Timotheus raised his hand. “Don’t interrupt me. I’m being as blunt with you as I’ve ever been with anyone, because I see now there is no time to be anything else.”
“So spit it out,” Jonas said. He felt frustrated with everything in his life, and he wanted to take it all out on this pompous immortal.
“Lucia’s son will have great importance. Many will wish to kidnap this child or to kill him. You will protect the child from harm and raise him as your own son.”
“Is that right? And Lucia and I will, what? Get married and live happily ever after? Unlikely.”
“No. Lucia is destined to die in childbirth during the coming storm.” He nodded firmly, a frown creasing his brow. “I see it now, clearly. I originally thought that her magic might transfer to you at the time of her death, making you a sorcerer, one who could walk between worlds, one whose destiny was to imprison the Kindred after they are all freed. But Lucia’s magic will live on through her son.”
Jonas gaped at him, stunned by his proclamation. “She’s going to die?”
“Yes.” Timotheus turned his back on him. “That is all I can tell you. Good luck to you, Jonas Agallon. The fate of all the worlds is in your hands now.”
“No, wait! I have questions. You need to tell me what I need to do—”
But Timotheus disappeared then, as did the meadow and the city in the distance.
Jonas woke to find his sister shaking him.
“It’s dawn,” she said. “Your girlfriend is awake. Time for both of you to get out of my home.”
CHAPTER 23
MAGNUS
PAELSIA
Magnus knew he’d never beg for anything in his life: not for mercy, not for forgiveness, and not for a second chance. Yet all he wanted to do was go after Cleo to try to make her understand.
Bloody Nic. If the stupid boy had managed to finally get himself killed, this recent rift with Cleo meant that Magnus couldn’t even celebrate such an occasion.
He took a step toward the stairs.
“No,” his grandmother’s voice stopped him. “Let her go. Pursuing her immediately will only make matters worse. Trust me.”
Magnus turned to see Selia standing in the doorway, regarding him curiously.
“I wasn’t aware our discussion was being overheard,” he said.
“My dear, even the deaf could have overheard that”—she cocked her head—“discussion, did you call it?”
“Apologies, Selia, but I don’t want to talk about this with you.”
“I’d much rather you call me Grandmother, like you used to when you were a little boy.”
Again, he turned toward the stairs, waiting to see if a miracle might happen and Cleo might return to him. “I’ll call you whatever I like.”
“You are surprisingly stern and serious for such a young man, even a Limerian, aren’t you? Then again, you were raised by Althea, so I’m not terribly surprised. I don’t remember ever seeing that woman smile.”
“Did my father happen to mention to you that he had her killed? And then he lied and told me that his mistress Sabina was my true mother?”
“No,” she said simply, twisting the silver snake pendant at her throat. “This is the first I’m hearing of this.”
“And you think it odd that I’m not laughing joyfully day in and day out when we’re at war with an entire empire that threatens to destroy us all?”
“Of course you’re right. Forgive me—my thoughts have been elsewhere.”
“I envy your thoughts.”
Selia pursed her lips. “You should know that your father will not survive the night. He will be claimed entirely by death by morning. Do you care?”
Magnus didn’t say anything to this. No thought came to his mind, good or bad.
He’d imagined he would celebrate this moment, the impending death of a man he’d hated for as long as he could remember.
“He loves you,” Selia said, as if reading his thoughts. “Whether you believe it or not, I know it’s true. You and Lucia are the most important parts of his life.”
He didn’t have time for such nonsense. “Really? I could have sworn it was his lust for power that was most important to him.”
“When on the very edge of death, matters such as fortune and legacy are meaningless in the face of knowing that someone who cares for you will hold your hand as you slip away.”
“I’ll have to remember that when I’m on the edge of death.” Magnus glared at her. “Apologies, but is there something you require from me? Because if you’re asking me to go upstairs and hold my father’s hand while he dies, leaving me to fix this mess he’s made, I’ll have to strongly decline.”
“No. What I want from you is to accompany me to the tavern this evening to meet with my friend Dariah.”
Magnus’s breath caught and held. “The bloodstone.”
She nodded. “I want you there by my side.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s important to me, that’s why. I know you have doubts about the choices I’ve made in the past, but one day soon I know you’ll understand.”
Magnus would go with her tonight. Not for matters of love, since those had locked themselves away in a small bedroom upstairs in a fit of anger and grief.
No, he would go because, in this uncertain time, the bloodstone sounded like a piece of magic worth killing for.
Magnus waited for Cleo to emerge from the bedroom, but she never did. When the sun set, he reluctantly left the Hawk and Spear Inn with Selia at his side. By now, he’d become quite accustomed to the Purple Vine. From its entrance, he could see the sea sparkling under the moonlight, the ships docked at port spilling their crews into the city. Basilia seemed more alive at night than during the day, when there was business to attend to. At night, all those who had toiled during the day now wished to drink and eat and pay attention to other base desires, all of which were catered to within a modest stroll from the docks.
The tavern was packed wall to wall with boisterous patrons, most of whom were already blindingly drunk by the time Magnus and Selia arrived. Still, Magnus wore his hood close around his face to shield his identity. He couldn’t risk being recognized again.
Selia led the way to a table in the far corner, seated at which were a beautiful, young auburn-haired woman and a man with bronze-colored hair that reached his shoulders and eyes the shade of copper coins.
It was a man Magnus recognized immediately.
At the sight of him, the memories of the road camp in the Forbidden Mountains of Paelsia flooded his mind. This man—an exiled Watcher—had been stationed there so that he could infuse the road with the magic required to pinpoint the four points in Mytica where the Kindred would be awakened.
Magnus had not spoken directly to the man at the time, but he’d watched him steal the life from another exile during a rebel attack.
“Xanthus,” Magnus finally forced the name out. “Do you remember me?”
The man rose to his feet, showing off his massive height. The thick band of the gold ring he wore on his right index finger glinted in the candlelight. “Your highness, of course I do.”
“No need for such pleasantries tonight. In fact, let’s forgo the use of my name or title altogether, shall we?”
Xanthus nodded. “As you wish.”
“You haven’t been seen or heard from in many months.”
“No, I haven’t,” Xanthus agreed. “My work for the king was complete, and it was time for me to rest and regain my strength. Please, sit.”
Magnus and Selia took a seat at the wooden block of a table.
“You look lovely tonight,” Selia said to the other woman, whom Magnus didn’t recognize. “Your control over air magic has improved greatly over the years.”
“Do you really think so?” the woman said with a giggle, twisting a lock of h
er long, silky auburn hair coyly around her finger.
Xanthus placed his hand over the woman’s. “Dariah always looks lovely.”
Dariah? Magnus regarded the woman now with fresh eyes as he realized that she’d used her elementia to shift her appearance to that of a younger, more attractive woman. If he watched carefully, he could see that her features appeared obscured, as if she sat in a shadow rather than beneath a lantern set into the wall, and that she appeared slightly too perfect to be real.
“Dariah tells me that you wish to speak to me,” Xanthus said. “She said it was important that I arrive as quickly as possible. For anyone else, I wouldn’t bother.”
“Tell me,” Magnus said, curiosity building inside of him to a point where it had to be released, “are you still in contact with Melenia?”
Xanthus shifted his gaze to Magnus. “No, I’m not.”
“What became of her? She stopped visiting my father’s dreams.”
“Melenia does what she wants when she wants. She is, I assume, focused on restoring my home to its previous greatness now that the Kindred have been awakened.”
At the mention of the crystals, Magnus waited for Selia to say something, but she remained silent, her curious gaze fixed on them both.
Xanthus took a drink from the goblet before him, signaling to the barmaid to bring over another round for the table. “What do you want from me tonight?”
“One more question, if you don’t mind,” Magnus said, his eyes narrowing. “Are you familiar with someone by the name of Kyan?”
Xanthus returned his full attention to Magnus, his expression grim. “He is free.”
“Yes. Might you have any inside advice on him?”
“Stay as far away from him as you can get, if you value your life,” Xanthus said. “Melenia, believing she was doing the right thing, helped the fire god to steal the corporeal form of a dear friend of mine.” He sent a dark look at Dariah as he drained his drink. “Is this why you insisted I come here tonight? To answer the prince’s questions about matters I don’t wish to discuss with anyone?”
“No, it’s not,” Selia answered on behalf of her friend. “But I find it fascinating to learn more about the fire Kindred, so thank you for that.”
“The Kindred have been awakened,” Dariah said, her voice filled with awe. “Is it true?”
“It is,” Selia said, smiling sweetly. “Xanthus, you’ve been exiled how many years?”
He looked at Dariah, who nodded. “Selia is a trusted friend,” she said.
“Very well. I left the Sanctuary twenty years ago.”
“Incredible,” Selia said, shaking her head. “All exiles I’ve ever heard of had their magic fade to a mere trace in a quarter of that time. Yet yours remained so powerful that you were able to bless the Imperial Road with it.”
He nodded. “Melenia ensured that my magic would not drain away over the years, nor would I be at risk of death as a mortal. That promise was put to the test not so long ago, when a dagger found my heart.”
The barmaid brought their drinks, and Magnus was dismayed to see that his was a mug of ale. He pushed it away from him.
“Not to your liking?” Selia asked. “Oh, that’s right. You prefer Paelsian wine.”
Magnus eyed her. “How do you know that?”
“Because you return to the inn smelling of it every evening.” She followed this harshness with a charming smile. “Gaius had a great thirst for wine in his youth, despite all the laws against it. His father was constantly furious at him for disrespecting the goddess. Paelsian, Auranian, Terrean, Kraeshian . . . whatever he could get his hands on. I’ve never tried it myself. Never wanted to. I prefer to keep my mind clear and sharp.”
Even with that said, Selia called a girl over and ordered two bottles of their best vintage. Magnus didn’t try to stop her, and when they arrived, he uncorked both bottles himself and drank deeply from one of them labeled “Agallon Vineyards.”
There truly was no escape from the rebel.
Selia raised a brow when he quickly drained the first bottle. “Wine won’t ever make your problems disappear. It will only magnify them.”
“Excellent advice from someone who’s never tasted a drop.” He sighed. “I grow weary of this horrible day. How long must we remain here tonight?”
“Not much longer.”
“Good.”
“Dariah,” Selia leaned over the table. “The time has come.”
“I understand.” Dariah nodded, her cheeks flushed. “Do what you must.”
Selia glanced at the exiled immortal. “I need your ring, Xanthus.”
“Do you? I’m afraid it’s not for sale,” Xanthus said smoothly, looking down at the thick piece of jewelry on his right hand, “but I’m happy to give you the name of the artisan who created it for me.”
“Dariah, you should know that I’ve been preparing for tonight since you left. Each day has felt like a year as I’ve watched my beloved son fade away before my eyes. You know I’d do anything for him. Drop your hold on your vanity for a moment and see if you can feel my restored magic tonight.”
Magnus watched his grandmother, not certain what she meant. Had she not told them that she required the bloodstone to restore her magic?
Dariah’s false beauty shifted and shimmered as she frowned. “Yes, I can feel the blood magic. Selia, how many have you killed to achieve this?”
“Enough. This city is full of men who’ll never be missed. I like it here.”
“What?” Magnus said, shocked by this admission. “When have you done this? You’ve been by my father’s side nearly every moment since we’ve arrived.”
“Every night after you all retire to your rooms.” Selia turned her patient smile toward him. “I need very little sleep, my sweet. And neither, it appears, does this city.”
“You don’t think I’ll try to stop you?” Dariah’s voice trembled.
Stop her? Magnus shifted his attention to the other witch, his confusion only growing.
“You can try.” Selia raised her chin, her lips thinning, her grip on Dariah’s hand tightening. “But you’ll fail.”
Dariah gasped, her free hand flying to her throat. “But . . . I . . . thought—”
Without another word, the woman’s beauty fell away like a mask, her older, wrinkled face revealed beneath her magic, and she slumped down to the tabletop.
Magnus regarded this with shock.
“You killed her,” Xanthus said, his voice low and dangerous.
“And you didn’t try to stop me.”
His eyes met hers. “Your magic is stronger than any witch’s I’ve ever witnessed.”
“Witches who are willing to do what is necessary can have nearly the same magic as a sorceress. For a short time, anyway.” Her gaze returned to his hand. “Now, about your ring.”
His gaze hardened. “My ring is not—”
Selia brought her dagger down hard and fast, and Xanthus’s index finger skittered across the table, leaving a bloody trail behind.
Xanthus roared in pain and lunged for Selia. “I’ll kill you!”
Fire lit him up a moment later, covering him in an instant. He tried to bat at it, to put it out, but it was too fast and ferocious.
“Come with me,” Selia told Magnus as she snatched the ring off the severed finger and slipped it into her pocket.
Magnus turned away from the screaming man on fire and rushed to follow his grandmother out of the tavern, leaving the other drunk patrons in confused chaos.
“Did I surprise you?” she asked as they made their way back to the tavern.
Magnus had remained silent, trying desperately to compose himself after what he’d witnessed. “I would have appreciated knowing your plans ahead of time.”
“Would you have tried to stop me?”
“From killing a w
itch and an exiled Watcher? Not at all,” he replied honestly. “I take it the bloodstone is hidden within the ring.”
“It is. I have exactly what we need.”
Magnus wanted the bloodstone for himself, but the thought of trying to take it from his grandmother after seeing what she’d done without barely blinking an eye . . .
Best for the moment, he thought, to stay entirely in the witch’s good graces.
Selia didn’t pause as they entered the inn, crossed the hall to the staircase, and ascended to the second floor. Magnus felt a little unsteady on his feet, thanks to the bottle of wine he’d quickly consumed, but his mind was still mostly clear. As he passed Cleo’s door, he brushed his hand over it, then followed Selia down the hallway and around a corner to his father’s room.
Inside, a skeletal man with flesh the same color as his bleached sheets lay on his bed.
Magnus hadn’t seen his father since their chat in the tavern. He’d gotten much worse. His lips were dry and cracked. The circles under his sunken eyes were as black as the night sky. Even his dark hair had grown brittle and gray. His eyes, the same brown as Magnus’s, were clouded over.
“My son,” the king rasped out, weakly raising his hand. “Please, come here.”
It always came as a shock to him when the king said please.
Magnus reluctantly sat at the edge of this father’s bed.
“I know you won’t forgive me. You shouldn’t forgive me. My choices, especially with you . . .” The king’s milky eyes were glossy. “I wish I’d been a better father to you.”
“Spare me the deathbed confessions,” Magnus said, his throat thick. “They’re wasted on me.”
“Shh, my darling.” Selia sat on the edge of Gaius’s bed, her hand to his forehead. “Save your strength.”
How Magnus had longed to put a sword through his father’s chest, to avenge his mother’s death, to make the king pay for all the years of abuse and neglect. To watch the life leave his eyes once and for all.
But this wasn’t how he’d wanted it to be. Magnus hadn’t wanted to feel anything for this monster except hatred.
“I know you tried to save me,” Gaius told his mother. “It doesn’t matter anymore. You must find Lucia at any cost. You must beg her to help, if necessary. I know she won’t let Mytica fall completely into the hands of Amara. Lucia will destroy all our enemies, and the throne will belong to my son.”