Immortal Reign

  He sounded so real—far more real than any fantasy.

  Cleo turned around slowly to see the tall, broad-shouldered figment of her imagination standing no more than three paces away from her. Scowling.

  “I know I should be concerned about your situation.” Magnus gestured toward her. “My wife, the water goddess. And even before I’d learned what had happened, I’d been beside myself in my haste to get back to you, thinking you might be Kurtis’s prisoner by now.”

  She gaped at him. “Magnus?”

  “And I am deeply, painfully concerned—don’t think I’m not. But to follow you here from the palace only to see you with Jonas Agallon,” he growled. “It’s not all right with me.”

  She could barely form thoughts, let alone words. “Nothing happened.”

  “It didn’t look like nothing.”

  Tears splashed to her cheeks. “You’re alive.”

  The remainder of the fury faded from his brown eyes. “I am.”

  “And you’re here right in front of me.”

  “Yes.” His gaze fell to her left hand and the marks from her ongoing internal battle with the water Kindred. “Oh, Cleo . . .”

  With a ragged sob, she threw herself into his arms. He lifted her off the ground to embrace her tightly against his chest.

  “I thought you were dead,” Cleo sobbed. “Lucia—she saw it. She did a location spell and sensed you were dead, and I . . .” She rested her head against his shoulder. “Oh, Magnus, I love you. And I’ve missed you so much I thought I might die from it. But you’re here.”

  “I love you too,” he whispered. “I love you so much.”

  “I know.”

  “Good.”

  Then he crushed his mouth against hers, kissing her hard, stealing her breath and giving her life at the same time.

  “I knew you’d be fine, no matter what,” he said to her when their lips parted. “You’re the bravest and strongest girl I’ve ever known in my life.”

  Cleo ran her hands over his face, his jaw, his throat, wanting to prove to herself that this was real and not just a dream. “I’m sorry, Magnus.”

  He finally placed her back down on the sandy ground, holding her gaze intensely. “For what?”

  “It seems I’m apologizing a lot today, but I have to. I’m sorry that I lied to you, that I hurt you. I’m sorry I blamed you for everything horrible that happened. I’m sorry that I didn’t see how much I loved you from the very beginning.” She wiped at her tear-filled eyes. “Well . . . not the very beginning.”

  “No,” he allowed with a wince. “Certainly not.”

  “The past is forgotten.” She placed her hands against his chest, reveling in the feel of him—solid and alive. And here. “Know only this: I love you with all my heart, all my soul.” Her voice broke on the raw truth in her words. “That losing you destroyed me, and I never, never, ever want to feel that way again.”

  Magnus stared down at her now, as if shocked by the intensity of her words. “Cleo . . .”

  Cleo pulled his face down so his lips could meet hers again. And it was as if the thousand-pound weight that had been attached to her ankle for more than a week, pulling her further into the depths of the ocean, drowning her slowly and painfully, had finally released.

  His kiss was everything. So deep and true and perfect.

  Magnus picked her up again, his strong arms easily holding her weight as he moved away from the edge of the water.

  “I’ve missed you so much,” he breathed against her lips as he pressed her up against the side of the cliff so she could feel every line, every edge of his body against hers. “I swear I will make it up to you, all the horrible things I’ve said and done. My beautiful Cleiona . . . say it again, what you said just now.”

  She almost smiled. “I think you heard me.”

  “Don’t tease,” he growled, his gaze intense. “Say it again.”

  “I love you, Magnus. Truly and madly. Forever and ever,” she whispered, hungry for his kiss again. Starving for it. “And I need you . . . Now. Here.”

  She’d already begun to loosen the ties of his shirt, desperate to feel his bare skin against hers with no barrier between them.

  His mouth was on hers again, desperate and hungry. Magnus groaned deep in his throat as Cleo ran her fingernails up his chest, pulling his shirt over his shoulders. He slid his hands beneath the edge of her embroidered skirt before he froze, his lips parting from hers.

  A deep frown creased his brow. “Damn it.”

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “We can’t do this,” he whispered.

  A breath caught in her chest. “Why not?”

  “The curse.”

  For a moment, Cleo had no idea what he meant. But then she remembered, and a small smile parted her lips. “There is no curse.”

  “What?”

  “Your grandmother made that story up to deceive your father, to explain why my mother died in childbirth. But it’s not true. There’s no witch’s curse on me. It was all a lie.”

  Magnus didn’t move. He studied her for several moments as he held her, pressed up against the cliff’s side, their faces at the same level—eye to eye.

  “No curse,” he whispered, and his lips curved into a smile.

  “None at all.”

  “And the Kindred magic within you . . .”

  “It’s a big problem, but not at this exact moment.”

  “So we can deal with it later.”

  She nodded. “Yes, later.”

  “Are you certain?”

  “Completely certain.”

  “Good.”

  This time when Magnus kissed her, there was no restraint. No stopping or waiting, no doubt or fear. There was only this exquisite moment that Cleo wanted to last forever, finally reunited with her dark prince.

  CHAPTER 15

  MAGNUS

  AURANOS

  Magnus knew they should have returned to the palace hours ago.

  But they hadn’t.

  Instead, they watched the sun sink into the horizon in the west, turning the sky shades of purple, pink, and orange.

  “I like it here,” he said, his fingers threaded into Cleo’s long golden hair. “It’s officially my favorite place in all of Auranos. And this rock at my back . . . my favorite rock in all of Mytica.”

  Cleo nodded, nestling closer to his side. “It’s a good rock.”

  He took her left hand in his, tracing the blue lines that spread from the water magic symbol on her palm. “I don’t like this.”

  “Neither do I.”

  “But you said you’re in no distress.”

  “I said it. I meant it. But . . .”

  “But what?”

  “But . . .” she began. “It is a problem.”

  “An understatement, certainly.”

  “I want to figure out how to use this water magic, but I can’t. It doesn’t work that way. At least, not that I’ve discovered yet.”

  Magnus remembered stumbling through the forest that dark night, coming upon the campfire of the fire Kindred.

  “I saw Kyan,” he said.

  Cleo gasped and pulled away so that she could look into his eyes. “When?”

  “After . . . the grave.” He’d already told her some of what he’d gone through, not wanting to dwell on the darker moments. She knew his father had given him the bloodstone and that if he hadn’t, Magnus would be only a memory now. “He let me believe he was still Nic for a while, like he was toying with me. He wanted me to tell you that when he arrives, you need to join him. I would have torn him apart right then, but he looked so much like Nic . . .”

  “He is Nic,” Cleo said, her voice pained. “For a moment, right after it happened, I nearly stabbed him in the heart—even knowing it would kill Nic. I wasn’t
thinking straight. I’m so grateful that Ashur stopped me.”

  That sounded like something the Kraeshian prince would do. “Of course he did.”

  “I’ll never go with Kyan,” she said, shaking her head. “Not for any reason.”

  Magnus’s chest tightened at the thought of losing her. “He was going to brand me, somehow, making me into his slave with magic so I’d do as he said. He reached for me and . . . stopped. Something stopped him, and it gave me the chance to escape.”

  “What was it?” she asked, breathless.

  He tried to remember that dark night full of pain and confusion. “I don’t know. I thought it might have been Ashur, that he’d found some magic to fight against the Kindred, but it wasn’t him. Still, something helped me get away.”

  “Could it have been Nic himself? Fighting against Kyan somehow?”

  “Possibly,” he allowed. But the more he thought about it, the more he wondered if it could have something to do with the bloodstone. Lucia had been repelled by its magic.

  Perhaps Kyan felt the same.

  Still, Cleo, with the water Kindred within her, seemed fine being close to him with this kind of magic—dark magic, as Lucia called it—on his finger.

  Cleo shook her head. “To think, our troubles used to consist of a battle for the throne. It seems so inconsequential now.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t say entirely inconsequential,” he said. “It will be nice when every trace of Amara Cortas leaves this kingdom.”

  “I forgot all about her for a moment.”

  “So did I.” He kissed her forehead, threading his fingers through her sun-warmed, silky hair. “We will find a way to save Nic, I promise we will. You and Nic and Olivia and even Taran.” He grimaced. “If we must.”

  Cleo laughed nervously, burying her face against Magnus’s chest. “Taran is trying to be strong, but I know he’s terrified about losing control of his life like this.”

  “I have no doubt that he is.” Magnus knew he’d feel exactly the same.

  He watched the sun sink further over the water. There was very little daylight left. They had to face reality again, far too soon.

  “Best slip your gown on before Agallon strolls back here looking for you and gets far too much of an eyeful of my beautiful wife.” Magnus reached to the side and grabbed his shirt. “Wouldn’t want to break his heart any further by seeing you like this with me. Although . . . come to think of it, I’d be all right with that. Final nail in the coffin, if you’ll excuse the expression.”

  “Jonas is a good person,” Cleo said firmly as she dressed.

  He watched her with great appreciation, every move, every gesture. “Stellar. Of course he is.”

  “He cares a great deal about Lucia.”

  Magnus made a sour face. “Don’t even put that potential pairing into my mind. I have enough foul dreams to deal with as it is.”

  Magnus stood up and took Cleo’s face between his hands so he could kiss her again. He knew he would never tire of the taste of her lips—a near magical mix of strawberries, salt water, and the individual and intoxicating taste of Cleiona Bellos herself.

  Far more delicious than even the finest and sweetest vintage of Paelsian wine.

  She reached up to stroke the dark hair off his forehead, then traced her fingertips slowly along his scar to his lips. “Marry me, Magnus.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “We’re already married.”

  “I know.”

  “You can’t possibly forget that day in the temple, can you? The earthquake? The screaming and blood and death? The vows forced upon you under threat of torture and pain?”

  Cleo’s expression turned haunted, and he regretted reminding her of that horrible day.

  “That was no proper wedding,” she said, shaking her head.

  “I agree.” A smile touched his lips. “Actually, that was one of my fantasies while in that hateful coffin: marrying you under the blue sky of Auranos in a field of beautiful flowers.”

  She let out a small laugh at that. “A field of beautiful flowers? Clearly you must have been hallucinating.”

  “Clearly.” Magnus pulled her to him, gentler now, as if afraid she might break. “We will live through this, my princess. All of this. And then, yes, I will marry you properly.”

  “Promise?” she asked, a tremor in her voice.

  “I promise,” he replied firmly. “And until then, I have faith in my sister that she will end Kyan and find a solution to this hateful magic inside of you.”

  Magnus and Cleo returned to the palace slightly disheveled, but determined to find a solution to the long list of problems that plagued them.

  After Magnus had heard the twentieth “I thought you were dead” comment, he chose to retire to his chambers with his beautiful wife.

  And there they discussed every moment that had passed for each of them since they last saw each other.

  Cleo slid her fingers over the golden ring on Magnus’s left hand. “I hate your father. I always will.” she said, just before she fell asleep in his arms. “But I will be eternally grateful to him for this.”

  Yes. The bloodstone definitely complicated his already complicated feelings for the man who had made his life far more painful than it should have been.

  Perhaps tomorrow, the king’s speech would mark the beginning of a new chapter in their lives as father and son.

  Magnus knew he, himself, had changed so much over the last year. Change could happen—if one wanted it to.

  Perhaps there was room for hope.

  The next morning, they lingered far too long in their sleeping chambers, taking breakfast there instead of joining King Gaius and Lucia.

  And Lyssa.

  Magnus still could not believe his sister had an infant daughter, but he knew he could accept it. He already loved Lyssa and knew he would do anything to protect his newborn niece.

  As Magnus lay in bed, he propped himself up on his elbow to watch as Cleo pulled on her slip and fiddled with the laces, expecting at any moment for her to ask him for assistance.

  But then she froze in place.

  Her eyes locked on the wall in front of her, and her mouth twisted in pain.

  Magnus jumped up and grasped hold of her shoulders.

  “What’s happening?” he demanded.

  “D-drowning,” she managed. “I—I feel like I’m . . . drowning.”

  His gaze shot to her right hand, to the vine of blue lines spreading from the water magic symbol. Before his very eyes, the lines traveled up higher along her skin, encircling her upper arm.

  “No,” he said, panic clawing at his chest. “You’re not drowning. You’re here with me, and everything is fine. Don’t let this overwhelm you.”

  “I—I’m trying.”

  “And you, water Kindred”—he stared fiercely into her blue-green eyes—“if you can hear me, you need to release your hold on Cleo, if that’s what this is. I will destroy you. I will destroy all of you. I swear it.”

  Cleo collapsed in his arms, gasping for breath like she’d just come up from the depths of the ocean.

  “It’s passed,” she managed a moment later. “I’m fine.”

  “You’re not fine. This is not fine,” he snarled back at her, the pain of being unable to save her from this nearly unbearable. “This is as far from fine as anything that has ever been!”

  She righted herself, pushing away from him and quickly donning the dark blue gown she’d chosen to wear today. “We have to go . . . your father’s speech. He needs you there.”

  “I’ll get Nerissa to attend to you. You don’t have to be on the balcony with us.”

  “I want to be there.” She met his gaze, and he could see the strength in her eyes, along with the frustration. “By your side. So everyone can see us together.”

  “But—”

>   “I insist, Magnus. Please.”

  He nodded, grudgingly in agreement, and placed a hand on her back, guiding her out of the room to join his father and Lucia in the throne room.

  “So nice of you to join us,” the king said thinly.

  “We were . . . otherwise occupied,” Magnus replied.

  “Yes, I’m sure you were.” His attention moved to Cleo. “You look well.”

  Cleo met his gaze directly. “I am well.”

  “Good.”

  “I wish you the greatest luck with your speech,” she said, a steady smile on her face. “I know how much the Auranian people love a good speech from their beloved king. Your recent . . . decisions with Amara will be all but forgotten, I’m sure.”

  Magnus shared an amused look with Lucia, one that reminded him so much of those they’d shared over the years whenever they witnessed the king say something unkind to a guest. But he always managed to say it in a way that almost sounded like a compliment.

  Almost.

  “Indeed,” the king replied.

  It seemed the king and Cleo had far more in common than Magnus ever would have thought.

  From the throne room, accompanied by guards, the four took a winding staircase, located behind the dais, to the third floor and the large balcony overlooking the palace square.

  The last time Magnus and Cleo had been present for a speech by the king on this very balcony, they had been betrothed, much to their mutual surprise and abject horror.

  Lucia’s beautiful face held pain, her blue eyes as serious as Magnus had ever seen them.

  “Is there something wrong?” Magnus asked his sister as they stepped onto the balcony to the cheers of the thousands gathered below.

  “What isn’t wrong?” she replied quietly. “Shall I give you a list with Kyan at the very top of it?”

  “Not necessary.”

  “Silence, both of you,” the king said under his breath before he grasped hold of the marble railing and turned to the Auranians who milled below in the palace square, gazing up at the king with both interest and skepticism on their faces.

  Then Gaius began to speak in a strong and powerful voice that traveled easily across the distance.

  “In Limeros, our credo is: Strength, Faith, and Wisdom,” the king began. “Three values that we believe can see us through any adversity. But today I want to talk about truth. I’ve come to believe it is the most valuable treasure in the world.”