Crystal Storm

  She cocked her head but didn’t budge an inch otherwise. “Doubtful.”

  Jonas narrowed his eyes and tried with all his might to channel his own thread of magic as he’d unconsciously done on the ship with Felix. “Let go of me.”

  She lost her grip on his throat and fell backward as if he’d physically shoved her.

  Coughing and holding his throat, he got to his feet and looked down at her.

  He felt a small smile form on his lips. Olivia must have been wrong about the extent of his magic. Jonas allowed himself the briefest moment of victory over this.

  Lucia looked up at him, her eyes wide. “You can channel air magic? A witch boy? I’ve never heard of such a thing. Or . . . are you an exiled Watcher?”

  “I prefer to avoid labels, princess,” he said. “And frankly, I don’t know what the hell I am, only that I have to deal with this now.” He pulled his shirt down far enough that she could see the spiral mark on his chest. It had only grown brighter since the last time he looked at it, and it was now glimmering with a gold that reminded him more of a Watcher’s mark.

  “What?” Lucia shook her head, her eyes wide. “I don’t understand.”

  “Neither do I. And I swear, if this is my prophecy, to make sure someone like you returns to your hateful family all safe and sound, I’m going to be furious.” He looked up at the trees. “You hear me, Olivia, wherever you are? Worst prophecy ever!”

  “Who’s Olivia?”

  “Never mind that.” He looked down at Lucia, still sprawled on the ground. “Get up.”

  She tried to push herself up. “Um . . .”

  “You can’t stand up, can you?”

  “Give me a minute. My belly is a bit awkward at the moment.” Lucia glared at him. “No, please, don’t even think about helping me.”

  “I wasn’t.” He watched as she slowly and painstakingly rolled onto her side, then rose to her feet, brushing off her cloak to free it from the pine needles and dirt it had picked up. “Aren’t you used to your condition by now? I’ve seen pregnant Paelsian women only days from giving birth chop down a whole tree’s worth of wood and carry it back to their cottages.”

  “I am not a Paelsian woman,” she said, then blinked. “Well, not exactly. And I haven’t had time to get used to my condition, as you call it.”

  Such a strange girl. “How far along are you?”

  “Not that it’s any of your business, but . . . a month or so.”

  Jonas scanned her full form with disbelief. “Is this the way it is with evil sorceresses? Their unborn spawn grow much swifter than normal babies?”

  “I wouldn’t know.” Lucia crossed her arms over her belly, as if trying to shield it from him. “I understand your hatred for me. I understand everyone’s hatred for me. What I’ve done since . . . since the father of this child died is unforgiveable. I know that. But this child is innocent and deserves a chance at life. The fact that you, of all people, came to the aid back there of someone like me—someone marked like an immortal, someone who doesn’t claim to be a witch or an exile—that must mean something. You speak of prophesies. I’m well aware of being the subject of prophesies. To me, it means that this child matters to the world.”

  “Who was the father?” Jonas asked. He didn’t want to feel sorry for what she’d been through or allow the catch in her voice to move him.

  “An exiled immortal.”

  “And you say he’s dead.”

  She nodded once.

  “How did he die?” Jonas asked. “Did you kill him?”

  Lucia was silent for so long that he didn’t think she’d answer. “No. He took his own life.”

  “Interesting. Is that the only way to escape from your dark clutches?”

  Lucia’s look of sheer hatred made him flinch. But the look was more than that. Her eyes were pink-rimmed, a mixture of exhaustion and sadness.

  “Apologies,” Jonas said before he had a chance to think about his response. “I suppose that was unnecessarily harsh.”

  “It was. But I’d expect no less from someone who thinks I’m sheer evil. What Kyan did to your friend . . .”

  “Lysandra,” he choked out. “She was incredible: the bravest and strongest girl I’ve ever known. She deserved the life that Kyan stole from her without a second of hesitation. He was aiming for me—I’m the one who should have died that day, not her.”

  She nodded sadly. “I’m so sorry. I’ve come to realize that Kyan isn’t a person, isn’t someone with feelings and needs like mortals have, and he isn’t someone who can be reasoned with. Kyan sees every fault and imperfection in this world. He wishes to be the one to burn it to ashes so it can begin again. I’d say that he’s insane, but he is fire. Fire burns. It destroys. That is its reason for existing.”

  “He wants to destroy the world,” Jonas repeated.

  She nodded. “It’s why I left him. Why he nearly killed me when I said I wouldn’t help him anymore.”

  Jonas took a moment to absorb this. “You say fire destroys. But fire also cooks food, it warms us on cold nights. That kind of fire isn’t evil—it’s an element we use to keep us alive.”

  “All I know for sure is that he needs to be stopped.” She reached into the pocket of her cloak and drew out a small amber orb, the exact same size as the earth Kindred. “This was Kyan’s prison.”

  Jonas found himself momentarily speechless. “And you think you can put him back in there and save the world?”

  “I plan to try,” she said simply.

  He looked at Lucia’s face, determined and serious as she gazed at the crystal orb. She sounded so sincere. Could he believe her? “Given what I now know about the fire Kindred, the empress doesn’t seem like much of a threat at all, does she?”

  Lucia slipped the orb back into her pocket. “Oh, Amara has definitely shown herself to be a threat. But Kyan is far worse. So think me evil, rebel. Consider me someone who needs to die for my crimes. Fine. But know also that I want to try to fix some of what I’ve done, now that I’m able to think clearly again. First, I need to see my family. I need to—” Lucia’s words cut off as she doubled over and cried out.

  Jonas rushed to her side. “What’s wrong?”

  “Pain!” she managed. “This had been happening far too often since I left. Oh . . . oh, goddess! I can’t . . .”

  She dropped to her knees, clutching her belly.

  Jonas stared at her, feeling completely helpless. “Damn it. What can I do? Is the baby coming already? Please don’t tell me the baby is coming.”

  “No, it’s not . . . I don’t think it’s time yet. But this—” When she screamed, the sound sliced through Jonas like a cold blade. “Take me to my family! Please!”

  The princess’s face had gone stark white against her raven-black hair. Her eyes rolled back in her head as she dropped to her side, unconscious.

  “Princess,” he said, trying to shake her awake. “Come on, there’s no time for this.”

  Lucia didn’t wake up.

  Jonas turned to look in the direction of the riots. It wouldn’t be long before the Paelsian mob found weapons and came after him and the sorceress.

  Finally, swearing under his breath, he crouched down and picked the princess up in his arms, finding her much lighter than he’d expected, even with the child she carried within her.

  “No time to get to your family,” he said, “so I’m taking you to mine. They’re much closer.”

  • • •

  Jonas’s sister, Felicia, opened the door to her cottage and stared out at Jonas for a long moment in utter silence.

  Then she looked at the unconscious, pregnant girl he carried in his arms.

  “I can explain,” he said quickly.

  “I would certainly hope so. Come in.” She opened the door wider so Jonas could enter, careful not to knock Lucia’s legs ag
ainst the rough door frame.

  “Put her on my bed,” Felicia instructed Jonas. He did as she said before returning to his sister, who didn’t greet him with a hug. Instead she stood there, her expression drawn and severe, her arms crossed over her chest.

  He didn’t expect her to be happy to see him.

  “I’m sorry I haven’t visited,” he began.

  “I haven’t seen or heard from you in nearly a year, and you show up tonight with no warning.”

  “I needed your help. With . . . the girl.”

  She snorted. “Yes, I’m sure you do. Is the child yours?”

  “No.”

  She didn’t look convinced. “And what do you expect me to do for her?”

  “I don’t know.” He rubbed his forehead and began to pace back and forth in his sister’s small cottage. “She isn’t well. She had stomach pains and collapsed. I didn’t know what to do with her.”

  “So you brought her here.”

  “I knew you would help me.” He let out a shaky sigh. “I know you’re angry with me that I’ve been away so long, but it’s been too dangerous to return.”

  “Yes, I saw the wanted posters. What was it? Ten thousand centimos for your capture, dead or alive?”

  “Something like that.”

  “You killed Queen Althea.”

  “I didn’t. It’s a long story.”

  “I’m sure.”

  He glanced around, checking for any sign of his sister’s husband. “Where’s Paolo?”

  “Dead.”

  Jonas’s gaze shot back to hers. “What?”

  “He was taken from me, forced to work on the Imperial Road. They wanted Father too, but they decided because of his age and his limp that he was useless to them. Paolo didn’t return when the workers were finally released from their duties. What am I to think except that he was killed along with scores of other Paelsians who were treated like slaves?”

  Jonas stared at her with shock. Paolo had been a good friend of his back when life was hard but simple. “Felicia, I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”

  “No, I’m sure you didn’t. Just as I’m sure you didn’t think keeping that little Golden Princess locked in our shed would nearly lead to his death as well.”

  “Of course I didn’t know that.” He cast his eyes downward at the dirt floor. “You . . . you say Father wasn’t taken?”

  “No. But from the moment he learned of the chief’s death, he became very ill—ill with grief unlike anything he felt when either Mama and Tomas died. It’s like his will to live began to slip away. I lost him two months ago. I run the vineyard now. Long days, Jonas, with very little help.”

  His father had died, and Jonas had had no idea. He sat down heavily in a chair. “I’m so sorry I haven’t been here for you. I don’t know what to say.”

  “There’s nothing you can say.”

  “When this is over, when this kingdom is back to how it should be, I will return here. I will help you run the vineyard.”

  “I don’t want your help,” she spat out, anger that she’d been holding back until now spilling out like an overturned cask. “I can do it fine on my own. Now, I feel that’s more than enough catching up. Let’s deal with your current problem so you can be on your way as soon as possible. I’m no healer, but I’ve helped plenty of pregnant girls before.”

  “Whatever you can do to help is much appreciated. I just hoped you might know how to stop the pain.”

  “Some pregnancies are more difficult than others. Who is she?” She looked at him sharply when he didn’t answer. “Tell me, Jonas, or I’ll send you back into the night.”

  His sister was different now, harder, angrier. Every word from her mouth made him cringe.

  He felt foolish to think that he could return here and nothing would have changed after being gone for so long. He’d meant to send a message, to check in, but it hadn’t happened. And time had gone by.

  “She’s Lucia Damora,” he answered honestly, since he owed Felicia that much.

  Felicia’s eyes widened with shock. “What are you thinking bringing that evil witch in here? She is not welcome in my home. Are you aware of what she’s responsible for? A village not ten miles from here was burned to the ground, everyone in it killed, because of her. She deserves to die for what she’s done.”

  Each word felt like a blow, and he couldn’t argue with any of them. “Perhaps she does, but right now her magic is needed to save Mytica. To save the world. You wouldn’t let an innocent child suffer because of the choices of its mother, would you?”

  She laughed then, drily. “Listen to you, defending a royal princess—from Limeros, no less. Who are you, Jonas? Who has my brother become?”

  “Amara can’t be allowed to control Mytica,” he reasoned. “I’m willing to do whatever it takes to stop her.”

  “You are blind as well as dumb, brother. The empress is the only one who can save us all. Or have you forgotten the past so easily now that your head has been turned by that piece of evil dung currently sleeping on my bed?”

  “My head has not been turned by anyone,” he growled. “But I know what’s right.”

  “Then you need to wake up. The empress is the best thing that’s happened to Paelsia in generations.”

  “You’re wrong.”

  “I’m not wrong,” she said, her fiery anger finally dissipating as weariness set into her voice. “But I can’t be bothered to convince you of something I know is right. You’re lost to us, Jonas. I can see it in your eyes. You’re not the same boy who grew up wishing to be like Tomas, who went with him to poach on the border of Auranos, who chased after all the girls in the village. I don’t know who you are anymore.”

  His heart ached at the thought of how much he’d disappointed her. “Don’t say that, Felicia.”

  She turned away from him. “I’ll let you and that creature stay for the night. That is all. If she dies of this pain she has, then let her die. The world will be better off without her in it.”

  Jonas reclined on the dirt floor, next to the fire, his mind in turmoil.

  When he’d come here, he’d at least had a sense of direction, of purpose. He needed to get Lucia to her family.

  The Damoras. The King of Blood who had oppressed his people. Who’d murdered Chief Basilius. Who’d lied to two armies about his reasons for starting a short-lived war with Auranos.

  Felicia was right. Amara Cortas had ended all of that with this occupation.

  How had he found himself on this path? He was a rebel, not the simpering assistant to a sadistic king.

  It took a long time before he fell asleep. In a dream, he found himself in a lush green meadow under a bright blue sky. In the distance, a city that looked to be made from crystal sparkled in the sun.

  “Jonas Agallon, we finally meet. Olivia has told me so much about you. I am Timotheus.”

  He turned to be greeted by the sight of a man who appeared to be only a handful of years older than him. His hair was the color of dark bronze, his eyes a pale copper. He wore white robes that fell all the way to the emerald-green grass.

  “You’re in my dream,” Jonas said slowly.

  Timotheus raised a brow. “A brilliant deduction. Yes, I am.”

  “Why?”

  “I expected you’d be full of questions for me.”

  Of all the sensations he felt at being face to face with the immortal Olivia had told him little about, he felt no shock, no surprise, only weariness. “Questions that you’ll answer?”

  “Some, perhaps. Others, perhaps not.”

  “No, it’s all right. Just let me sleep. I’m tired, and I can’t be bothered with solving riddles.”

  “Time is running out. The storm is nearly upon us.”

  “Do you talk like this to everyone, so annoyingly vague?”

  Timotheus cocke
d his head. “Actually, yes. Yes, I do.”

  “I don’t like it. And I don’t like you. Whatever this is,” Jonas patted the mark on his chest, “I want it gone. I want nothing to do with your kind. I’m Paelsian. I’m not a Watcher, or a witch, or whatever you think this makes me.”

  “That mark makes you very special.”

  “I don’t want to be special.”

  “You don’t have a choice.”

  “I always have a choice.”

  “Your destiny is set.”

  “Kiss my arse.”

  Timotheus blinked. “Olivia did mention that you’re rather single-minded in your observations. However, I’m sure you’ve noticed that you now possess a sliver of magic. Phaedra’s magic. Olivia’s magic. You absorbed these like a sponge absorbs water. What you are is rare and, I’ll say it again, special. The visions I’ve had of you are important.”

  “Right. The visions. The prophecy of me delivering Lucia Damora to her family.”

  “Is that what you think?”

  “Seems like that’s where this destiny of mine is taking me.”

  “No, not exactly. You will know when it happens. You will feel—”

  “What I feel right now is the need to put a knife in your gut.” Jonas glared at the immortal. “You dare enter my dream now, after all this time? Olivia’s helped to keep me alive, just like you told her to. I guess she’s done with me now. Or maybe she’s spying on me from above as a hawk, just like you all do. All I know for sure is that I’m through with this. I don’t care what you have to say. You dangle half truths as if the lives of mortals are a game.”

  Timotheus’s voice lowered. “This is not a game, young man.”

  “Oh, no? Then prove it. Tell me my destiny, if you think it’s something I can’t avoid.”

  Timotheus studied him. “I didn’t foresee Lucia’s pregnancy,” he admitted. “That was a surprise to me, as I’m sure it was to her. It’s been shielded from all of us by the Creators, and there must be a reason for this—an important reason. My original vision of you was that you were to assist Lucia during the storm—”

  “What storm are you talking about?”