“All this talk has given me quite a headache,” Stephania said as they approached. “Might I beg a moment or two of solitude?”
They agreed, of course. No one there was important enough to disagree with anything Stephania suggested, and they knew it. The ones who didn’t had been quietly weeded from her social circle a long time ago, or taught appropriate lessons. They probably didn’t all believe her about the headache, given the wine, but even those probably only thought that she was saying goodbye to an admirer now that she was to be married. After all, it was what they would do.
It meant that Stephania was able to step into the gardens alone. She had to admit that the palace gardens were beautiful. There was something about the way the blooms hid their thorns that she found particularly appealing.
Her favorites were the long-stemmed white roses, so delicate looking and carefully cultivated that they seemed almost fragile in comparison to other plants, yet more than capable of twisting around them and strangling them if they took up too much space. Stephania reached out to pluck one, ignoring the thorns and lifting it so that she could drink in the heady scent of it.
The man she sought stood at the far end of the garden. He was in his thirties, with slender features and a pointed beard that only added to the effect. His clothes were of high quality, but less grand than those of the best nobles. If Stephania hadn’t known what he was, he might have put her in mind of one of those minor nobles who dabbled in poetry or song, using them as an excuse to tour the great houses and court a wealthier wife, engaging in assignations wherever they could in the meantime.
Probably even her maid believed it was something like that. Stephania hoped so. It would be unfortunate to have to make the girl disappear.
“Xanthos,” Stephania said, and stepped forward.
“My lady,” he said as she came closer. He had a trace of an accent, but Stephania had never quite been able to work out where it was from. Possibly it was feigned, like so much else about him. “Your radiance outshines the sun itself today. You have another task for me?”
Stephania smiled.
“What happened with Thanos?” she asked. “Why did you fail?”
Xanthos swallowed, seeming suddenly nervous.
“I cannot be held responsible for the Typhoon’s failures,” Xanthos said. “I told you that things would be uncertain within a battle.”
He grinned.
“Besides,” he added, “it seems to have worked out for the best.”
She had to admit he had a point. Things had worked out for the best, after all. Thanos was not dead, but now he was hers. And perhaps, after all, that was just as good.
“Perhaps you’re right,” she said.
She saw him relax and she uncorked the wine, pouring out two glasses. The wine shone clean and pure in the sunlight of the garden.
She lifted her glass. “To success.”
“To us,” Xanthos countered, and drank his with such speed that it was obvious he wanted to get through this part of it as quickly as possible.
Stephania sighed, and poured hers out into the nearest bush.
“What are you doing that for?” Xanthos asked, and then shocked realization crossed his face. “No, you didn’t, you—”
He gagged, clutching his throat and taking a step toward Stephania. His hand fastened on her dress, clutching weakly. Stephania pulled it away. She watched as foam rose at the corners of his mouth, and he fell to his knees.
“I can’t afford loose ends, Xanthos,” Stephania said. “As far as the world knows, I love Thanos. I have always loved Thanos. I’m sure you understand.”
She watched him fall, and stood there, watching, laughing, until finally his body stopped twitching.
CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN
Ceres stood above one of the island’s many bays, feeling the wind ruffle her hair as she stood atop the cliff overlooking it. It felt like there might be a storm coming, but for the moment at least the day was perfect.
She could feel the power thrumming within her, in time to the wind and the rhythms of the island. It seemed to push up against the limits of her skin, filling her in a constant roil of energy that seemed to want to crackle out from her with every touch.
She’d felt the power come to her before, she knew what it felt like, but it had always drifted away again in the past, leaving her feeling ordinary again, human again. Now, it sat there even though there was no danger, and Ceres found herself having to adjust with every movement, accustoming herself to the new strength of her body.
She felt like a different person as she stood there on the cliff edge. Whatever had happened to her after walking through the wall of water, after taking the sacred drink, had changed something within her. It had burnt away whatever it was within her that had been blocking this energy from emerging, had left her moving through the world in a new way. Even the way she responded to it was different
She could feel the wind now breathing against her skin, and the whole island was there behind it if she wanted it. She could understand the islanders’ connection to their home now, and the way they tried to fit in with what was around them.
But it wasn’t her home, and there were things in the world that were worth trying to change. She couldn’t sit back and let the Empire do what it wanted to its people, or let those who ran it get away with sending Thanos to his death. She wanted to see her father and her brother again, too.
Below, Ceres could see the forest folk preparing the vessel that was going to carry her to the Isle Beyond the Mist. They were coming together to craft it, and Ceres could see Eike there among them, joining in where she could. Ceres knew without being told that she wouldn’t be taking the girl with her on her voyage. While Ceres had been trying to find a way to control her powers, Eike had found a home to replace the one she’d lost. Ceres couldn’t take her away from that.
The way the forest folk crafted her boat kept Ceres watching. Where boat builders back in the Empire would have worked with saws and axes, rivets and tar, the people of the island seemed to be growing a vessel from the living wood of the island. They coaxed and worked, touched the wood and seemed impossibly to stretch it, bringing it together the way a weaver might have spun strands of wool.
They created the boat as Ceres watched, making it rise from the water with smooth, rounded sides and rigging that seemed to be made from creepers. Ceres heard Eoin approaching before she saw him, and the fact that she could hear him when he moved so quietly just showed how in tune with the island she was right then.
He stepped up next to her, and Ceres couldn’t help watching him. He stood there with her at the edge, looking as if he could have been rooted in the edge of the cliff.
“It will not be long before your boat is ready,” Eoin said. “Our curse has a lot of downsides, but we can work with wood.”
“It’s incredible,” Ceres said. “If you wanted to, you could craft a fleet that could rule the world.”
“And why would we want to do that?” Eoin asked. “We’re not the Empire, Ceres, to want to rule over others. And we only have so much time in this world, thanks to our curse.”
That was a sobering thought. Looking at Eoin there, so strong and so perfect, it was easy to forget that eventually the jungle would claim him as it had claimed so many of the others. Of course he wouldn't want an empire. He had his music, and his people, and that was enough.
“Will you miss me when I’m gone?” Ceres asked.
“Why would I miss you?” Eoin asked with a smile that broke into a laugh at the change of Ceres’s expression. “I am with you in spirit.”
Ceres’s heart rose with those words. She’d thought, in their time on the island, that there had been something there between them. Perhaps if she managed to come back, she could find out.
“I wish that I could journey with you,” Eoin said. “But this is a journey for you alone.”
Ceres felt a thread of worry at those words. “I don’t know the way.”
“Your
power will set you on the right course,” Eoin promised. “You have seen it, after all.”
Ceres had, but she’d seen a lot of other things too. She’d seen the violence to follow. And she had seen countless masses chanting her name. Had seen herself as queen.
Queen.
First she had been a slave.
Then a warrior.
And then, one day, somehow, queen.
It did not seem possible.
“Are you ready?” Eoin finally asked, breaking the silence.
Despite all the time she’d spent on the island, it felt to Ceres as though things were moving quickly. She’d expected to have more time. The world seemed to be moving at its own pace, and it wasn’t one Ceres was sure she could keep up with.
Even so, Ceres took the first steps down toward the beach. She had a journey to make, and she did have to make it. Despite all the power, despite the war, despite everything, only one thing mattered now.
She was going to discover who she really was.
She was going to meet her mother.
COMING SOON!
Book #3 in Of Crowns and Glory
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Books by Morgan Rice
THE WAY OF STEEL
ONLY THE WORTHY (Book #1)
OF CROWNS AND GLORY
SLAVE, WARRIOR, QUEEN (Book #1)
ROGUE, PRISONER, PRINCESS (Book #2)
KINGS AND SORCERERS
RISE OF THE DRAGONS (Book #1)
RISE OF THE VALIANT (Book #2)
THE WEIGHT OF HONOR (Book #3)
A FORGE OF VALOR (Book #4)
A REALM OF SHADOWS (Book #5)
NIGHT OF THE BOLD (Book #6)
THE SORCERER’S RING
A QUEST OF HEROES (Book #1)
A MARCH OF KINGS (Book #2)
A FATE OF DRAGONS (Book #3)
A CRY OF HONOR (Book #4)
A VOW OF GLORY (Book #5)
A CHARGE OF VALOR (Book #6)
A RITE OF SWORDS (Book #7)
A GRANT OF ARMS (Book #8)
A SKY OF SPELLS (Book #9)
A SEA OF SHIELDS (Book #10)
A REIGN OF STEEL (Book #11)
A LAND OF FIRE (Book #12)
A RULE OF QUEENS (Book #13)
AN OATH OF BROTHERS (Book #14)
A DREAM OF MORTALS (Book #15)
A JOUST OF KNIGHTS (Book #16)
THE GIFT OF BATTLE (Book #17)
THE SURVIVAL TRILOGY
ARENA ONE: SLAVERSUNNERS (Book #1)
ARENA TWO (Book #2)
ARENA THREE (Book #3)
VAMPIRE, FALLEN
BEFORE DAWN (Book #1)
THE VAMPIRE JOURNALS
TURNED (Book #1)
LOVED (Book #2)
BETRAYED (Book #3)
DESTINED (Book #4)
DESIRED (Book #5)
BETROTHED (Book #6)
VOWED (Book #7)
FOUND (Book #8)
RESURRECTED (Book #9)
CRAVED (Book #10)
FATED (Book #11)
OBSESSED (Book #12)
About Morgan Rice
Morgan Rice is the #1 bestselling and USA Today bestselling author of the epic fantasy series THE SORCERER’S RING, comprising seventeen books; of the #1 bestselling series THE VAMPIRE JOURNALS, comprising twelve books; of the #1 bestselling series THE SURVIVAL TRILOGY, a post-apocalyptic thriller comprising two books (and counting); of the epic fantasy series KINGS AND SORCERERS, comprising six books; and of the new epic fantasy series OF CROWNS AND GLORY. Morgan’s books are available in audio and print editions, and translations are available in over 25 languages.
TURNED (Book #1 in the Vampire Journals), ARENA 1 (Book #1 of the Survival Trilogy), A QUEST OF HEROES (Book #1 in the Sorcerer’s Ring) and RISE OF THE DRAGONS (Kings and Sorcerers—Book #1) are each available as a free download on Amazon!
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Morgan Rice, Rogue, Prisoner, Princess
(Series: Of Crowns and Glory # 2)
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