Cleo wanted to rush forward, to knock the dagger from the witch’s grip, but she knew it would be the last thing she ever did. She felt utterly helpless as she watched this dark ritual unfold in front of her.
But despite her anger with Magnus about so many things, she knew that he wouldn’t leave the compound if he managed to escape from Amara’s guards again. He wouldn’t focus on saving only himself.
No. He would intervene when it seemed like all hope was lost.
Had he understood the signal she’d tried to give him—having him call her Cleiona? She needed him to know that she’d tried to align with Amara only out of necessity and opportunity. That she had meant to use that alliance to regain her power.
To regain Magnus’s power as well.
The storm above grew more violent. Rain began to fall in sheets, soaking Cleo.
Selia raised her hands, her eyes glowing. The crystals flared with light, like tiny suns. Cleo gasped aloud as the wisps of magic that had been inside the orbs streamed outward.
Three crystals. But there were now four wisps streaking through the air all around them: red, blue, white, and green.
Why did Selia say the ritual required the amber orb if Kyan was already here? Cleo wondered. Did it matter? Could it make a difference in stopping this?
“Fire god,” Selia said. “You have chosen. And now it is time for you to claim your new flesh-and-blood vessel.”
The flame-red wisp of magic swirled violently around the pit before it finally plunged deep into Nic’s chest.
“Nic, no!” Cleo yelled.
Nic’s eyes widened as he cried out. Choking, he collapsed to the ground in a heap.
Then her dearest friend slowly turned to face her.
“Nic,” she gasped. “Are you all right?”
He frowned. “I took the name of my last host, Kyan. I like it much better than Nic. I shall keep it.”
She stared at him with disbelief. “What? What have you done? Nic, can you hear me? You have to fight this!”
“Nic is gone,” the boy who looked like Nic told her. “But I assure you that he’s been sacrificed for the greater good of the world.”
Hot tears rolled down her cheeks. She’d just gotten him back, and now he was lost to her all over again.
“Earth goddess,” Selia said, stealing Cleo’s attention from Nic, “you are free. Claim your flesh-and-blood vessel.”
The green wisp of magic swirled around the pit, and this time everyone stepped back from it, watching it with fear.
Olivia gasped as the magic plunged into her.
Nic . . . or Kyan . . . or—Cleo didn’t know what to think—went directly to Olivia and took her hands in his. “Sister?”
“Yes.” She looked up into his eyes. “You did what you promised. I am finally free!”
“Yes. And you’ve chosen an excellent vessel.”
“What was her name?” she asked.
“Olivia,” he told her.
“Olivia,” she repeated, nodding. “Yes, Olivia will be my name now.”
“Mother.” Gaius had moved to Selia’s side, his black hair slicked to his face from the rain.
“I’m sorry, my son,” she said to him, shaking her head. “You have the bloodstone; it will have to be enough.”
He nodded. “You’ve always put me first, no matter what you had to do.”
She searched his face. “I shouldn’t have done what I did to Elena. I see now that it hurt you more than I thought it would. But I just wanted you to be free.”
“I know. And you were right. My love for her clouded my mind. It threatened to destroy my thirst for power.” He took her face gently between his hands and leaned forward to kiss her forehead. “Thank you for helping to make me the man I am today.”
She touched his hand, then frowned. “Wait. Where is the—”
With a sharp twist, he snapped his mother’s neck and let her body fall to the ground.
Kyan stared down at the witch, then his furious glare turned to the king. “What have you done?”
“I’ve interrupted your self-serving ritual,” Gaius said, glancing down at the body of his mother. “I knew there was a good reason I hadn’t killed her yet.”
Kyan eyed the remaining two wisps of magic with anger in his stolen brown eyes. “Little queen, I need you now. I need blood descended from a sorceress—your blood. The magic from it will be enough for now. Later, I’ll find another obedient Oldling to seal all that’s been done here.”
He was right next to Cleo, holding Selia’s dagger. “I will give you your throne. All of Mytica. All of this world and beyond. Anything you desire.”
Tears mixed with the streaming rain on Cleo’s face. “Give the dagger to me.”
He did as she asked, and she looked at the dagger in her hand, knowing she had to do this. Knowing there was no choice.
Kyan could not leave here today, no matter whose body he had stolen. But just as she raised the dagger to thrust the blade into Nic’s heart, Ashur caught her wrist.
She stared up at him as the rain came down in torrents upon them.
“No,” he said. The single word held no room for argument. He squeezed her wrist until she gasped with pain and dropped the weapon.
When she turned back to face Kyan, he slapped Cleo so hard she spun backward, hitting the wall of the pit.
“You disappoint me, little queen,” he snarled.
Magnus, she thought with panic. Now would be a perfect time for you to save the day.
The walls of the pit began to crumble inward. The blue and white swirls of magic—the water and air gods—continued to spiral around the pit.
“Brother, we have a problem,” Olivia, now possessed by the earth Kindred, growled. “The others are ready, and time is running out. How do we finish the ritual without a witch to help us?”
As if in reply, the white wisp of magic shot toward its chosen host and disappeared into Taran’s chest. He gasped and fell to his knees.
Before Cleo could say a word, cry out, or stagger away from the rebel, the blue wisp was right in front of her.
It felt as if she had been hit by a thirty-foot wave, knocking her backward and choking her on its salt water.
The water Kindred had chosen her as its vessel.
Cleo stared upward at the stormy sky, the rain falling upon her as she fought to retain control over her body. She knew she couldn’t weaken now, but how was she supposed to fight against a god?
“We will return to fix this,” Kyan roared with anger before he turned into a column of flame and shot out of the pit. Olivia, casting a hateful glare at Cleo, crumbled as if made from dirt and disappeared into the ground.
Taran was at Cleo’s side, helping her to sit up.
She stared at him, confused. “Taran . . .”
“Are you still you?” he asked. When she didn’t answer, he shook her roughly. “Answer me. Are you still you?”
She managed to nod. “I—I’m still me.”
“So am I.” Taran frowned and held out his right hand. A simple spiral—the mark of air magic—was on his palm, as if branded there.
Cleo looked down at her left palm to see the two parallel wavy lines that created the water symbol.
“The witch was killed before she could make it permanent with us,” she said. “We have the elemental magic inside of us, but we haven’t lost our minds or our souls.”
He searched her face, his brows knitting together. “Do you really think so?”
She shook her head, her mind a jumble of confusion. “I don’t know. I don’t know anything for sure right now.”
Cleo searched for Magnus again, peering up at the edge of the pit and hoping he would suddenly appear. When he didn’t, she held her hand out to Taran. “Help me up.”
Taran did as she asked. “What happe
ns now?”
The rain still poured down on them. New guards arrived and stared down at the group at the bottom of the pit.
“Empress?” one asked tentatively.
Amara tore her shocked gaze from Cleo, a deep frown creasing her forehead, and looked up at the men. “Get us out of here.”
The guards brought a ladder that sank into the mud at the bottom of the pit. One by one, the group silently exited. With her broken leg, Amara required two guards to physically assist her.
“Kyan wanted everyone’s blood to spill,” Amara said at the top, her tone void of any discernable emotion. “That, with the witch’s magic, would have made the ritual permanent.”
“And you agreed to that—to killing us all,” Felix said, his hands fisted. “Why am I not surprised?”
Amara flinched. “It didn’t happen, did it?”
“No thanks to you,” he said, scowling. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you pay for what you did here today.”
“So, what does it mean?” Nerissa asked. Enzo stood protectively beside her, his hand at her waist. “None of what the witch did is permanent? Not even with Nic and Olivia?”
Amara shook her head. “I don’t know.”
“You stopped me,” Cleo said to Ashur, who hadn’t said a word since they’d exited the pit.
“You were going to stab Nicolo. I couldn’t allow that.”
“He’s lost,” her voice broke. “He’s gone.”
“Do you know that for sure?” His expression hardened. “I don’t. And if there’s a way, I will bring him back to us. Do you hear me?”
All she could do was nod, hoping desperately that he might be right.
The king was the last to climb out of the pit.
“Where is my son, Amara?” he asked.
“I don’t know that either,” Amara said.
Magnus’s continued absence wasn’t right. He should have been found by now.
“You have to find him,” Cleo managed, fresh panic swirling inside of her.
“I will,” Amara said.
“Yet you don’t sound like you give a damn. Listen to me carefully: You need to find him.”
“He’s likely dead,” Amara said bluntly. Then she choked and started spitting up mouthfuls of water. “What—what are you doing?”
Cleo realized that her hands were clenched at her sides so tightly that her nails dug into her palms. She felt like she was spinning. She forced her left hand open to see that the water symbol had begun to glow.
Water magic. The water Kindred was inside of her, but not in control of her actions.
She felt something warm under her nose and touched it to realize that it was blood.
“The power of a god within the form of a mortal,” Gaius said with awe. “Without the full ritual to finalize it . . . it is a dangerous position for you to be in, princess. And you as well, Taran. But you’re right: We must find my son.”
Nerissa stepped forward, tentatively taking Cleo’s hand in hers and squeezing it. Cleo met her anguished gaze.
“I saw a guard hit him, princess,” she whispered, shaking her head. “He hit the prince hard and then dragged him away. I . . . I fear that Amara might be right. I’m so sorry.”
Cleo stared at her friend, her eyes burning. “No,” she managed. “No, please no. That can’t be true. It can’t be.”
Taran and Felix shared a worried look. The rebel uneasily glanced down at his own palm that bore the air magic symbol.
“What do you care of Magnus’s fate, Cleo?” Amara asked, her voice holding a tremor that Cleo had never heard before. “I thought you hated him.”
“You’re wrong, I don’t hate him,” Cleo managed softly. Then stronger: “I love him. I love Magnus with all my heart. And I swear, if he’s . . . dead . . . if I’ve lost both Nic and Magnus today . . .” Her voice broke as she raised her gaze, seeing that the others now watched her with fear in their eyes. The bottomless sensation of cool, powerful water magic flowed just beneath the surface of her skin, as if waiting to be unleashed. “I don’t think this world will survive my grief.”
CHAPTER 33
MAGNUS
PAELSIA
Magnus blinked his eyes open, frowning with confusion at the aching pain in his arms. It took him a moment before he realized that he was vertical. His arms were raised above his head, shackled and chained to the ceiling.
He was in a dark room lit only by a few torches.
“He wakes. Finally. I was about to send for some smelling salts.”
He frowned, not understanding. Still dizzy.
“Greetings, my old friend.” The voice was familiar. Painfully familiar.
And then he understood all too well.
“Kurtis,” Magnus said, tasting coppery blood in his mouth. “How delightful to see you again.”
“Ah, you say the words, yet deep in my heart I know you’re lying.” The former grand kingsliege walked a slow circle around Magnus, a smug smile on his thin lips.
“What did you do with Nerissa and Nic?”
“Don’t worry about them, old friend. Worry about yourself.”
Magnus tried to summon a sense of where he was, casting a look around the room. It was difficult, since one of his eyes was swollen shut.
“I saw your lovely wife earlier,” Kurtis said. “She didn’t see me, of course. Given how we last left things between us, I feel like Cleo might still be cross with me.”
“Don’t you dare speak her name,” Magnus growled.
Kurtis stopped in front of Magnus and cocked his head, still smiling that damned smile of his. “Cleo. Cleo, Cleo, Cleo. Do you know what I’m going to do to her? I would love it, truly love it, if you could be there to watch.”
He leaned closer and whispered in Magnus’s ear a list of horrors that would cause anyone—man or woman—to beg for death long before such a relief finally came.
“I swear to the goddess,” Magnus said, “I will kill you long before you lay a single finger upon her.”
“I thought I might be getting close enough to do just that, with our archery lessons. I know you watched us. Was that jealousy in your eyes? It seems the rumors of hatred between the two of you are far from true, aren’t they? Yet what do you care about her fate anymore? She betrayed you for a chance to align with the empress.”
“I wouldn’t give a damn if she betrayed me to align with every demon in the darklands, I will still kill you if you even look at her again.”
“Yet, in your current predicament,” Kurtis glanced up at the chains, “I’d really, really like to see you try.”
“You wish to torture me? Some sort of retribution for what I did to you?”
“Oh, yes, I wish to torture you. And then I wish to kill you very slowly.” He raised the stump where his hand used to be. “And I would advise you to save your breath rather than beg for your life. You’ll need it for all the screaming you’ll do.”
Part of Magnus, deep inside, knew the truth of what he saw in Kurtis’s eyes. There would no mercy here. But Magnus Damora would not beg for his own life.
“I would make a better living ally than a dead enemy,” he said instead. “Remember, you are currently a Limerian in the center of thousands of Kraeshians and tens of thousands of Paelsians.”
Kurtis’s lips peeled back from his teeth as his sinister smile widened. “One problem at a time, my old friend. Tell me, when you returned to the palace and displaced me from the throne, I could have sworn you had a broken arm. Was it your little sorceress sister who healed it for you?”
“Perhaps I have a few tricks of my own that you don’t know about,” Magnus bluffed.
“I hope so. I sincerely do.” Kurtis glanced at two Kraeshian guards who had been behind him in the shadows. “Break both of his arms, if you would. And, I think, his right leg.”
T
he guards moved forward without hesitation.
“Kurtis,” Magnus said, his eyes glancing between the kingsliege and the approaching guards. “You think you’ll kill me here today and no one will know about it?”
“Today? You think I’ll kill you today? No. Your death should take quite enough time for you to suffer very nicely.” He nodded. “See you soon.”
Magnus swore to himself that he wouldn’t beg. He wouldn’t plead.
But Kurtis had been right about the screaming.
• • •
When Magnus opened his eyes, he could see a sliver of the moon above him in the dark sky. Consciousness meant he was alive, but it also brought with it ceaseless pain from the injuries inflicted upon him by Kurtis’s sadistic orders.
Where was he? Outside, yes. He was outside if he could see the moon. And he was still in Paelsia, since the chill in the air matched neither the bracing cold of Limeros nor the warmth of Auranos.
He realized that he lay in a box made of wood. “What is this?” he managed.
“You’re awake,” Kurtis said, and his loathsome face appeared above Magnus. “You do sleep very soundly. Like the dead, I might say.”
“I . . . I can’t move.”
“I would imagine not. You’re in terrible shape, my friend. Strong, though. I’ve watched that kind of torture as it killed men and women alike. Well done.”
“You are a lord and a kingsliege, Kurtis. A born Limerian. You’re also a pathetic, weasely little shit, but you have to see that what you’re doing is wrong. There’s still time to stop this.”
“All these compliments, Magnus, they’re going to my head. I never liked you, but I tolerated you because of your father’s power. Now that is gone, along with my hand. All for following orders.” Kurtis’s eyes bugged as his face reddened. “Tell me, is the rumor true that you have a fear of small, enclosed spaces?”
“No, that’s not true.”
“I imagine it will be true soon enough.” Kurtis smirked. “I’ll cherish this moment for the rest of my life, my old friend. Farewell to you.”
Magnus tried to sit up, but pain flashed through him, blinding him like lightening.
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