But then a wave of water hit Cleo from out of nowhere—an invisible wave that covered her mouth and nose. She couldn’t breathe. It took her under, drowning her.
No, it couldn’t happen again. She wouldn’t survive it this time.
“Yes,” the water Kindred whispered. “Let me take over now. Don’t resist. Everything will be much better the moment you stop struggling.”
It was too hard to keep fighting when the inevitable loomed in front of her.
The Kindred would win.
Cleo would lose.
And she had to admit the truth of it: It would be so easy to just stop struggling . . .
The sensation of Lucia grabbing hold of her hand and pushing something onto her finger drew her out of the invisible waters.
She gasped for air. “What? What are you doing to me?”
“Cleo, you’re all right,” Lucia told her firmly. “You’re alive, you’re all right. Just breathe.”
She forced herself to take one breath and then another. Finally, the drowning sensation ebbed away.
Lucia gripped her upper arms. “You have to fight this.”
“I thought you didn’t want me to.”
“I never said that. Hopefully, this will give you just a bit more strength, like it did for me in the beginning. After all, it rightfully belongs to you. You’ve just let me borrow it, really.”
Cleo frowned, not understanding. And then she looked down at her hand.
Lucia had given her back the amethyst ring.
“What—?” she began.
Lucia raised her hand to silence her. “Tell no one. The longer you keep fighting, the longer I’ll be able to make him believe the ritual needs to wait. Now, follow me. If we take any longer, he’ll send his personal servant back out to find us.”
Cleo reeled from having her ring back—the ring that helped Lucia control her magic. “Who, Enzo?”
“I know you like him. I like him too. But he’s been marked by fire—he has no choice but to obey Kyan. That’s why I sent him away.”
Cleo realized then that Lucia was fighting just as hard as she was, just in a different way. They weren’t enemies, not anymore. Perhaps they never were.
They were allies. But they were both at an extreme disadvantage.
“Lucia,” Cleo said, her voice hushed. “I know how to stop them.”
“Do you now?” An edge of wry humor entered Lucia’s voice. “Did you find this nugget of information in a book?”
“No. This nugget of information came from Nic himself last night.”
Lucia’s brow furrowed. “Impossible.”
Cleo shook her head. “Kyan isn’t as in control as he might present himself to be. He’s vulnerable right now, and Nic’s found a way to break through at times.”
Lucia’s gaze moved around them as they walked past a yard they’d once been seated at together. Cleo remembered very vividly the day they’d shared, part of which had been spent watching a group of attractive young men practice their swordplay.
The yard was empty today, more like a graveyard than a place that had contained so much life.
“What did he tell you?” Lucia asked, her voice low.
Cleo was still hesitant to tell her, but she knew they were each other’s best chance. “The orbs—the crystal orbs. They’re the Kindred’s anchors to this plane of existence. If they’re destroyed, the Kindred won’t be able to walk this world any longer.”
“Anchors,” Lucia repeated under her breath, frowning deeply. “Anchors to this world.”
“Yes.”
“And they need to be destroyed.”
“Yes, but that’s the problem. Magnus tried to destroy the aquamarine orb, but it didn’t work, no matter how hard he hit it with a rock.”
Lucia shook her head. “Of course not. They’re not crystal, not really. They’re magic.” She pulled her cloak tighter around her as if she’d just become chilled. “This makes sense, all of it. I’ve been trying to understand where the Kindred were all this time—this last thousand years. The Watchers and countless mortals have searched Mytica from north to south looking for this treasure.”
Cleo’s gaze scanned the concourse, cringing as she noticed another deep prisoner pit to the north. “But it wasn’t until your magic came into being that they could be awakened.”
“Yes, awakened,” Lucia nodded. “Because that’s exactly what happened. They were asleep, as in not conscious. They had no consciousness like they do now. They’re joined—the Kindred and the crystals. To destroy the crystal is simply to destroy its physical form. The magic would still exist in the air. In the earth beneath our feet. In the water of the sea. And in the fire in the hearth. All would be as it should be. How it should have been from the very beginning.”
Cleo’s head swam with all this information. “I’m glad to see you seem to be understanding all of this far better than I could ever hope to.”
Lucia smiled nervously. “I understand it—but far less than I’d like to.”
“So that’s what we have to do,” Cleo said with a nod. “Figure out a way to destroy the crystal orbs.”
Lucia didn’t reply. Her gaze grew distant again as she paused just steps away from the palace entrance.
Cleo eyed it uneasily, not wanting to enter. Lucia appeared just as hesitant.
“I can try to figure it out,” Lucia said. “But there’s one large problem I can see.”
“What?”
A shadow crossed her expression. “You. And Nic, and Olivia, and Taran. Your bodies—they’re mortal and fragile, flesh and blood. You are the current vessels for the Kindred, and I have no way of knowing if you’ll survive the impact this much magic would have upon you. I saw what happened to Kyan the last time he came face-to-face with counter-magic. It destroyed his shell. And that shell had been immortal.”
Cleo blinked.
But of course, Lucia was right. There was no easy way for this to end.
To destroy the crystals, to send the Kindred into a form of being that had no conscious hold upon this world . . .
It would kill them all.
But it would save her city. And it would save her world.
“I can’t speak for the others, but I can speak for myself,” Cleo said firmly. “Do whatever you have to do, Lucia. I’m not afraid to die today.”
Lucia nodded once. “I’ll try.”
The two continued through the palace. Similar to the vines outside, the walls of the corridors were coated in moss. Flowers grew from cracks in the marble.
Small fires burned, not in lanterns and torches set into the wall, like usual, but in shallow pits carved into the floor.
They passed a room, the door wide open, where a dozen guards clutched their throats, gasping for air.
“Taran,” Lucia said. “He too enjoys using his magic wherever possible.”
Cleo’s stomach lurched. “The real Taran would be mortified.”
“I have no doubt.”
Finally, they reached the throne room.
Cleo couldn’t believe it’d only been a day since she’d been here last.
It looked completely different. The high ceilings were covered in a canopy of vines and moss. The marble floor was now that of a forest floor; dirt and rocks and small plants poked through the surface. Several man-sized tornadoes spiraled and danced around the room, threatening to knock Cleo off-balance if she came too close to them.
Air magic, she thought. The air Kindred was playing with his magic to create yet more obstacles.
She looked ahead to see that the aisle that led to the dais was lined with blue fire, courtesy of the fire Kindred himself.
Kyan sat upon the vine-covered throne with Taran at his right and Olivia at his left.
Cleo’s fury peaked when she saw that he’d found her father’s gol
den crown and placed it upon his head, just as King Gaius had done when he’d taken over.
“And here she is,” Kyan said without rising. “I was worried about you, little queen, running away like that with no warning. Rather rude, really. And all I’d wanted to do was help you.”
“I guess I am rude. My deepest apologies for offending you.”
“Ah, you say that, but I know you don’t mean it. What do you think, Taran? You know, this little queen was quite enamored with your vessel’s twin brother. I think she would have married him, despite his low social ranking as a mere palace guard.”
“I’m surprised,” Taran replied. “My memories of Theon show that he much preferred tall brunettes, not short blondes.”
“But she is a princess. That excuses a myriad of shortcomings.” Kyan grinned. “Shortcomings, because she’s short. I am very funny, but so was Nic—right, little queen? He always made you laugh.”
Again, a sheet of ice formed beneath her feet, triggered by her rising fury.
“How sweet,” Olivia said. “She’s trying to access the water magic inside of her.”
“Oh, yes,” Kyan said, clapping his hands and laughing. “Let’s see you try. Go on, little queen, we’re watching.”
And she did. Cleo tried so hard to harness the magic within her. To freeze the room solid like she’d frozen the guard. To make the three monsters on the dais choke and sputter on a magical lungful of water, like she’d done to Amara the night of the first ritual.
Cleo thought that perhaps, with this ring on her finger, she might have a chance to control this, to end it.
But she couldn’t. This magic wasn’t hers to yield—not in any way she could control.
The sound within her of the water Kindred’s laugh only made her angrier and more frightened than she already was.
“Now,” Kyan said after he sobered. “Little sorceress, shall we begin?”
Lucia stepped forward. “I don’t have the aquamarine orb.”
“She keeps it in a velvet pouch in her pocket,” Taran said.
Kyan glared at him. “And you only mention that now?”
He shrugged. “My memories are improving. Yesterday was a bit of a blur, to be honest. This vessel fought hard to retain control.”
“But he lost,” Olivia said. “Just as the princess will.”
Cleo clasped her hands in front of her, keeping the ring covered from view. “Will I? Are you sure about that?”
Olivia smiled thinly. “Yes. I’m sure.”
“Give us the orb,” Kyan said. “It must now join the others.”
He gestured to a long table to their left. It was adorned with a blue velvet cloth—the backdrop for three crystal orbs.
Cleo turned a glare toward Lucia.
Lucia shrugged. “He asked. I delivered.”
Cleo shook her head. “I will give you the orb, Kyan, but I demand to see Lyssa first.”
“Ah, yes. Lyssa,” Kyan said evenly. “The sweet little missing baby that I kidnapped from her sweet little nursery, leaving the sweet little nursemaid in ashes. That was . . . so unkind of me, wasn’t it?”
Cleo watched him carefully. Every gesture, every look.
“Incredibly so,” Olivia agreed.
“But an excellent way to ensure the sorceress’s commitment to the cause,” Taran said. “You were very smart to think of it, Kyan.”
“Indeed, I was.”
There was something off about their delivery of this, as if they were mocking her.
“You don’t have her,” Cleo guessed. “Do you?”
Kyan’s smile fell. “Of course I do.”
“Then prove it.”
His eyes narrowed. “Or what?”
“Or . . . I won’t cooperate. I won’t give you the orb, and you won’t be able to do the ritual properly this time.”
Kyan sighed and pressed back into the throne, running a hand through his carrot-orange hair. “Taran?”
Taran waved his hand, and a strong gust of wind hit Cleo, wrapping itself around her like a large, hungry snake.
She watched with horror, unable to do anything to stop it, as the velvet pouch exited her pocket, sailed through the air, and landed in Kyan’s waiting hand.
He undid the drawstrings and looked inside. “Excellent. Over to you, little sorceress.”
He tossed it to Lucia, who pulled the orb out and placed it next to the others, exchanging a brief, pained glance with Cleo.
Four orbs, all ready to be used in the ritual that would solidify the Kindred’s existence here in this world and strengthen their power to the point where they could destroy the world with a thought.
Or four orbs ready to be destroyed, which would, very likely, kill Cleo, Nic, Taran, and Olivia.
For all Cleo had envied Lucia for her magic, she didn’t envy her current choice.
“I think it was a good idea to come here,” Kyan said, gazing around at the overgrown throne room that smelled of fresh life and acrid fire. “It has a sense of history, of eternity. Perhaps it’s all the marble.”
“I like it too,” Taran agreed. “We should reside here indefinitely.”
Olivia trailed her fingertips along the edge of the throne. “Oh, I don’t know. I think I prefer Limeros. All of that delicious ice and snow. Princess Cleo, you would do well there once my sibling takes over. Ice and snow is only water, isn’t it? Perhaps you could form a palace of ice.”
“Only if I could crush you underneath it,” Cleo replied.
Lucia snorted, but covered the sound with a cough.
“Oh, I don’t know,” another voice came from the throne room’s entryway. “The princess doesn’t favor the Limerian climate. She does look incredibly beautiful in her fur-lined cloaks, but she’s an Auranian girl through and through.”
Cleo spun around to face him.
Magnus leaned against the mossy doorframe as if he’d been there all the time, without a care in the world.
He pushed away and took several steps inside the room.
“I’ve come to negotiate a truce,” Magnus said. “One in which we are left in peace and the Kindred are sent directly to the darklands.”
CHAPTER 31
LUCIA
AURANOS
Clearly, her brother had lost his mind.
Lucia didn’t need this further complication added to an already impossible situation. But Magnus was here anyway.
While Kyan had taunted Cleo, Lucia had been studying the crystal orbs, trying to figure out how best to break them. Anything she thought of—blunt force, dropping them onto a clear area of marble on the now overgrown floor—seemed too expected, too easy. Cleo had already said that Magnus had tried to break the aquamarine orb and failed.
This would need something special. Something powerful. But what?
And even if she could figure it out in time, the more she considered it, the more she feared she’d been right about the effect on the Kindred’s mortal vessels.
She’d watched Kyan’s monstrous, fiery form shatter like glass.
He still hadn’t recovered from that. Cleo was right—the fire Kindred was currently vulnerable until Lucia performed the ritual.
But if she destroyed him, she’d destroy four people whose lives she valued.
And she might never find Lyssa again.
She could try to imprison them—but it would be slow, painful, and with an uncertain outcome. And she could only try to focus on one Kindred at a time.
The others would stop her.
Lucia turned toward Magnus as he approached. “What are you doing here?” she snarled at him.
He nodded at her. “Lovely to see you too. Beautiful day, isn’t it?”
“You shouldn’t be here.”
Magnus hadn’t arrived alone. Prince Ashur entered the throne room right behi
nd him. He gazed around at its new decor.
“Very nice,” Ashur said, nodding. “It reminds me of home.”
“Lovely Kraeshia,” Magnus replied. “I mean to visit the Jewel someday.”
“You should,” Ashur agreed. “Despite the current corrupt government led by my blackhearted sister, it’s the most beautiful place in this world.”
“I would argue that Limeros is, but I’d like to see for myself.” Magnus then turned toward Cleo. Despite his calm demeanor, there was a storm brewing in his brown eyes. “I got your note. I hope you don’t mind that I came after you anyway.”
Cleo’s expression was tense. “I mind.”
“I figured you would.” He looked up at Kyan and the others. “And here you are, seated upon a throne that far better men than you have possessed. And, quite frankly, I include my father in that statement.”
Kyan smiled down at him. “I do enjoy your sense of humor.”
“You are one of the few who do.”
“Kyan,” Lucia said, stepping forward. She had to do something, say something, to keep this from getting worse than it already was. “Spare my brother. Let him leave here without harm. He doesn’t know what he’s doing.”
“Oh, I disagree.” Kyan’s smile only grew wider. A line of blue fire ignited in front of him, zipped down the stairs, and formed a shallow circle around Magnus and Ashur. “I think he knows exactly what he’s doing, don’t you, little prince?”
Magnus eyed the blue flames uneasily. “I’d really prefer that you never call me that again.”
“But it suits you,” Kyan replied. “Little prince, one who marches in to save his little queen, like the hero you aren’t and will never be. Your princess is lost to you, little prince. She belongs to us now.”
The flames rose to knee level.
“Stop,” Lucia hissed. “If you hurt my brother, I swear I won’t help you.”
“But what about Lyssa?” Kyan asked evenly.
“Lucia, it’s a bluff,” Cleo told her. “He doesn’t have her, I’m sure of it now. She wasn’t at the temple last night, and Nic hadn’t seen her. He didn’t know anything about the kidnapping.”
Lucia’s breath left her as she considered this possibility.