Crystal Storm

by Morgan Rhodes

  “No execution,” Amara told Kurtis, sliding her fingertip around the edge of the goblet. “They can stay in the pit until I decide what I wish to do with them.”

  Chief Basilius had been kind enough to leave behind an ingenious prison. In the center of his walled compound was a large hole thirty feet deep, its sides crafted from smooth sandstone. There was no escaping from it, but Amara had asked for ten guards to keep watch on Felix and Taran just in case they might be able to sprout wings and fly away.

  “Pardon me for saying this, empress,” Kurtis went on, “but I must raise my concerns once again about staying in Paelsia much longer. As you witnessed for yourself, despite winning the people over with the promises you’ve made to them, they are very dangerous and quick to violence, like cornered, injured wild animals. And if there are more rebel factions here in Mytica—let alone any who might arrive from overseas . . .” He shivered. “This is far too dangerous a place for you to remain.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut as her head began to throb from the sound of his reedy voice. “And what would you suggest, Lord Kurtis?”

  “I would suggest that we continue on to Auranos, to the City of Gold and the royal palace there. I assure you that it would be much more suited to your greatness.”

  “I know how beautiful the palace is, Lord Kurtis. I’ve been there before.”

  “I’ve already written to my father about this possibility, and he enthusiastically approves. There will be a great feast planned in your honor, and the greatest dressmaker in Hawk’s Brow, Lorenzo Tavera, will be commissioned to create a magnificent gown for you to wear to greet your Auranian subjects.”

  Amara stared at Kurtis so intensely that he took a shaky step backward.

  “I don’t know,” she said quietly, still running her finger slowly around the rim of her glass. “What do you think, Nerissa?”

  Nerissa took a moment to consider this. “I think Lord Kurtis is correct that Lorenzo Tavera would create a magnificent gown. He is the one who created Princess Cleiona’s wedding gown.”

  “But what of the move there?”

  “I think that is entirely up to you, your grace.”

  “Lord Kurtis.” Amara leaned forward to regard the kingsliege, holding on to the last sliver of patience she had within her. “I think it’s a wonderful idea. However, I’m not ready to leave Paelsia quite yet. You shall go in my place to personally oversee the creation of this gown and the preparation of this feast. And you will leave immediately.”

  “What?” Kurtis frowned deeply. “I . . . I meant that we should all go. I am your royal advisor and—”

  “And that’s exactly why it’s so important that you are the one who’ll represent me there.”

  “But I had hoped to be present when Prince Magnus was finally captured.”

  “Of course you had. But as you so graciously pointed out, other matters hold much more importance for me, such as gowns and feasts in Auranos.” Amara waved him away. “You will leave the compound by sundown. That is an order, Lord Kurtis.”

  His jaw tightened, and for a moment she thought he might actually argue with her. She waited, considering removing his other hand as a penalty for insubordination.

  Instead, he gave a firm nod. “Yes, empress. As you wish.”

  Kurtis left the room.

  Amara gestured to a guard near the door. “Ensure that he does exactly as I commanded.”

  The guard bowed and followed Kurtis.

  “Well, little empress, it certainly looks as if you have everything under control here.”

  Amara’s grip tightened on her golden goblet at the sound of Kyan’s voice, unexpected after three long days of silence.

  “You may leave as well, Nerissa,” Amara said.

  “Yes, empress.” Nerissa bowed and did as she was told.

  If everyone were as obedient, as agreeable as Nerissa Florens, life would be much sweeter and simpler, Amara thought as she watched her lovely attendant leave the room and close the door behind her.

  “When will we perform the ritual?” she asked.

  “These are the words you greet me with after my travels? I have to say I’m underwhelmed, little empress.”

  “I’m not a little empress,” she said, her voice rising. “I am the empress.”

  “You’re upset. With me or with the world as a whole?”

  “I nearly died while you were away. Rebels attempted to assassinate me—here, where you told me to come. The very place where you promised I would become more powerful than anyone else.”

  “Yet you’re alive and look very well. Obviously they failed.”

  “No thanks to you.” It seemed she couldn’t quite control her impatience today, not even in the presence of a god.

  “And what would you have liked me to do had I been by your side? Did you have a torch I might have made burn brighter to scare the rebels away? I already explained to you that the full power of what I am is stifled in this incorporeal form.”

  “Yes, you did explain that.” She stood up so that she could gaze out her window at the open arena where fifty-three people, including Cleo’s friend Nic, had been killed. Patches of blood stained the ground. “Actually, apart from a swelling in my fireplace in Limeros and a few lit candles, I’ve seen no signs of your magic at all. I’ve heard so much about the magic of the Kindred, so I must admit my disappointment.”

  “I understand your impatience, little empress, as a mortal’s life is short, but I will caution you not to speak with such disrespect to me.”

  Amara tried very hard to keep a hold on her rising anger. “I should return to Kraeshia to my grandmother’s side to help her deal with the last traces of the revolution there. She’s old—she shouldn’t have to take on so much responsibility at her age.”

  “The ritual draws nearer than you might think. I have successfully gathered the pieces that we will need. We will need sacrifices, though. Blood will be necessary to strengthen this magic, since it does not come from the sorceress herself.”

  “I have potential sacrifices waiting.” She hated to hope, but his words made her heart clench. “When do we begin?”

  “When the storm comes, all will be revealed.”

  She was about to say something else, perhaps throw her goblet across the room with frustration and demand a plainer explanation, but a knock on the door interrupted her thoughts.

  “What is it?” she snapped.

  A guard opened the door and bowed low before her. “Empress, Princess Cleiona of Auranos has arrived at the compound gates and has asked to see you. Do you wish to see her, or shall we throw her in the pit with the others?”

  Amara stared at him, not certain if she’d heard him correctly.

  “Is she alone?” she asked.

  “She has one Limerian guard with her.”

  “And no one else?”

  “No one else, empress.”

  “I want to see her. Bring her to me immediately.”

  “Yes, empress.”

  “So it seems she did survive,” Amara said under her breath. “And after everything, she’s come to me?”

  What did it mean? Cleo had to know that Amara would want her dead for what had happened between them last.

  “Princess Cleiona,” Kyan said. “I know this name. I’ve seen her before. The sorceress despises her.”

  “I’m sure many people despise Cleo.”

  “Do you believe her arrival here is a trick of some kind?”

  “What do you think?”

  “I want to know what you think.”

  Amara sent a dark glare in the direction of the disembodied voice. “I’m beginning to think that Cleo may prove to be of more use to me than you have. When this mysterious storm you speak of comes, please let me know.”

  Amara waited for his response but didn’t receive one. She cu
rsed herself for giving in to her bluntness with such an unpredictable creature.

  It didn’t matter. Even if she’d somehow displeased him, he would soon remember that if he wished to complete his blood ritual here, he needed her help as much as she needed his.

  It wasn’t very long before Cleo entered the room, flanked by two of Amara’s guards. Her cheeks were red, her gaze furious. Her gown was tattered, and there were smears of dirt on her face and bare arms.

  “You fought against my guards?” Amara asked, raising a brow.

  “When treated with such disrespect, I’d fight anyone,” Cleo replied tightly.

  Amara shifted her gaze to the guard. “Where is her subordinate?”

  “He’s being detained in an interrogation room,” the guard replied.

  “No need for that. Put him with the other prisoners, but don’t harm him. Not yet, anyway.”

  “Yes, empress.”

  “Leave us. Close the door.”

  The guards eyed each other, and Amara noticed that they both had fresh scratches on their faces. “Are you certain you don’t want protection?” one asked.

  “Do as I say,” Amara said through clenched teeth.

  “Yes, empress.”

  They left and closed the door.

  Amara sat down and poured herself another glass of wine. “I’d offer you some, Cleo, but I’d be afraid you’d try to break this bottle over my head again.” She paused to take a sip from her full goblet of sweet wine. “Have you come to apologize for that and to beg for my mercy?”

  “No,” Cleo replied simply.

  “I’d come to think you were dead, buried under a snowdrift near Lord Gareth’s villa.”

  “As you can see, I’m very much alive.”

  “You certainly are.” Amara watched her over the edge of her cup. “Several of my soldiers were murdered the night you escaped. Was that your doing?”

  “Will answering that question truthfully earn your respect or have me thrown in your dungeon?”

  “It’s a pit, actually. Quite effective. And that depends entirely on your answer.”

  “Fine.” Cleo nodded. “I needed to defend myself. So, yes, I killed them.”

  “With a bow and arrow.”

  “Just the arrow. I confess I have yet to master the skill of archery.”

  “How were you able to kill men twice your size with just an arrow?”

  “My appearance leads men to believe I’m harmless.”

  “But you’re far from harmless, aren’t you?” Amara couldn’t help but smile as she leaned back in her chair, took another sip from her glass, and regarded the girl before her, who had surprised her with her thirst for survival at any cost. “You don’t look like a royal anymore. Your dress is torn, your hair is tangled. You look much more like a peasant.”

  “Looking like a royal takes both time and attendants to achieve. Lately, I’ve simply been trying to survive to see the next sunrise and, of course, fight against your guards when they try to drag me around like a rag doll.”

  Something about this meeting, about Cleo’s bravery in coming to visit an enemy without a trace of fear in her eyes, had quickly gained Amara’s respect. “I made you an offer of an alliance when we last spoke. I believe you already gave me your answer to that.” She gingerly rubbed the back of her head, which had healed, save for the memory of the wound. “I was very angry with you for your response, since I thought we could make a good team.”

  “We still could,” Cleo replied readily.

  How unsurprising that the girl’s mind had changed since losing everything she once valued.

  “Apologies,” Cleo said a moment later, “but I’ve been traveling so long my feet feel as if they may drop off of my legs if I don’t sit down immediately.”

  Amara waved a hand at a nearby chair. “Please.”

  Cleo sat down heavily. “I’m not here to waste any more time. Your words the last time we spoke may have been encouraging, but your actions have never given me much hope for an alliance between us. Do you really blame me for how I reacted, no matter what I was promised?”

  “I appreciate your bluntness. No, I suppose the longer I’ve had to think about it, the less I blame you for nearly shattering my skull.” She smiled tightly. “I believe I would have done the very same thing had our positions been reversed.”

  “I’m sure you would have.”

  Amara absently swirled the wine, looking down into its depths. “I was never your enemy, Cleo.”

  “You wanted to possess the Kindred and were willing to do whatever it took to claim it.”

  “True.” Amara considered her for a moment. “You proclaimed Magnus king during your speech to the Paelsians, despite his family stealing your throne. Why?”

  Cleo’s expression shadowed. “Because I hated his father for giving Mytica to you so easily. The Limerian people weren’t ready to accept me as their queen yet, so I presented them with a slightly less distasteful king than Magnus’s father.”

  “So it’s not because you’d fallen in love with him.”

  “Amara, you want me to be blunt? I’ll be blunt. Politics and love should have nothing to do with each other. Do you disagree?”

  “I don’t disagree.” She regarded the blond girl for a moment in silence. “Why are you here, Cleo?”

  “Because I’ve heard that you don’t trust men—any men. Yet it seems to me that you’re surrounded by them. Very few women hold important positions in this world, other than being the wives or mothers of important men. I believe that should change. You control a third of the entire world now, a fraction that is sure to grow over the years and decades to come. I believe you will need help with that.”

  “And you’re offering me that help.”

  Cleo raised her chin. “That’s right.”

  “Or . . . perhaps this is just a ruse to distract me.”

  “Distract you from what?” Cleo said evenly.

  “From demanding your head. You march in here like you have any right to be within ten paces of me. Are you that desperate now, that you would risk so much by coming here and expecting me to be kind?”

  “Kindness is not something I expect from you, Amara. If you spoke to me with kindness today, I’d assume you were lying. Very well—what can I do to prove my worth to you?”

  Amara considered this carefully. “Information. Tell me something I don’t already know that may adversely affect my reign as empress.”

  Cleo chewed her bottom lip while Amara waited as patiently as she was able to. Then the girl’s aquamarine eyes rose to meet hers.

  “Your brother Ashur is alive.” Cleo took a moment to observe Amara’s shocked expression. “I take it he hasn’t arrived yet.”

  Amara chest tightened at the possibility, but her eyes narrowed on the princess. “Impossible. Of all the lies you could tell, that was not one that will serve you well. My patience with you is finished. Guards!”

  The door opened, and Amara was surprised to see Carlos, not a regular guard. “Empress, I’m here to announce that there has been another arrival at the gates,” he said.

  She frowned. “Send them off. I don’t want to see another unexpected visitor. And take this deceitful creature away. Put her with the others while I decide how I want her to die.”

  “As you wish, your grace.” Carlos hesitated, but only for a moment. “But I think you should see this visitor.”

  “Whoever it is can wait.”

  “He won’t wait, your grace.” Carlos’s gaze turned to his left before he immediately fell to his knees, bowing his head.

  And then Amara watched with utter disbelief as her dead brother walked into the room.

  CHAPTER 28

  CLEO

  PAELSIA

  Amara stared, still and silent, at Ashur for so long that Cleo thought she’d turned to s
tone.

  “Sister, I’m sure you’re surprised to see me,” he said before turning a raised black eyebrow to Cleo. “And here you are as well.”

  “Yes, here I am,” Cleo confirmed, her heart pounding hard. “I seem to have beat you here.”

  “You did. Then again, I didn’t rush. I needed time to think.”

  “How odd. Thieves are usually in much more of a hurry.”

  He frowned at this. “I’m sure they are.”

  “Emperor Cortas, what would you like me to do with the prisoner?” the guard asked.

  Prisoner. Cleo’s gut wrenched at the thought that her journey would be cut short before she had a chance to make any difference. She had to think, to figure out a way to deal with this outcome. Manipulation was her best weapon. She needed to gain Amara’s confidence, to get close to the most powerful woman in the world so she could help to destroy her.

  “I want you to—” Amara began, then frowned. “Did you say emperor?”

  The guard ignored her, his attention fully on Ashur. “Emperor?”

  “Leave us to speak in private,” Ashur told him.

  The guard left, bowing all the way out of the room.

  Ashur’s gaze returned to his sister. “It seems now that our father and brothers are dead, I’m next in line to rule. You know very well I never wanted a responsibility like that, but I will do what I must.” When she didn’t reply, he continued, “Nothing to say to me after all this time apart, Sister?”

  Amara now shook her head slowly from side to side. “This isn’t possible.”

  Cleo wanted to bite her tongue, to keep from saying anything that might draw attention to her and remind Amara that she wanted her dead.

  But she couldn’t help it.

  “It’s very possible,” Cleo said with a nod. “Ashur is alive and well. It was a surprise to me too, but I’m sure it’s a bit more of shock to you. After all, you did murder him in cold blood, didn’t you?”

  “Clearly, I didn’t,” Amara said, her words crisper and harder-edged than Cleo would have expected, considering how stunned the empress appeared to be.

  “You did,” Ashur confirmed, absently stroking his chest. “There was no mistaking the pain of the blade as it slid into my skin and bone. The cold look in your eyes that I’d seen cast upon others in our lives, but never before upon me. The horrible sensation of betrayal that broke my heart just as you sliced into it without any hesitation.”