The last thing Lucia saw before she passed out was the force of her father’s army storming through the broken, burning doorway and into the Auranian castle.
After the explosion that blasted open the front doors, chaos descended. Cleo couldn’t give in to her grief, couldn’t fall to her knees and sob over her sister’s death. She had no choice but to keep moving. Their enemies had breached the castle.
Screams of fear and the violent clang of swords met her ears as she and Nic ran through the halls. She clung to his arm. “What can we do?”
There was sweat on his brow as he kept his attention on their path. “I have to find Mira. We need to...I don’t know. I want to help. I want to fight, but I know your father would want me to keep you and my sister safe.”
“How? How can we be safe now?”
Nic shook his head, his expression grim. “We’ll have to hide. Then try to escape when we have the chance.”
“I need to find my father.”
He nodded, then swore under his breath. Storming down the dark hallway toward them was Aron. He grabbed hold of Nic’s shirt.
“They’re everywhere,” Aron cried. “Goddess help us. They managed to blast their way in!”
“Are you all right?” Cleo asked despite herself. The boy bled from a cut under his left eye.
“Someone grabbed me. I fought them, got away. Took this for protection.” He had a bloody dagger clutched in his right hand. A flash of Tomas Agallon’s murder tore through her mind and her throat closed. She forced the memory away.
As Aron drew closer, she could smell the wine on his breath. “You’re drunk!”
He shrugged. “Maybe a little.”
Her lip curled with disgust. “It’s barely daybreak and you’re already drunk.”
He ignored her. “So what are we supposed to do now?”
“Nic wants to find Mira and then for us to hide.”
“I think that’s an excellent idea. What about your sister?”
“Emilia—she...she’s dead.” Her throat tightened and Nic pulled her closer to his side.
Aron’s bleary face went pale with shock. “Cleo, no. I can’t believe it.”
Cleo drew in a ragged breath. “There’s no time. Say nothing more about it. She’s gone and there’s nothing I can do to help her now. We need to survive. And I need to find my father.” She looked at Nic. “Go find Mira. Meet us in the corridor by the stairs to the upper level in fifteen minutes. If we’re not there, continue on and hide where you can. There are plenty of rooms up there. Find one and be as quiet as you can. This is a very large castle, and this siege can’t last forever.”
“It’ll be all right?” Nic gestured at Aron. “With him as your only protector?”
“It’ll have to be.”
Nic nodded. “I’ll see you soon. Be safe, Cleo.” He quickly kissed her cheek before he turned and ran off down the hall.
“Maybe we should go with him,” Aron suggested. “There’s safety in numbers.”
“Not necessarily. Larger numbers could draw more attention.”
Cleo tried to push past her fear and grief to find an answer. She only had one. Find the king and then they all had to hide until this was over. If Auranos was unsuccessful in its attempts to fight off this enemy, they would have to find a way to escape from the palace and go into exile until they could make this right again. She hoped that her father had a better plan in mind. For now, survival was the only goal.
Aron didn’t argue any further, instead running alongside her in silence as they made their way through the labyrinthine hallways. When they turned the next corner, Cleo skidded to a stop.
She couldn’t speak. She just stared at the familiar person who now stood facing them holding a sword.
“Well, well,” Prince Magnus said. “Just the princess I’ve been looking for.”
A wall of fear descended upon Cleo. All she could see was Magnus thrusting his sword through Theon’s chest.
“Who are you?” Aron demanded.
“Me?” Magnus cocked his head. “I am Magnus Lukas Damora, crown prince and heir to the throne of Limeros. And who are you?”
Aron blinked, surprised at being faced with such a formidable member of royalty, even though he was their enemy. “I am Lord Aron Lagaris.”
This earned a thin smile from the prince. “Yes, I’ve heard about you. You’re rather famous, Lord Aron. You killed the wine seller’s son and started this whole ball rolling, didn’t you?”
“It was self-defense,” Aron said nervously.
“Of course it was. I have no doubt.” Magnus’s unpleasant smile stretched wider. “And you’re also, if I’m not mistaken, currently engaged to Princess Cleiona. Is that right?”
Aron straightened his back. “It is indeed.”
“How wonderfully romantic.” His gaze flicked to Cleo, who did everything she could not to recoil from the very sight of him. “As you can probably already tell, we’ve arrived. And we’re not going anywhere. Surrender.”
“To you?” Cleo’s words burst forth without any forethought. “Never.”
His expression tightened. “Oh, come now. I know we’ve had some unpleasantness between us in the not-so-distant past, but there’s no reason why you can’t be nice.”
“I can think of about a million reasons why I would never want to be nice to you.”
“Princess, you must not be rude to those who are now guests in your land. I’m offering you my hand in friendship right now.”
Her cheeks burned. “You dare invade my home, and now you treat me like an ignorant child?”
“My sincere apologies if you’ve taken it that way. My father will be pleased to finally make your acquaintance. Don’t make this more difficult than it has to be. I’ve failed to bring you before him once. I don’t intend on that happening again.”
Cleo clutched Aron’s arm, waiting for him to do something, to say something. To show that underneath the drunken, selfish exterior that he was a true hero she could forgive for anything horrible he’d done in the past.
“The prince is right,” Aron replied, his expression grim. “If we want to live through this, we need to do as he says. We need to surrender.”
She gave him a cold and enraged glare. “You are so incredibly pathetic, you make me want to vomit.”
“Uh-oh, don’t tell me there’s trouble between you and the boy you love, even before your wedding day.” Magnus’s dry words twisted with amusement. “Don’t make me give up on my romantic ideals of true love.”
Cleo turned to face this monster. “No, actually you killed the boy I loved right in front of me.”
He looked at her with confusion before clarity slid through his dark eyes. Then his brows drew together. “I told him to stand down.”
“He was protecting me.” Her bottom lip trembled. “And you killed him.”
That small frown that contradicted his usual icy expression grew a fraction deeper.
“Wait,” Aron said. “Who are we talking about?”
She ignored him and forced herself to keep her expression neutral. “Prince Magnus...”
“Yes, Princess Cleiona?”
“I want you to give your father a message from me.”
“You can certainly deliver it yourself, but all right. What is it?”
“Tell him that his son has failed again.”
Cleo turned and began running away as fast as she could. She knew the halls of this castle better than anyone. The prince’s roar of anger echoed against the stone walls as he lost sight of her.
Another time, another place, she might have smiled at this small victory. And while she felt a twinge of regret at leaving Aron behind, it was only a twinge. If he wanted to surrender to the Limerians so easily, he still had every chance to do so—without
her at his side.
Angry shouts and the clash of metal on metal came from up ahead and she froze, pressing up against the wall. Can’t go that way. She’d have to find another path. She couldn’t give up on finding her father.
As she turned the next corner, someone grabbed her by her hair, wrenching her so hard that it felt as if it would be pulled out by its roots. She screamed and tried to kick and claw at whoever it was. A Limerian soldier eyed her curiously.
“What do we have here?” he asked. Her gaze shot to his sword, which dripped blood to the marble floor. “Pretty little thing, aren’t you?”
“Let go of me,” she snarled. “Or you’re dead.”
He laughed. “You have spirit. I like that. Won’t last long, but I like it.”
Then, astonishingly, he let go of her and staggered forward. Out of the corner of her eye, Cleo watched his companion fall to the ground, collapsing at the same time as her attacker. Both bled out onto the floor.
King Corvin stood there, his face a mask of fury, his sword covered in blood to its hilt.
“Father!” she gasped.
“It’s not safe here.” He grabbed her arm and half-dragged her down the hall.
“I was looking for you. Those men...”
“I know. This shouldn’t have happened.” He swore under his breath. “I don’t know how they got through the doors.”
“I was told they were enforced by a witch’s spell. Is that true?”
He eyed her. Her heart lurched to see that he’d been hurt. There was a vicious cut on his temple and blood dripped steadily down his cheek. “They were.”
All her life, Cleo had never realized her father believed in witches or magic. He’d turned his back on the goddess after her mother had died, so she’d never asked. She wished she’d known the truth. He pulled her into a small room at the end of the hallway. He closed the door and pressed his back against it. A small window let in just enough light to see.
“Thank the goddess I found you,” she said, finally allowing herself a measure of relief. “We need to get to Nic and Mira. We need to keep hidden until we can find a chance to escape.”
“I can’t leave, Cleo.” He shook his head. “And we can’t leave Emilia here by herself.”
And just like that, the tears that hadn’t spilled since she’d left her sister’s room began to flow like an endless river. “She’s gone. Emilia’s gone. I found her earlier in her chambers.” She struggled to find her breath as she sobbed. Her chest hitched. “She—she’s dead.”
Grief flashed across the king’s expression as well as something darker and more bleak. “I was wrong, Cleo. I’m sorry. I should have sent my men to find this exiled Watcher you told me about in Paelsia. I should have believed what you claimed was possible. I could have helped save her life.”
She had no response to that. She wished he’d done so too. So much. “It’s too late now.”
He reached out and clutched her arm so tightly that she yelped in pain. It was as effective as a slap to bring her to her senses and stop her tears.
“You need to be strong, Cleo.” His voice caught. “You are now the heir to my throne.”
Her stomach lurched. She hadn’t even thought of that. “I’m trying, Father!”
“There’s no choice anymore for you, my darling girl. You must be strong. For me, for Auranos, for everything you hold dear.”
Panic tightened her chest. “We need to go right now.”
There was deep pain on the king’s face. His eyes shone with tears. “This isn’t right. I’ve been a fool. Such a blind fool. I could have prevented this, but it’s too late now.”
“No, it’s not too late. Don’t say that!”
He shook his head. “They’re going to win, Cleo. They’re going to take it all. But you must find a way to take it back.”
She looked at him with confusion. “What are you talking about?”
Sweat dripped from his brow. He felt at his neck, pulling a long gold chain from underneath his shirt. He tugged to break it. On the end was a gold ring with a purple stone that he pressed into her hand. “Take this.”
“What is it?”
“It belonged to your mother. She always believed it had the power to help find the Kindred.”
“The Kindred,” Cleo breathed. She remembered Eirene’s words. Four crystals that held the essence of elementia. It was what had been stolen by the two goddesses and split between them. Fire and air, earth and water. “But why would my mother have something like this?”
“It was passed down through her family line from a man who was said to have been involved with a sorceress. It was so many years ago that it became legend. Your mother still believed it was true. I was going to give it to Emilia on her wedding day.” His voice broke. “But since that never came to be, I held on to it. You must take it. If you can find the Kindred, you’ll be powerful enough to take back this kingdom from those who seek to destroy us all.”
She looked up into his face, clutching the ring tightly. “I never knew you believed in magic.”
“I believe, Cleo. Even when I didn’t believe, I believed in your mother’s faith in it.” He gave her a pained smile. “But please be careful. Whatever weapon King Gaius used to breach the protection spell must be powerful and dangerous.”
“Come on, we need to move,” Cleo urged. “We’ll find the Kindred together. We’ll take back this kingdom together.”
He pressed his hand against her cheek, his expression one of aching sadness. “I wish that were possible.”
“What are you—” Cleo’s words cut off. There was something in the way he was standing, pressed up against the wall. His other hand was now tight against his side. Her gaze moved to the floor, where she finally saw the pool of blood that had formed there.
Her eyes shot back to her father’s face. “No!”
“I killed the one who did this to me.” He shook his head. “Small comfort.”
“You need help. You need a medic. A healer!”
“It’s too late for that.”
Cleo pressed her shaking hand against his side to find it soaked with blood. Pain crashed down upon her. “No, Father, please. You can’t leave me. Not like this.”
He slipped a few more inches and she grabbed hold of him to help him stay on his feet. “I know you’ll be a wonderful queen.”
Tears streamed down her face so much that she could barely see. “No, please. Please don’t leave me.”
“I love you.” Her father’s voice had grown strained as if it took great effort now for him to speak. “I’ll always love you. Be smarter than me. Be a better leader than me. Help bring Auranos back to its former glory. And believe in magic...always. I know it’s out there waiting for you to find it.”
“No, please no,” she whispered. “Don’t go. I need you.”
He finally slipped out of her grasp to the floor. His grip on her hand tightened painfully, then eased off completely.
Her father was dead.
Cleo had to clamp her hand over her mouth to keep from screaming. She collapsed to the floor and hugged her knees to her chest, rocking herself back and forth. A cry of anguish locked in her throat, threatening to choke her. Then she clutched onto her father, not wanting to let him go even though she knew he was gone. “I love you. I love you so much.”
He hadn’t surrendered to the Limerians. If he had, this all could have been avoided.
But even as she thought it, she knew it wasn’t the truth. This king of Limeros, King Gaius, was a tyrant. A dictator. An evil man who would kill anyone who got in his way. If her father had stepped aside to prevent violence and bloodshed, she was positive he would have been killed anyway so he wouldn’t be a threat in the future.
Cleo kept her head against her father’s shoulder, the same as when she
was little and needing comfort from some silly thing—hurt feelings, a skinned knee. He’d always drawn her to his side and told her it would be all right. The pain would ease. She would heal.
But she would never heal from this. She’d experienced so much loss that it felt as if a part of her heart had been gored out of her chest, leaving a bloody wound behind. She would stay here and let Prince Magnus find her. Let him drive a sword through her as well so she could find peace and quiet after all of this chaos and pain.
The hopeless thought only lasted a few minutes before she could hear her sister’s voice in her head, urging her to be strong. But how was she supposed to be strong when everything had been taken from her?
The ring caught her eye. She’d dropped it. The large amethyst glittered in the meager light of the room.
She was a descendant of the hunter—the man from Paelsia who’d loved the sorceress, Eva. Who’d hidden the Kindred after the goddesses destroyed each other out of greed and vengeance. If what her father had told her was true, this had been Eva’s ring—the ring that allowed her to touch the Kindred without its infinite magic corrupting her.
Cleo grasped the ring and slipped it onto the middle finger of her left hand.
It fit perfectly.
If this ring had the power to help her find the Kindred, it also gave her the power to wield the Kindred’s magic without becoming corrupted by it. She could use that magic to take back her kingdom from those who’d stolen it. The thought worked to dry her tears and give her clarity. She wouldn’t surrender. Not today, not ever.
Cleo gazed upon her father’s face one last time before leaning forward to kiss him.
“I’ll be strong,” she whispered. “I’ll be strong for you. For Emilia. For Theon. For Auranos. I swear, I’ll make them pay for what they’ve done.”
Ioannes watched the old woman as she put her laundry out to dry on a line stretched between two withered trees near her humble stone cottage. Her face was grim, and she glanced up in his direction every few moments.