “See what you did? This is your fault. Everything you touch ends in death.”
Her tense gaze moved across the crowd that had gathered from miles around to hear her speak. Many Paelsians lay dead amongst the fighting, trampled by others, killed by the blades of guards or their own countrymen.
He was right: This was her fault. A moment of vanity, the desire to feel the love of her new subjects after so much pain and disappointment, and it ended with death.
Everything ended in death.
The same hawk she’d seen earlier circling above the crowd squawked loud enough for Amara to hear it. Beneath the bird, someone trapped in the middle of the chaos caught her eye, a young man with unusually bright red hair who’d been making his way toward the stage.
She recognized him as Cleo’s friend—Nic. The one Ashur had become fixated upon.
Amara watched with horror as two Paelsians grabbed Nic, ripping his coin pouch off of the loop on his trousers. Nic grabbed for it, and one of the men’s knives flashed in the sunlight before he sank it into Nic’s chest.
She gasped.
Nic’s body dropped to the ground, her sight of it quickly lost in the crowd.
This was her fault, all her fault.
She frowned at the thought. No—this had been bad luck for Nic, unfortunate circumstances. But she had not murdered Cleo’s friend with her own hands. She refused to take the blame for other people’s misfortune.
While she’d hated her father and equally despised he
r brothers, the Cortas family was not weak in any way. That included her.
And beyond the Cortas family, women weren’t weak. They were leaders. Champions. Warriors. Queens.
Amara had faced far greater foes in her life than Felix Gaebras.
She forced her voice to shake as she spoke her next words to him. “You’re better than this, Felix. Killing an unarmed girl? This isn’t you.”
“Not me? I’m an assassin by trade, love. Killing’s what I do best.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she watched his friend single-handedly fight off two more of her men. “I now rule a full third of the world and control all that fortune. Do you want to be a very wealthy man?”
He shrugged a shoulder. “Not really.”
She’d forgotten that he’d been different from other men she’d known—an asset in the beginning, but a problem now. “Women, then. Ten, twenty, fifty girls who desire only you.”
He fixed her with the coldest smile she’d ever seen. “And how would I know they were not cold, deceptive bitches like you? No deal, empress.”
Amara summoned tears to her eyes. She hadn’t cried in so long, but it was a talent she’d developed at an early age. The easiest way for a woman to avoid trouble or punishment, she’d found, was to feign weakness among men.
The tears quickly began to stream freely down her cheeks. “I planned to free you, but they told me you were already dead, killed in an attempt to escape. My heart ached for the thought that I’d lost you forever. I should have let you in on my plan, but I was afraid . . . so afraid. Oh, Felix, I didn’t want anything to happen to you, truly. I—I love you! I always will, no matter what you choose to do today!”
Felix stared at her, as if stunned by her words. “What did you just say? You love me?”
“I do. I love you.”
The tip of his sword wavered. But it quickly sprang back up.
“Nice try, love. I might believe that if I were a complete and utter idiot.” He smirked at her. “Time to die.”
A moment later, Carlos, who’d managed to get past Taran and up onto the stage, tackled Felix to the ground. Before she even had a chance to catch her breath, both Taran and Felix were brought before her and forced down to their knees.
Nerissa returned to her side, and Amara took her hand in hers, squeezing it for reassurance that her attendant had not been harmed.
“The other rebels are dead, your grace,” Carlos told her. His face bled from a vicious cut across the bridge of his nose.
She acknowledged this with a curt nod, then gazed down at Felix.
He shrugged again. “Can’t say I didn’t try.”
“Should have been quicker.”
“I like to talk too much, I guess.” He gave her a wide grin, but his single eye was ice cold. It flicked to Nerissa for a brief moment before returning to her. “Let’s revisit that offer of the harem of beautiful women, shall we?”
Amara touched Felix’s cheek, drawing his face up. “I am regretful about your eye. I did enjoy that eye, among other parts of you. For a few nights, anyway.”
“Shall we execute them immediately, your grace?” Carlos asked, his sword at his side.
She waited for fear to flash through Felix’s single eye, but he remained defiant. “If I spare you, what will you do? Try to kill me again?”
“In a heartbeat,” he said.
Taran groaned. “You are a damn idiot,” he muttered.
Her beast had entertained her for a time. He still did.
A part of her was still drawn to him, despite everything. But it didn’t matter. He should have died long ago so he’d no longer be a problem for her.
Amara nodded at her guard. “Throw them both in the pit. I’ll deal with them later.”
CHAPTER 20
LUCIA
PAELSIA
“She’s incredible. Absolutely beautiful and glorious. More like a goddess than a mere mortal, if you ask me. I know in my heart that she will save us all.”
Lucia paused at the vendor’s stall as she searched for an apple that didn’t have any imperfections—seemingly an impossibility in Paelsia—and glanced at the fruit seller speaking to her friend.
“I couldn’t agree more,” agreed the friend.
Could they be speaking of the prophesied sorceress?
“Pardon my rudeness, but may I ask whom you’re speaking about?” Lucia asked. It was the first time she’d spoken aloud in over a day, and her voice cracked.
The vendor glanced at her. “Well, the empress, of course. Who else?”
“Yes, who else indeed,” Lucia said under her breath. “So you believe that Amara Cortas will save you. Save you from what, exactly?”
The Paelsian women glanced at each other before regarding Lucia with weary patience.
“You’re not from around here, are you?” One pursed her wrinkled lips. “No, with that accent, I believe you’re Limerian, aren’t you?”
“I was born in Paelsia and adopted into a Limerian family.”
“How fortunate of you to have escaped these borders at an early age, then.” The vendor glanced at her friend. “If only we all had been given that opportunity.”
The two laughed humorlessly at this.
Lucia’s patience was nearing an end. “I’ll buy this apple.” She pocketed the piece of fruit and handed over a silver coin. “As well as any information you can give me about the empress’s whereabouts.”
“Gladly.” The woman greedily took the coin, her eyes narrowing. “Where have you been these last few days, young lady, that you wouldn’t know all about the empress? Sleeping under a moss patch with the warlogs?”
“Something like that.” Actually, she’d been recovering her strength at the inn in eastern Paelsia until she couldn’t take anymore and needed to escape. Despite the barmaid Sera’s concern for her health, Lucia knew she had to leave there lest her belly grow so big that she never got out of bed again.
She slid her hand over her swollen stomach, and the woman noticed, her eyes growing wide.
“Oh, my dear! I didn’t realize you were with child. And so far along!”
Lucia waved off her concern. “I’m fine,” she lied.
“Where is your family? Your husband? Don’t tell me you’re on your own here in the market today!”
It seemed that being with child made complete strangers want to treat her with much more kindness than they otherwise would. It had served her well during her uncomfortable, slow journey west.
“My husband is . . . dead,” she said carefully. “And now I’m searching for my family.”
The vendor’s friend rushed toward her and took Lucia’s hands in hers. “My deepest condolences for your painful loss.”
“Thank you.” Lucia got a sudden and annoying lump in her throat. Along with the swollen belly, her emotions had become much larger and harder to control.
“If you need a place to stay . . .” the vendor said.
“Thank you again, but no. All I need is information about the empress. Is she still in Limeros?”
The two shared another look of disbelief that Lucia was so vastly uninformed about such things.
“The great Empress Cortas,” the vendor began, “is currently residing at Chief Basilius’s former compound. From that location, she will be making a speech tomorrow, addressing all Paelsians who are able to attend.”
“A speech to Paelsians. But why?”
A little compassion lifted from the vendor’s face. “Well, why not? Perhaps you’ve forgotten because of the many years you’ve been blessed to live in Limeros, but life is difficult here in Paelsia.”
“To say the very least,” added her friend.
The vendor nodded. “The empress sees our struggles. Recognizes them. And she wants to do something about it. She values Paelsians as an important part of her empir
e.”
Lucia tried not to roll her eyes. She’d had no true concept of what an incredibly effective and power-hungry manipulator Amara had been during the few times she’d spoken with the former princess when the Damoras had resided at the Auranian palace.
“I do, of course, question the empress’s wisdom in marrying the King of Blood,” the vendor mused.
“Apologies,” Lucia said, staring now. “Did you say she’s married to the King of . . . to . . . to King Gaius?”
“I did. But I’ve also heard rumors that he’s currently missing, along with his demon heir. We can only hope that the empress has buried both of them twenty feet deep.”
“Indeed,” Lucia murmured, her stomach twisting at the thought. Sera had made no mention of her father’s marriage to Amara. Could it really be true? “I . . . I need to go. I need to . . .”
She turned on her heel and disappeared into the market’s crowd.
• • •
Once, Alexius had guided Lucia in how to find and awaken the Kindred with the ring of the sorceress. She’d hoped such a spell might work to help her find Magnus and her father. However, while she managed to make the ring spin as it had in her chambers at the Auranian palace, all her attempts to summon the sparkling map of Mytica and pinpoint their location failed. Weakened from using her elementia, she had to take constant rests as she made her way on foot, along with many other Paelsians, to the compound of the former Paelsian leader.
She refused to believe her family was dead. They were far more resourceful than that. And if the king had married Amara—a thought so ludicrous that she could barely wrap her mind around it—then he had done so for strategic reasons, for reasons of power and survival.
True, Amara was young and very beautiful, but her father was far too smart and ruthless to make such a choice out of mere infatuation.
There were thousands of Paelsians gathered just outside the compound walls when she finally arrived. The closest village was a half day’s journey from here, and it was another long day, perhaps two in her current condition, to get to Basilia, which was Lucia’s original destination.
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