Immortal Reign

  “What do you have to say to me privately?” he said when she closed the door. “Do you wish to scold me for my behavior out there? To make me see reason and embrace hope like you do? To make me believe that we still have a chance to make this right again?”

  “No,” she replied simply.

  He frowned. “No?”

  Cleo shook her head. “There’s nothing right about this.”

  Magnus inhaled deeply. “I acted like a bully to Bruno.”

  “Yes, you did.”

  “I think I scared him.”

  She nodded. “You can be very scary.”

  “Yes. And I can also be scared. And I am, right now.” Magnus took her hands in his, his gaze locking with hers. “I want to help you.”

  Tears welled in her eyes. “I know.”

  “What do we do, Cleo?” He hated the weakness that had crept into his voice. “How am I supposed to save you from this?”

  She frowned. “It’s talking to me right now—the water Kindred. It wants me to leave you, to return to Kyan. It says that I’ve made him incredibly angry for leaving when he’d been trying to help me.”

  Magnus took her by her shoulders and stared deep into her blue-green eyes. “Listen to me, demon. You need to get out of my wife now. Do so of your own volition and find another body to steal—I don’t really give a damn who it is. But leave Cleo alone, or I swear I will destroy you!”

  Cleo’s frown deepened. “It finds you amusing.”

  Magnus had never hated anything so much in his entire life, nor had he ever felt so powerless. “I don’t know what to do.”

  She took his hand in hers. “Wait . . . Nic . . . he told me that when you found Kyan in the forest, after you escaped from the grave, you touched him. And that—whatever you did—is what jarred him awake and allowed him to start fighting Kyan for control.” Cleo held up his hand. “It’s because of this ring. It has to be.”

  “Yes,” he whispered, thinking hard. “I know.”

  “Elementia is life magic,” she said. “And whatever this is, wherever it came from, it’s the opposite.”

  He nodded. “So what? I’ll ask Kyan to try this ring on and see what happens?”

  “No,” she said immediately. “He’d kill you before you get within three paces of him.”

  Magnus met her gaze. “It might be worth the risk.”

  “You will not do that,” she said firmly. “We will find another way.”

  “You think it’s that easy?”

  “I know it’s not.” She bit her bottom lip, then moved to the window that looked out at the Viridy street outside the inn, already busy with citizens emerging from their homes for the start of a new day. “Tell me, Magnus, do you ever wish you could go back to before all of this? When life was normal?”

  “No,” he replied.

  She turned a look of surprise on him. “Just no?”

  “Just no.”

  “Why?”

  “Because far too much has changed for me to wish for exactly how it was before.” Magnus allowed himself a moment to think of life before war, before the Kindred, and before Cleo. He hadn’t been happy, even then. He’d been lost, searching for meaning in his life, half-aspiring to be like his father, half-wishing his father were dead. “Besides, I don’t really think the two of us would have gotten along very well before.” He raised a brow at her. “You were an insufferable, vacuous party girl, from what I’ve heard.”

  “True.” She laughed. “And you were a cold, brooding jackass with feelings for your sister.”

  Magnus cringed. “Times change.”

  “Indeed they do.”

  “I remember you, you know,” he said softly. “When we were only children. From the visit when I got this . . .” Magnus brushed his fingers over his scar. “You were a shining light even at . . . what? Four or five years old?” He pictured the small golden-haired princess that had captured his attention and interest, even as a young boy. “I had a fantasy for a time that I would come to live with you and your family instead of my own.”

  Cleo’s eyes widened. “Really?”

  He nodded, the long-repressed memory coming back to him vividly. “In fact, once I ran away from home and got into a great deal of trouble with that goal in mind. My father . . .” He sighed. “My father was not kind. Not even on his kindest day.”

  “Your father loved you. In his own way.” Cleo smiled at him. “And I know for a fact your mother loved you very much.”

  He raised a brow. “What makes you say that?”

  “She told me once that she would kill me if I ever hurt you.”

  He stared at her, then shook his head. “That sounds like my mother.”

  A shadow crossed her expression, and her smile fell away. “I went on to hurt you quite a lot.”

  “And I you, far too many times to count.” Magnus took her hands in his, pulling her closer to him. “We will figure this out, Cleo. I swear that to you.”

  He leaned in to kiss her, needing to feel her lips against his, but was interrupted by a loud bang on the other side of the tavern.

  “So much for our private discussion,” he said with annoyance.

  He crossed the room and opened the door, shocked at who stood on the other side.

  It was Enzo, his face bloody, half the hair on his head burned off.

  The guard fell to his knees, gasping for breath, a rolled-up piece of parchment dropping from his grip.

  Cleo was at his side in an instant, helping him to his feet. Magnus reached down to grab the parchment.

  “Enzo!” Cleo gasped. “What happened to you?”

  “Kyan knows where you are,” Enzo managed. “He can sense you because the water Kindred is inside you. You’re all connected.”

  Heart pounding, Magnus crossed the room to look out the window, searching for any sign of their enemy. “Where is he now?”

  “He’s not here,” Enzo said. “He sent me with this message. For you, princess.”

  Magnus quickly unrolled the parchment, holding it out for Cleo to read along with him.

  I’ve tried to be patient and kind with you, but that didn’t work. Come to me immediately. If you don’t, everyone in your beloved golden city will burn. There’s no other way for this to end. Deny me, and I promise endless suffering for everyone and everything you love.

  At Cleo’s pained gasp, Magnus threw the parchment away from him.

  “He’s bluffing,” Magnus growled.

  “He’s not,” Enzo said, his voice strained. “I saw what he could do. His fire . . . it’s not like normal fire. It’s deeper, more painful than anything I’ve ever felt before. I never thought that could be possible.”

  “You’re not helping,” Magnus snapped.

  “Magnus, I know you want to save me,” Cleo said, her eyes filled with tears. “But there’s no way. I’m so close now to losing control of this. If Taran couldn’t resist, I won’t be able to. And I believe what Kyan says. He will burn the city.”

  “No, you’re not going to him. We’re going to find another answer.”

  “But he’ll destroy the city.”

  “I don’t care about the damn city!”

  “I do,” she said fiercely.

  “Damn it!” Magnus’s anguished gaze met Cleo’s. “Stay here. I need to get Ashur. We need to try summoning Valia again.” He glared at Enzo. “Stay with her.”

  He left the room and rushed down the stairs, searching for Ashur. He found the prince talking with Bruno near the kitchen.

  “What?” Ashur exclaimed when he saw Magnus’s pained expression.

  “Whatever it takes,” Magnus managed to say. “We need that witch’s help. Kyan’s in the City of Gold, holding it hostage until Cleo comes to his side.”

  “No,” Ashur said, his voice pained. “We need time.”
br />   “There’s no time.” He looked down at Ashur’s bandaged hands. “We’ll use my blood. Or we’ll find a dozen turtles to sacrifice to that woman. But we must be quick about it.”

  “The princess should be with us,” Ashur said, nodding grimly.

  “I agree. And Enzo’s here—he delivered the message. He has plenty of blood in him to help. Come with me.”

  With Ashur in tow, Magnus took the stairs to the second floor two at a time and burst into the room where he’d left Cleo.

  All that was in the room was a hastily scrawled note on a torn piece of parchment left on the cot.

  I’m sorry, but I have to do this. I love you.

  Magnus crumpled the note in his fist and threw it onto the floor. Ashur picked it up and scanned his eyes over it.

  “She went to the city, didn’t she?” he said.

  Magnus was already out of the room, headed toward the exit to the inn.

  He had to get to her before it was too late.

  CHAPTER 29

  AMARA

  KRAESHIA

  “Let me see if I understand this,” Felix said when Amara was finished explaining everything to him and Nerissa. “Your granny kidnapped Lyssa from right under Princess Lucia’s nose to use her blood in magic potions, and Mikah, the leader of the revolution, is going to be executed at your Ascension ceremony. And you’re not all right with either of those things.”

  How could he sound so calm when Amara had just shared so much she felt exhausted from the confession? “That’s right.”

  Felix glanced at Nerissa. “I’m going to go ahead and kill her now.”

  “Felix,” Nerissa snapped. “Try to think, would you?”

  “I am thinking. She’s a proven liar and manipulator, one who uses others for her own gain and their great misfortune.” His upper lip curled back from his straight white teeth as he studied Amara. Amara’s mind flashed to a time not so long ago when Felix had desired her. Judging by the look in his eye, none of those feelings remained. “And the moment the game is up and she has nowhere to limp off to, she suddenly wants to be a hero? How convenient.”

  “I’m no hero,” Amara said, refusing to show him any more fear.

  She was through with fear and doubt. She had only certainty within her now—certainty that the baby would be returned to Lucia and that Mikah would not die today.

  It surprised her how fiercely she clung to the need for Mikah’s life to continue. He was a rebel, one who would kill her in an instant if he got the opportunity, just like Felix.

  But what he’d said in the forgetting room—about her grandmother, about Amara’s deluded idea of achieving a peaceful and benevolent world by force and absolute rule.

  He’d been completely right.

  A man had been right in telling Amara she was wrong.

  It was a deeply annoying realization, but that didn’t make it any less true.

  “I know what I’ve done,” Amara said. “I’m not seeking redemption for it—I know that’s impossible. But you’re here, and you’re capable of helping me with these tasks.”

  “Tasks? You make it sound so simple.” Nerissa shook her head as she moved through Amara’s expansive chambers, brushing her hand along the back of a green velvet chaise. “You’re suggesting we mount an immediate rescue of two heavily guarded prisoners, but we’re only two people. It was difficult enough getting to this wing of the palace.”

  “Not that difficult,” Felix growled.

  “You will have my full cooperation.” Yet even Amara had to agree that what she proposed would not be simple. “Still, this is my Ascension day . . . so, yes, it will be tricky. Security is doubled throughout the Spear.”

  “Oh, yes, excellent plan,” Felix said. “You sending us off for slaughter so we’re out of the way of your shiny ceremony.”

  He would not listen to her, no matter what she said. She knew that. But she couldn’t let it stop her.

  “Nerissa,” Amara began. “You have to believe me that I want to help.”

  “I do believe you,” Nerissa replied. “And I agree that ensuring the safety of Lyssa needs to be a priority. She must be returned to her mother immediately.”

  “Good. So where do you suggest we start?” Amara eased herself down upon the chaise to take the pressure off her leg. The sun streamed in through the windows along the opposite side of the room. Through the windows she could see the crystal-blue waters of the Silver Sea.

  “Let’s say I go along with this,” Felix said, pacing the gilded ceramic floor of Amara’s chambers like a caged beast. “I go and scour the city, checking Mikah’s old hideouts for rebels that are still breathing, and I enlist them to join us in his rescue. After that, we wrestle the baby away from the clutches of evil granny. And what then? What happens to you?”

  “Then . . .” Amara carefully considered this. “I will still rule as empress.”

  Felix groaned. “Isn’t that convenient.”

  Amara’s heartbeat quickened. “I can! I’ve seen the error of my ways, that my grandmother has been far too instrumental in the darkest of my decisions. I don’t place the blame fully on her, of course. I chose to do what I did . . . just as my father would have selectively listened to his advisors.” She winced at the thought that she’d turned out to be exactly like the man she’d hated all her life. “But I can change, I can be better. And now that I’ve discovered that my grandmother has been manipulating me for her own gain, she will no longer be such a strong influence on me.”

  Felix raised his one visible eyebrow. “You honestly believe every piece of that soggy horse dung coming out of your mouth, don’t you?”

  He spoke with such disrespect that she got the overwhelming urge to scream so that her guards would arrive and have him arrested.

  Then Amara reminded herself, yet again, how much Felix had endured because of her. Most men wouldn’t still be standing, let alone breathing.

  He was strong. And she needed that strength today of all days.

  “It’s not horse dung,” she said firmly. “It’s the truth.”

  Felix looked at Nerissa, shaking his head. “I can’t listen to this for much longer.”

  Amara realized Nerissa’s attention hadn’t shifted from her for a moment. Her former attendant studied her carefully, her dark eyes narrowed, her slim arms crossed over her chest.

  “There’s no time for debate,” Nerissa finally said. “Felix and I will go search for local rebels, and I pray that we find enough who are willing to help.”

  Felix finally sheathed his blade, but his expression hadn’t softened even a fraction. “If we find them, I know they’ll help. Mikah was a great leader.” He frowned. “Is a great leader. Nothing has changed there.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Amara said, wanting to assist in any way she could.

  “No,” Nerissa replied. “You will stay here and get ready for your Ascension. Act as if everything is normal.”

  Frustration coursed through Amara, and she awkwardly pushed herself up from the soft chaise and back up to her feet. “But everything is not normal—far from it!”

  “All the more reason for you to pretend that it is. We do not want to raise the suspicions of your grandmother more than they already are. If that happens, she won’t let anyone within sight of either Mikah or Lyssa. And Mikah will die, executed in a dark room with no one to help him.”

  Amara wanted to argue more, but she saw the wisdom in Nerissa’s words. Finally, she nodded. “Very well. Please return as soon as you possibly can.”

  “We will.” Nerissa moved toward the door without further hesitation.

  Felix backed away from Amara slowly, as if he expected her to plunge a dagger into his back the moment he turned away.

  “If you’re lying yet again,” he said before he left the room, “you will regret it very, very much. You hear me?”
/>
  And then they were gone, and Amara was alone, wondering if she’d made the correct decision. Then again, any other decision would have resulted in her bleeding on the floor right now, gasping for her last breath.

  This had been the right thing to do.

  Still, it felt as unnatural and awkward as trying to walk on a broken leg.

  Amara tried her best to go about the rest of her day as originally planned. She meditated, bathed, and then took a midday meal of fruit and light pastries, which she barely touched.

  She had a final fitting for a new leg brace that would allow her to walk from now on unassisted by a cane. It was better, but she still couldn’t hide her limp.

  Then she waited as long as she could before allowing an attendant to paint her face, lining her eyes heavily in black coal, brushing her lips with a dye that would make them appear as red as rubies.

  Another attendant styled her long black hair, creating an intricate maze of braids.

  Finally, they helped Amara into her Ascension gown with Lorenzo supervising, pride for his magnificent piece of artistry shining in his eyes.

  “You are as beautiful as a goddess today, your majesty,” he said as the heavy wings were placed onto her shoulders.

  Amara looked into the mirror at her heavily made-up eyes, the color of her irises the exact same pale gray-blue as Ashur’s were.

  She’d wanted what Lorenzo said for so long. To be a goddess. To have ultimate power at any cost—any cost at all.

  And a part of her still wanted that. Still wanted that shiny, exquisite bauble that now lay just out of her reach.

  I can have both, she silently told her golden reflection. I can have power and make the right decisions. Today is the first day of my new life.

  After she left Lorenzo, she shrugged off any cloying guard who wanted to escort her to the ceremony hall.

  “I know the way,” she told them. “And I wish only for silence and solitude to help collect my thoughts.”

  They didn’t question her. The guards bowed, let her pass, and didn’t follow.

  Of course they obey me, she thought. They knew they would be harshly punished if they didn’t.