Felix smirked. “Part of my charm is that I fit in wherever I am. I’m a chameleon.”
There was no part of Felix Gaebras, eye patch and glowering, intimidating presence combined, that fit in wherever he was. But Jonas chose not to argue with him.
“You are indeed a chameleon,” he said instead, nodding.
“Perhaps that’s why Enzo’s been in such a bad mood the last couple of days,” Felix said as they paused in front of a shop with impressively clear windows that showed a selection of decorated cakes and pastries. “Insufferable, really.”
Jonas already knew far too much about Enzo’s moods. “He proposed marriage to Nerissa.”
“What?” Felix regarded him with shock. “And what did Nerissa say to that?”
“She said no.”
Felix nodded, his expression turning thoughtful. “Clearly, that’s because she’s fallen madly in love with me.”
“She hasn’t.”
“Give her time.”
“You believe what you want to believe.”
“I will.”
Jonas glanced over his shoulder in the direction of the palace, which lay in the direct center of the city. He could see its highest golden tower above the shops surrounding them. “I wonder how long the king is going to talk?”
“Hours, likely. He enjoys the sound of his voice far more than anyone else does.” Felix cast a look at the maze of storefronts and buildings around them. “We’re never going to find Ashur if he doesn’t want to be found. Remember when we were in Basilia, and—poof—he’d just be gone? Just wandered off and didn’t even tell anyone? Kraeshians are so sneaky.”
“Ashur’s just doing what he needs to do.”
“So . . . him and Nic, huh?” Felix said, raising a brow above his eye patch. “I knew there was something there, but it didn’t completely click until we were in the pit. And then I’m all: ‘I knew it!’ Because I did know it. You can just tell these things.”
Jonas frowned at him. “What are you talking about?”
“Ashur and . . . Nic.” Felix spread his hands. “They’re—”
The sound of a scream caught their attention. It was followed by more shouts and a commotion coming from the palace area.
Felix gave Jonas a grim look. “Must have been some speech.”
“We need to get back,” Jonas said.
They hurried back to the palace without another word. Jonas’s heart pounded fast and hard as he caught a man’s shoulder going past him.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
“The king!” the man said, his face pale and his eyes round. “The king is dead!”
Jonas stared after him as the man scurried away.
Once they reached the palace, they found it in chaos. Every guard they passed had his sword drawn, ready for battle.
“It can’t be true,” Jonas said as the pair rushed through the corridors. “I don’t believe it.”
They found Nerissa walking swiftly down the hallway that led to their bedchambers.
“Nerissa!” Jonas called out to her. “What’s going on? The commotion in the city—some say King Gaius is dead.”
“He is,” she confirmed, her voice small. “It happened during his speech . . . an archer in the audience. He was captured before he could escape.”
It still seemed far too surreal for Jonas to accept. “You saw it?”
She nodded. “I saw everything. It was horrible. Lucia and Magnus and Cleo were with him on the balcony.”
“Is Lucia . . . ?” he began. “Is Cleo . . . ?”
“They’re fine—or as fine as can be expected, given the circumstances. I can only assume the king’s death was instant, or else Princess Lucia should have been able to heal him with her magic.”
“A rebel,” Jonas said, shaking his head. “Some rebel finally took the king out.”
“Yes.” Nerissa’s expression didn’t hold any grief, but her eyes were filled with worry. “I assume the assassin will be publicly executed after he’s questioned.”
Felix crossed his thick arms over his broad chest. “Is it wrong that I’m slightly envious that I wasn’t the one to do it?”
Nerissa glared at him. “Seriously, Felix?”
“He left me behind in Kraeshia to take the blame for the emperor’s murder—not exactly something I can forgive and forget. I’m glad he’s dead!”
“I would strongly advise you to keep that opinion to yourself,” Nerissa said. “Especially around Prince Magnus and Princess Lucia.”
Jonas barely registered their conversation. He was deep in thought, remembering the time when he’d shoved a dagger into the king’s heart, certain that he’d finally done what no one else had been able to do. But it was an injury the king survived because of some spell cast upon him by his witch mother.
“I can’t believe he’s dead,” Jonas said, shaking his head. “The King of Blood is finally dead.”
Jonas had to agree with Felix. This assassination had brought with it more good than bad. Perhaps the rebel had been working with Tarus Vasco.
Perhaps it had been Tarus himself.
He was about to ask Nerissa more about the archer, but his attention moved to someone who’d appeared at the end of the hallway.
Princess Lucia swiftly moved toward them.
Despite his hatred for the king, Lucia was his daughter—and she’d witnessed his death. Certainly, she mourned him and was in pain.
Jonas swore he would not make that pain worse than it already was.
“Princess,” he said softly. “I heard what happened.”
Her sky-blue eyes met his, her brows drawing together. “I told her this was all her fault . . . and she cried so hard, harder than I’ve ever heard her cry before. It’s my fault this happened. Perhaps I should have said yes right away and he wouldn’t have done this. I’m such a fool. Such a stupid, stupid fool.”
“Lucia,” Jonas frowned. “What are you talking about?”
Then his gaze fell with horror on the dagger in her grip. Her other hand dripped blood on the marble floor.
“What did you do?” he demanded. “Did you cut yourself?”
Lucia looked down at the injury: a deep slice over the palm of her right hand. “I’d heal it, but I can’t.”
“Princess, why did you do this to yourself?” Nerissa asked as she pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and quickly wrapped it around the princess’s hand.
Lucia looked blankly down at the bandage. “That night, so long ago, I summoned him with the symbol for fire magic drawn on the snowy ground in my own blood. Alexius told me how to do it before he died. But nothing happened this time. I—I don’t know how to find him and get her back.”
“Who are you talking about?” Felix’s voice was much harsher than either Jonas’s or Nerissa’s when addressing the princess. “You’re not saying you tried to summon Kyan here, are you?”
Lucia’s gaze moved to Felix’s single eye. “He took Lyssa.”
“What?” Jonas gasped. “No, that’s impossible.”
“The nursemaid is in ashes. It happened when I was with Magnus and my father’s assassin in the dungeon. When I came back to my chambers . . . Lyssa was gone!” Her breath hitched sharply, and she let out a sob. “I need to go.”
She tried to move past them, but Jonas grabbed hold of her wrist to stop her.
“Where are you going?” he demanded.
“I need to find Timotheus. I need his answers. And I need his help.” Her expression hardened then to one of cold steel. “And if he refuses, I swear on Valoria’s heart that I will kill him. Now let go of me.”
“No,” he said. “You’re not making any damn sense. I know your father just died, and that was a true horror for you to witness. Perhaps you’re imagining things. What you need is rest.”
“Wha
t I need”—her tone turned to jagged ice—“is for you to let go of me.”
She wrenched her arm away, and Jonas was suddenly airborne, tossed halfway down the hall. When he hit the hard marble floor, it knocked the breath from his lungs.
“Lucia, stop!”
She didn’t stop. He saw only the swish of her dark gray skirt as she turned a corner up ahead and disappeared from view.
Felix’s hand appeared before his face. He took it and let his friend help him back up to his feet.
“Who in the hell is Timotheus?” Felix asked.
Only an immortal who’d seen a future that included the same golden dagger Jonas now possessed embedded in Lucia’s chest.
Before he could answer Felix’s question aloud, someone else headed down the hallway toward their trio.
“I need to speak with you, Agallon,” Magnus growled.
The Damora siblings were equally forthright and equally unbearable. “About Lucia?” he asked.
“No.”
Jonas itched to follow the princess, to try to stop her from whatever carnage she was bound to cause in her grief and confusion.
But the best course of action was to sit down and calmly formulate a plan.
He had changed a lot since his days as a rebel leader, and he wasn’t sure if such hesitation was an asset or a liability.
“Then what is it?” Jonas asked impatiently.
“I need you to go to Kraeshia.”
His gaze shot to the prince. “Why?”
“Because Amara Cortas needs to die.”
“What?”
Magnus absently stroked his scarred right cheek. “She is responsible for my father’s murder. I won’t allow her to get away with it without penalty. She is a threat to everything and everyone.”
Jonas forced himself to take a breath. Both Lucia and Magnus were in mourning, causing them to act irrationally and recklessly.
“Your vengeance is understandable,” Jonas said, keeping his voice steady. “But that’s an impossible request. Even if I agreed, I couldn’t get close to her without discovery, let alone manage to escape after an assassination attempt . . .” He shook his head. “It’s impossible.”
“I’ll go,” Felix said simply.
Jonas shot him a look of surprise. “Bad idea, Felix.”
“Disagree,” he replied. “It’s a great idea.”
“Your highness,” Nerissa said. “With utmost respect, I must ask: Is this the right move at this time? I thought your position was that our focus needed to remain on the Kindred and on helping Cleo and Taran.”
Magnus turned a dark look on the girl. “That is still my focus. But this is also the right move, one that should have been taken months ago. Amara is responsible for countless atrocities committed against innocents.”
“So was your father,” Nerissa said, not flinching when Magnus’s glare intensified. “Apologies, but it’s the truth.”
“I’ll leave immediately,” Felix said. “Happy to serve. I’ve been waiting for this chance.”
“Chance to do what?” Jonas said, glaring at his friend. “Get yourself killed?”
“It’s a chance I’m willing to take.” Felix shrugged and spread his hands. “This is what I do, and I’m damn good at it, your highness. Jonas has perhaps a few too many pesky morals in place when it comes to the thought of killing a woman. But me? Right woman, right time, right blade—or, hell, my bare hands—and she won’t be anyone’s problem anymore.”
“Good,” Magnus said with a sharp nod. “Leave today, and take whomever you need as backup.”
“I’ll need no one but myself.”
“I’ll go with you,” Nerissa said.
Felix rolled his eyes. “What, to try to stop me? To remind me that everyone deserves a shiny chance at redemption? Save your breath.”
“No. I’ll go to make sure you don’t get yourself unnecessarily slaughtered. I came to know Amara very well during my short time in her service. And I believe she trusts me, despite my choice to side with Princess Cleo.”
Felix eyed her with doubt. “You won’t try to stop me.”
“No. I’ll help you.”
“Good,” Magnus said. “You will go with Felix. And kindly let Amara know before she draws her last breath that this was on my orders.”
Felix bowed his head. “It will be my pleasure, your highness.”
Magnus turned as if to leave, but Jonas knew he couldn’t let him.
“Lucia’s gone,” he said.
Magnus’s shoulders tensed. He turn around slowly and glared at Jonas—a look so menacing that Jonas nearly winced from it.
“What?” he snapped.
“She believes Kyan was here just now, that he kidnapped Lyssa. She’s gone after him.”
Magnus swore under his breath. “Is it true? Was Kyan here and no alarms were raised?”
“I don’t know for sure. But Lucia most definitely seemed to think so.”
“I can’t leave. Not with Cleo here . . . not with everything that’s happened today.” A thread of panic had entered Magnus’s deep voice. Then he swore again before he looked at Jonas. “You.”
Jonas frowned. “Me?”
“Go after my sister. Bring her back. You’re certainly not my first choice, but you did it once, and you can damn well do it again. This is a command.”
Jonas glared at him. “A command, is it?”
The fierceness in Magnus’s dark eyes fell away, replaced by worry. “Fine. I won’t command you. I’ll ask you . . . please. I trust you to do this more than anyone else. Please find my sister and bring her back. If she’s right, if this was Kyan’s doing, together we will search for my niece.”
Jonas couldn’t speak. He nodded once.
He would do as Magnus asked him.
But he wouldn’t drag Lucia back here kicking and screaming. He didn’t think he could even if he wanted to. Instead, he would follow her. And he would help her.
And, he thought with pained determination, if Timotheus is right and she ends up using her magic to help Kyan, dooming the rest of the world and everyone in it . . .
He slid his hand over the golden dagger at his hip.
Then I will kill her.
CHAPTER 18
AMARA
KRAESHIA
Amara knew that because of her, a monster was free—one that would destroy the world unless it was stopped. And she’d left the mess behind her for others to clean up.
She’d hoped that the farther she sailed from the shores of Mytica, the freer she’d feel, but the invisible chains tying her to what she’d done did not break even as the Jewel of the Empire finally loomed into view before her.
Her beautiful home would also be destroyed if Kyan wasn’t imprisoned again.
She would have to have faith in Lucia. And in Cleo.
For now, that faith would have to be enough.
Costas, the only member of her guard Amara knew she could trust, remained in Mytica to keep a close watch over the royals. She’d commanded him to send a message of any news, no matter how small or insignificant it seemed.
A celebration awaited her as the ship docked, a crowd of cheering Kraeshians holding up signs proclaiming their love and devotion to their new empress.
“Welcome home, Empress Amara!” they called out to her.
As she disembarked, children and mothers looked upon her with hope in their eyes, hope that she wouldn’t be the same as her father—an emperor who had been focused only on power, conquest, and unlimited fortune.
Amara would be different, these women believed.
Better. Kinder. More benevolent and focused on unity and peace in a way male rulers in the past hadn’t been.
Amara smiled at them all, but found that the tight feeling in her chest wouldn’t ease.
All
these people . . . they would all perish at the hands of the Kindred if Lucia failed.
Lucia couldn’t fail.
Amara had confidence in the sorceress’s magic, in her prophecy, in the determination she’d seen in Lucia’s eyes when she’d first entered the compound searching for her brother and father. For a moment, just a moment before the king’s entourage had departed for Auranos, Amara had wanted to ask Lucia if she might heal her broken leg with her earth magic, as a favor.
But she had held her tongue, doubting that the reply would be positive.
“I earned this injury,” she whispered to herself as she leaned against her cane. The pain had eased, but walking was awkward and slow. She shrugged off the assistance of the guards who surrounded her, preferring to hobble along without any help.
She took in the sights of the Jewel on the carriage ride to the Emerald Spear—the royal residence she’d lived in since birth. Sometimes she forgot how beautiful the Jewel was. It hadn’t received its name by accident.
Everywhere she looked, her surroundings literally hummed with life. With lush, green trees bearing flat, waxy leaves, far taller and fuller than anything she’d seen in Mytica. The flowers—mostly shades of purple, which had been the emperor’s favorite color—were each as big as a serving platter.
The air was fresh and fragrant with the smell of the flowers and of the salty sea that surrounded the small island. Amara closed her eyes and tried to focus only on the feel of the humid air on her bare arms, on the intoxicating scents of the Jewel, on the cheers from crowds they passed.
When she opened her eyes again, the palace stretched up into the very clouds like a priceless shard of glittering emerald. It had been her father’s design, built years before she was born. He’d never been happy with it, thought it not high enough, not sharp enough, not impressive enough.
But Amara loved it.
And now it belonged to her and her alone.
And, for a moment, she pushed aside her doubts, her fears, her guilt, and allowed herself to bask in her victory—truly the greatest victory by any woman in history.