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ISBN: 978-1-101-62323-7
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Map
Cast of Characters
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER 1: MAGNUS
CHAPTER 2: JONAS
CHAPTER 3: CLEO
CHAPTER 4: LUCIA
CHAPTER 5: FELIX
CHAPTER 6: AMARA
CHAPTER 7: JONAS
CHAPTER 8: MAGNUS
CHAPTER 9: JONAS
CHAPTER 10: FELIX
CHAPTER 11: CLEO
CHAPTER 12: MAGNUS
CHAPTER 13: JONAS
CHAPTER 14: LUCIA
CHAPTER 15: AMARA
CHAPTER 16: CLEO
CHAPTER 17: LUCIA
CHAPTER 18: JONAS
CHAPTER 19: FELIX
CHAPTER 20: MAGNUS
CHAPTER 21: CLEO
CHAPTER 22: AMARA
CHAPTER 23: JONAS
CHAPTER 24: FELIX
CHAPTER 25: LUCIA
CHAPTER 26: CLEO
CHAPTER 27: AMARA
CHAPTER 28: MAGNUS
CHAPTER 29: LUCIA
CHAPTER 30: CLEO
CHAPTER 31: MAGNUS
CHAPTER 32: LUCIA
CHAPTER 33: CLEO
CHAPTER 34: JONAS
Acknowledgments
CAST OF CHARACTERS
Limeros
MAGNUS LUKAS DAMORA
Prince
LUCIA EVA DAMORA
Princess and sorceress
GAIUS DAMORA
The king of Mytica
FELIX GRAEBAS
Assassin
GARETH CIRELLO
Grand kingsliege
KURTIS CIRELLO
Lord Gareth’s son
LORD FRANCUS
Royal council member
LORD LOGGIS
Royal council member
HIGH PRIEST DANUS
Royal council member
MILO IAGARIS
Palace guard
ENZO
Palace guard
Paelsia
JONAS AGALLON
Rebel leader
LYSANDRA BARBAS
Rebel
OLIVIA
Witch
LAELIA
Tavern dancer
Auranos
CLEIONA (CLEO) AURORA BELLOS
Princess of Auranos
NICOLO (NIC) CASSIAN
Cleo’s best friend
NERISSA FLORENS
Cleo’s attendant
GALYN
Tavern owner
BRUNO
Galyn’s father
Kraeshia
CYRUS CORTAS
Emperor
DASTAN
Prince—first born
ELAN
Prince—second born
ASHUR CORTAS
Prince—third born
AMARA CORTAS
Princess—fourth born
NEELA
Amara’s grandmother
MIKAH KASRO
Kraeshian guard
TARAN
Revolutionary
The Sanctuary
TIMOTHEUS
Elder Watcher
KYAN
Fire Kindred
PROLOGUE
35 Years Ago
The pitch-black monster reached toward the young boy with horrible, long-fingered hands, pressing him down into his bed, smothering him. It did this every night. And every night, the boy was terrified.
“No,” he whispered. “It’s not a monster, it’s just the darkness. It’s just the darkness!”
He wasn’t a baby anymore, afraid of the dark. He was nearly eight years old, and he swore to the goddess he wouldn’t cry out for his mother this time.
But this resolve lasted only a few more moments, until he couldn’t hold back his fear any longer. “Mother!” he called, and, as she always did, she came to him immediately and sat on the edge of his bed.
“My darling.” She gathered him into her arms and, clutching her tightly and feeling like a weak little fool, he let out a shuddery sob against her shoulder. “It’s all right. I’m here now.”
Light swelled as she lit the candle next to his bed. Though her beautiful face was cast in shadows, he could see anger in it, but he could tell it was not directed at him. “I’ve told them again and again to always have a candle burning in your room at night.”
“The breeze may have put it out,” he reasoned, not wanting to get any of his nursemaids in trouble.
“Perhaps.” She pressed her hand to his cheek. “Do you feel better now?”
Now with the light returned and his mother here he only felt foolish. “I’m sorry. I should have been braver.”
“Many fear the darkness, for very good reason,” she told him. “You’re not the only one who sees in it a horrible monster. But the only way to defeat the monster is . . . how?”
“By making friends with it.”
“That’s right.” She waved a hand at the lantern on the wall, lighting it with her fire magic. He watched her with awe, as he always did when she wielded elementia. She raised a brow at his reaction. “You don’t think I’m a monster, do you?”
“Of course not,” he said, shaking his head. His mother was a witch—a secret she’d shared only with him. She’d told him that some people were afraid of witches and thought them to be evil, but they were wrong. “Tell me the story again,” the boy said.
“Which one?”
“The one about the Kindred.” It was his favorite story, and it always helped him fall asleep on troubled nights.
“Very well.” She smiled as she took her son’s small hand in hers. “There were once four crystal orbs that were carefully guarded by the immortals. Each orb contained pure elemental magic—the magic that makes life itself possible. It was said that their magic could be seen swirling, endlessly, inside, and that you could feel their power when you held them in your hand. In the amber orb was fire magic. In the aquamarine, water. In the moonstone, air. And the darkest obsidian orb held earth magic. When the immortal goddesses Valoria and Cleiona fled their enemies in their world and came here to ours, they each brought with them two orbs that gave them incredible powers. Which ones did Valoria possess and protect, my darling?”
“Earth and Water.”
“And Cleiona?”
“Fire and Air.”
“Yes. But soon the goddesses were not satisfied to possess only half of the elementia each. Each wanted more, so she could rule the world without anyone else standing in her way.” Whenever his mother told these stories, she would get a dreamy, faraway look in her eyes. “Alas, this lust for power transformed these two immortals, who were once sisters, into the fiercest of enemies. They fought a great and terrible war against each other. In the end, neither was victorious. They were both destroyed and the crystals were lost. Ever since, magic has been fading in this world—and it will co
ntinue to fade until someone finds the crystals again and unlocks their magic.
“An ancient prophecy states that one day, a mortal child will be born with the power of a sorceress, who will be able to command all four elements with a strength unseen in a thousand years.” There was no way a witch like his mother could do that. She had some fire magic abilities, enough to light candles, and a little earth magic that helped heal his cuts and scrapes, but that was all. “This prophesized child will be the key to finding the Kindred—and unlocking the magic within them.” Her face had flushed with excitement. “Of course, many believe this is only a legend.”
“But you believe it’s real.”
“With all my heart and all my soul.” She squeezed his hand. “And I also believe that you will be the one to find this important, magical child, and that you will claim this treasure for yourself. I knew it from the very moment you were born.”
He felt very special whenever she told him this, but it was never long until doubt set in and that feeling fled.
As if sensing his uncertainty, she cupped his face in her hands and stared deeply into his eyes. “You will not always be afraid of the dark. One day you will be strong and brave, growing more and more so with each year to come. Darkness will not scare you. Nothing will scare you. And without fear holding you back, you’ll take your place upon the throne and achieve your destiny.”
“Like Father?”
Her expression shadowed. “No. You will be much stronger than he could ever hope to be.”
Her vision for him sounded so incredible that he wanted it to be true right now. “When will I change?”
She kissed his forehead. “The most important changes take time and patience. But I have faith in you—more than anyone else in the whole world. You are destined for greatness, Gaius Damora. And I swear—no matter what I must do to ensure it—that greatness will be yours.”
CHAPTER 1
MAGNUS
LIMEROS
All women are deceptive, dangerous creatures. Each a spider poisonous enough to kill with a single bite. Remember that.”
The advice Magnus’s father once gave him echoed in his memory as he stood on the Ravencrest docks and watched the Kraeshian ship disappear into the darkness. The King of Blood had never fully trusted a woman. Not his queen, not his former mistress and advisor, not even an immortal who whispered secrets to him in his dreams. Magnus usually ignored most of what his ruthless father said, but now he knew who was the most dangerous and deceptive of all.
Amara Cortas had stolen the Kindred, an aquamarine orb which contained the essence of water magic, leaving blood and destruction in her wake.
The driving snow bit into his skin, helping to numb the pain of his broken arm. Dawn was still hours off and the night was frigid enough to steal his life if he was careless.
Still, he found it impossible to do anything but stare out at the black waters and the stolen treasure that was supposed to be his.
“Now what?” Cleo’s voice finally interrupted his dark thoughts.
For a moment, he’d forgotten that he wasn’t alone.
“Now what, princess?” he hissed, frozen clouds forming before his mouth with each word he spoke. “Well, I suppose we should enjoy the short time we have left before my father’s men arrive to execute us on sight.”
The penalty for treason was death, even for the heir to the throne. And he had, most certainly, committed treason when he helped the princess currently standing behind him escape execution.
Next it was Nic’s voice that sliced through the cold night. “I have a suggestion, your highness,” he said. “If you’re finished inspecting the water for clues, why don’t you jump in and swim after that murderous bitch’s ship?”
As usual, Cleo’s favorite minion spoke to Magnus with unvarnished contempt. “If I thought I could catch her, I would,” he replied with matching venom.
“We’ll get the water Kindred back,” Cleo said. “And Amara will pay for what she’s done.”
“I’m not sure I share your confidence,” Magnus said. Finally, he glanced at her over his shoulder: Princess Cleiona Bellos, her familiar beauty lit only by the moon and a few lanterns set along the docks.
He had yet to think of her as a Damora. She had once asked to keep her family name, as she was the last in her line, and he’d agreed. The king had chastised him for allowing her, a princess forced into an arranged marriage to help make the conquering royals more palatable to the conquered kingdom and hopefully stifle an immediate rebellion amongst the Auranian people, any liberties at all.
Despite the fur-lined cloak that she’d pulled over her head to shield her long golden hair from the snow, Cleo shivered. Her face was pale and she wrapped her arms tightly around herself.
She hadn’t complained about the cold, not once on their swift journey from the Temple of Valoria to the city. They’d barely exchanged a single word until now.
Then again, far too many words had been exchanged between them the previous night, before chaos had descended.
“Give me one good reason why you wouldn’t let Cronus kill me,” she’d demanded when she’d finally cornered him, alone, at Lady Sophia’s villa.
And instead of continuing to ignore or deny what he’d done—slaying the guard who’d been given the king’s command to end the imprisoned princess’s life—he’d given her an answer, the words tearing painfully from his throat as if he had no control over them.
“You are the only light I can see anymore,” he’d whispered. “And, whatever the cost, I refuse to let that light be extinguished.”
Magnus knew he’d given Cleo far too much power over him in that moment. He felt that weakness now—compounded by everything that had happened the night before, beginning with the earth-shattering kiss that had followed his foolish confession of her growing importance to him.
Thankfully that kiss had been interrupted before he’d lost himself completely.
“Magnus? Are you all right?” Cleo touched his arm, but he stiffened and pulled away from her, as if he’d been burned. Confusion fought with concern in her blue-green eyes.
“I’m fine,” he said.
“But your arm—”
“I’m fine,” he repeated, more firmly.
She pressed her lips together, her gaze hardening. “Good.”
“We need a plan,” Nic snapped. “And we need one now before we freeze to death out here.”
His tone tore Magnus’s attention away from the princess and straight to the red-headed, freckle-faced boy who’d always seemed weak and useless . . . at least until tonight.
“You want a plan?” Magnus growled. “Here’s my plan. Take your precious princess and leave. Board a ship for Auranos. Hike down to Paelsia. I don’t care. I’ll tell my father you’re both dead. The only way you’ll remain alive and well is if you go into exile.”
Nic’s eyes flashed with surprise, as if this were the last thing he’d expected Magnus to say. “You mean it? We can go?”
“Yes, go.” It was the best decision for everyone. Cleo had become a dangerous distraction, and Nic was at best an annoyance and at worst a threat. “That is an order.”
He looked up at Cleo, expecting to see relief in the princess’s eyes.
Instead, all he saw was outrage.
“An order, is it?” she hissed. “I’m sure it would make things much easier for you if we weren’t around, yes? Much easier to find your sorceress sister and get your hands on the remaining crystals.”
The reminder of Lucia, who had eloped to Limeros with Alexius, her Watcher tutor, was an unexpected blow. There had been blood on the floor when they’d arrived at the temple—and it could have very well been Lucia’s.
She has to be alive. He refused to think any other way. She was alive, and when he found her he was going to kill Alexius.
“Think whatever you like, princess,” he said, returning to the more immediate issue. Of course he wanted the Kindred for himself. Did she expect he’d want t
o share it with the girl who, since nearly the moment they met, has been waiting for any opportunity to reclaim her throne? The Kindred would give her the power to claim not just Auranos, but any other throne she wanted.
He needed that power in his hands—no one else’s—and then finally he would have absolute control over his life and his future with no one to fear and no one to answer to.
Not even whatever it was that had happened between them earlier could change that. They were two people on opposite sides who both wanted the same thing, but only one could succeed. He wouldn’t give up everything he’d ever wanted—not for anyone.
A flush of color had returned to the princess’s cheeks, and her eyes flashed with frustration. “I’m not going anywhere. You and I will go to the palace together. And we will search for Lucia together. And when your father comes for us, we will face his wrath together.”
He glared down at the angry princess. She stared back up at him, without intimidation. Her shoulders back, her chin up, she was a burning torch in the middle of the cold, endless night.
How he wished he was strong enough to hate her.
“Very well,” he said through clenched teeth. “But remember, this decision was yours alone.”
• • •
The carriage reached the Limerian palace grounds and passed through the guarded checkpoint shortly after the sun had risen. Perched on the edge of a cliff overlooking the Silver Sea, the black castle was in stark contrast to its pristinely white surroundings. Its obsidian towers rose up into the morning sky like the claws of a dark and powerful god.
Many found this to be an intimidating sight, but to Magnus, it was home. An odd flutter of nostalgia rushed through him; memories of simpler times, of riding and swordsmanship classes with the sons of local nobles. Of roaming the grounds with Lucia at his side, a book always in her hands. Of the queen, venturing outside wrapped in furs to welcome important guests arriving for a banquet. Of his father returning with the fruits of a successful hunt, greeting his young son with a rare smile.