Frozen Tides

  Felix didn’t know much about the crystal, but he knew enough to be sure that it didn’t belong with an emperor who would use it to conquer the world.

  Amara draped her long dark hair over her shoulder, absently twirling a tendril of it around her finger, as if lost in thought. “Is it true that King Gaius is in possession of all four Kindred?”

  “He says he is, so he must be,” Felix lied. “But I’ve only seen the moonstone.”

  “I wish the king had offered it to me.” Amara smiled conspiratorially. “Then perhaps you and I could rule the world together.”

  “You and me, huh?”

  “Can’t you imagine how incredible that would be?”

  “Look, princess, you don’t have to say these kinds of things to me. You don’t have to make me any promises. I’m perfectly happy with our arrangement, just as it is, for as long as you need me. However, with respect, my days belong to the king.”

  Without giving her the chance to change his mind, he left her room. Once outside the door, he leaned against the hallway wall, letting out a heavy sigh.

  “Is that a sigh of sadness or relief?”

  Felix looked up to see Mikah, a palace guard he’d met upon his arrival.

  “Look at you, just lingering out here in the hallway,” Felix said with displeasure. “You weren’t listening in, were you?”

  Mikah cocked his head. “Why? If I were, would I have heard anything other than sighs and heavy breathing? I’m quite accustomed to the princess’s casual dalliances.”

  “Happy to hear the two of you are so close,” Felix said with narrowed eyes as he started to walk away. “Now, if you’ll excuse me—” Mikah grabbed Felix’s arm, his grip tight enough to hurt. “Let go of me,” Felix growled.

  Mikah didn’t smile, didn’t flinch. “Tell me,” he said, “have you fallen in love with her yet?”

  Felix blinked. “What?”

  “Answer the question.”

  “Ah, I get it. You’re a former dalliance, are you? A jealous one? Don’t worry, there’s nothing permanent between us. I’ll be moving along soon so you can continue to moon over her. Now let go of me, or we’re going to have a problem.”

  Mikah studied him intently for another long moment, then released him roughly. “Good. Wouldn’t want to see you get hurt.”

  “I can take care of myself, but much gratitude for your concern.”

  • • •

  “The king wants you to go check on the ship,” Milo told Felix later that day. “Ensure it’s suitable for departure at a moment’s notice.”

  “And he sent you to give me the order?” Felix eyed the other guard skeptically.

  Milo shrugged. “Just passing along information. The king is busy.”

  “His majesty wants a swift escape, does he?” he said aloud.

  Milo nodded, his expression pinched. “The swifter the better, it would seem.”

  The two hadn’t discussed the king’s offer—or, rather, ultimatum—to the emperor, but they’d most certainly exchanged worried glances during the banquet. After all, they were the ones responsible for saving the king’s neck, even when he’d willingly bared it to a known enemy’s blade.

  Felix lowered his voice. “Does King Gaius really think the emperor will simply let us sail away without consequence?”

  A muscle in Milo’s left cheek twitched. “I’m not aware of the king’s thoughts. . . .”

  “Nor am I.”

  “But if I were . . .” Milo continued, his expression as grim as Felix had seen it since their first meeting, when they set sail from Auranos, “I would start to prepare for a very hasty departure.”

  What would the king expect his bodyguards to do if the emperor chose to answer with wrath rather than agreement?

  Assassinate the most powerful leader in the known world in his very home and expect to walk away unscathed?

  Finally, he nodded with a firm jerk of his head. “I’ll check on the ship immediately.”

  • • •

  It seemed that Felix had fooled himself into smelling nothing but roses upon gaining the king’s favor once again, but this was, truly, the deepest and foulest pile of dung he’d ever waded into.

  As he walked along the main dock under the intense heat of the mid-day sun after checking on the Limerian ship, an image slid through his mind. Jonas, pinned to the floor by the dagger. The rebel had stared up at him, pain and accusation in his eyes, as Felix pocketed the air Kindred.

  “Yeah, well, he deserved it,” he mumbled to himself.

  Had he? Had Jonas really deserved to be so abused by someone he’d previously trusted? Jonas, who had done nothing but continue to try to do what was right and good, despite failure after failure?

  Perhaps they could have made peace if Felix hadn’t been such an impatient, rage-filled arse who solved all of his problems with his fists.

  He’d been with the Clan for eight years. Eight years as an assassin before he tried to choose a different path.

  He’d been nothing more than an innocent kid when he was first recruited. An innocent kid chosen and plucked up by the king, who gave him no choice but to become a murderer.

  He stopped at the storage house at the far end of the dock and smashed his fist into the glittering stonework. He’d always found that physical pain helped clear his head and chase away ugly memories.

  Bad things happened when he thought too deeply about the past.

  “Stop this,” he gritted out. “Life is good. The future is bright. And I’m going to—”

  Felix lurched back as someone grabbed his arm and shoved him backward. He hit the wall of the storage house hard, his vision swimming.

  He blinked back his focus just in time to see a fist heading directly for his jaw. He caught it, thrusting forward so the blow landed across his assailant’s face instead.

  “Don’t try me today,” Felix growled. “I’m not in a forgiving mood.”

  “Funny. Neither am I,” Felix’s attacker said, rubbing his jaw and grinning. The young man had bronze shoulder-length hair that was tied at the nape of his neck. “Impressive maneuver. Did your Cobra friends teach you that?”

  So this attacker knew exactly who he was. That wasn’t good.

  He eyed their surroundings to find that the large building shielded them from the view of the people on the busy docks. Only the scent of salty water-weed and the squawk of seabirds populated this isolated patch of the shoreline.

  “As a matter of fact, they did. And this, too.” He swung his fist, but the assailant ducked, then punched Felix in the gut. He doubled over, giving his attacker ripe opportunity to bring his arm up in an uppercut, hitting Felix right under his jaw. Felix wheezed out a breath and dropped to the ground like a bag of hammers.

  “That felt quite good,” the long-haired young man said. “I’ve been itching for a fight for some time.”

  As he sat, gasping for breath, on the ground, Felix heard someone else approaching from the far side of the storage building. “That’s enough for today,” said a voice that Felix recognized.

  Felix looked up to see Mikah, standing next to the brute and looking calm as ever. “Following me, are you?” Felix said. “I’d take it as a compliment, but you’re not really my type.”

  “On your feet,” Mikah commanded.

  “I don’t take orders from you.”

  “Fine, then sit there. I don’t care. This won’t take long anyway.”

  “Are you here to kill me? Or try to?”

  Mikah leaned over until he was eye level with Felix. “You have a death wish—I can see it in your eyes. I’m sorry to say I won’t help you with that today.”

  “Oh, my. You can read minds, too?” Felix pushed himself to his feet. Surely these two figured his new injuries made him an easy target. But that was exactly what he wanted them to think. It was all part of the game he’d learned from the Clan: Keep the target guessing; let them get in a couple of hits and, just when they think they’ve won, go in for the kill.
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  Felix knew he could take on this pair if he had to. But first he needed to know what they wanted with him.

  “Are you here to harass me about Princess Amara again?” Felix rolled his eyes. “Jealousy really doesn’t suit you, friend.”

  “This has nothing to do with the princess.”

  “Good. You’d hate to have me as a romantic rival. Now tell me what you want.”

  “I don’t like this one,” the long-haired young man said, his arms crossed over his broad chest.

  “You don’t have to,” Mikah replied.

  “You trust him?”

  “Of course not. He’s a Limerian.”

  “You do know I’m still standing right here?” Felix reminded them. “And I can hear you loud and clear. Now, I’ll ask you one more time: What does a Kraeshian guard and his little minion want with me, a common thug working for the king of Mytica?”

  Mikah regarded him skeptically for a long moment, while his friend stood by holding eager fists at his sides. “I wear this uniform, but I’m not really a guard. And though you’re dressed in finery that hides the mark of the Cobra I know you have on your arm, I don’t believe for one moment that you’re a servant to the king or a common thug.” A sly smile spread across Mikah’s face, which only piqued Felix’s curiosity more. Mikah went on. “I’m here, in this uniform, because I’m a revolutionary. I’ve earned this position at the palace to gain information about the royal family.” He nodded at his friend. “This is Taran. He’s not originally from Kraeshia, but he’s joined our worthy fight to rid the empire of the Cortas regime.”

  This, he didn’t expect. It seemed he couldn’t wash his hair of all the rebels all over the world. “Well. That . . . sounds like a rather lofty goal. I wish you the best of luck. But what does it have to do with me?”

  “We want your help.”

  Felix had to laugh. “And why would I help you?”

  Taran stepped forward, his posture softer now, but his brown eyes still full of anger. “If you only saw the truth here in Kraeshia. If you knew what the emperor does to anything and anyone that doesn’t meet his standards . . . you wouldn’t hesitate to join us.” Taran’s expression darkened. “The man is a monster. He sends his armies off to invade and conquer every chartered land out there, picking and choosing at random what he wants to keep, and then discarding and destroying the rest—and, yes, that includes citizens as well as property and possessions.”

  “Yours is a country constantly at war. People die in wars,” Felix reasoned. “Often people who don’t deserve to.”

  Mikah shook his head. “This is not an ideology I’ll ever accept. Brute force—relentless greed—is not right, and I’ll do anything I can to stop it.”

  “So it’s just the two of you, huh? And you’re looking for new recruits?”

  Mikah smirked. “There are thousands of us, all organized in factions and stationed across the empire, readying ourselves to rise up and fight.”

  “Thousands of you.” Felix raised his brow. “Well, that does sound more intimidating than the duo standing before me. Still, yours is only a small army compared to what the emperor has to protect him.”

  “That’s why we want your help.”

  Felix snorted.

  “I heard what you said to the princess this morning. I was listening in on you.”

  “I knew you were a pervert.”

  “Shut up and listen to me. Princess Amara mentioned the Kindred—that your king has access to one. That their powers are real. If all of that is true, then we need to get that crystal from the king.”

  Felix nearly laughed. “Oh, is that all? Then you should ask the king for it. I’m sure he’d be happy to help you out.”

  Without warning, Taran smashed his fist into Felix’s face.

  Swearing, Felix clamped his hand down over his nose, which was gushing blood. “You broke it. Congratulations. You’ve just given me my sixth broken nose, and now I’m going to kill you.”

  “Try it. I dare you.” Taran pulled back his cloak to reveal the gleaming blade of a dagger. “Or instead, you could shut your mouth and take us seriously. Because we are very serious.”

  “Apologies, Felix,” Mikah said, glaring at Taran. “My friend here is a bit of a . . . free spirit. Probably due to his Auranian heritage.”

  Auranian? Felix knew there was a reason he’d taken an immediate dislike to Taran. “So you’re the leader of this revolution, are you, Mikah?”

  “Here in the Jewel, yes. I’ve been at the palace for ten years preparing for this revolution, following in my father’s footsteps.”

  “Ten years?”

  Mikah nodded. “Our battle will be a long one, and it has taken us two generations to prepare. But we will fight to end the emperor’s rule and free our people from his cruelty and greed, no matter how long it takes.”

  It certainly sounded like a worthy fight. Most definitely doomed, but worthy.

  “You’re going to fail, and you’re all going to die,” Felix said. “You must know that, right?”

  He was expecting Taran to attempt another strike, but instead the two revolutionaries only looked at him solemnly. “Perhaps,” Mikah said.

  “So why go through with it?”

  “Because if you don’t choose to fight against the wrong in the world, then you are the wrong in the world.”

  This guy had devoted his entire life to this rebellion, and it hadn’t even begun yet. A rebellion Mikah knew they’d probably lose.

  But he wanted to try anyway.

  That sick, twisting slice of darkness that had stayed inside of Felix ever since he’d left Jonas and Lysandra and aligned with the King of Blood now grew tighter and darker within him. How could he be a rebel? He was nothing but a killer.

  Before today, Felix hadn’t believed he had any real choice about that.

  “I might have an idea that could help,” Felix finally said.

  Mikah eyed him. “What is it?”

  “I’m going to need to send a message to Prince Magnus Damora.”

  “What? The King of Blood’s little heir?” Taran spat out, eyeing Felix with both disgust and wariness, as if to question his sanity.

  “Yup. The same little heir who’s rumored to have killed a palace guard in order to rescue an enemy of his father. And now, in King Gaius’s absence, he has has taken over the throne in Limeros.”

  “Rumors aren’t facts,” Taran scoffed.

  “No. But, apologies, they’re still about a thousand times more potentially useful to your revolution than anything you’ve told me today.”

  Mikah studied him, his brow furrowed in thought. “If these rumors do prove true, it sounds as if Prince Magnus might be staging a rebellion of his own.”

  “I’m sure it’s more complicated than that. But if father and son are currently at odds, the prince will want to know the king’s plans—including that the king now has a shiny Kindred in his possession—and he could possibly become an ally.”

  “Possibly,” Taran repeated. “But not definitely. That doesn’t sound like much of a plan to me. In fact, it sounds outright reckless.”

  “It would be a risk, sure. But I’m the one putting my neck on the line.”

  “Why would you do this?” Mikah asked, his tone thick with suspicion. “Why would you help us? Just a moment ago you were threatening to kill us.”

  “Hey, you came to me for help, remember? Help you wanted so bad I now have a broken nose to show for it. And you’re complaining that I’m willing to give that help to you?”

  “That doesn’t answer my question. Tell me why you’ve changed your mind.”

  Felix went silent for a moment as he sorted through his jumbled thoughts. “Perhaps I’ve finally chosen once and for all to fight for the right things.” He absently scratched his arm. His clan tattoo had started to itch, as if to protest his decision.

  Mikah grinned. “Welcome to the revolution, Felix.”

  “Happy to be here.”

  Taran’s e
xpression remained rigid, his eyes narrowing on Felix.

  “You’re still officially with the Clan of the Cobra,” Taran said. “Mikah here might believe you when you say your loyalties have shifted, but how would you convince someone like the prince?”

  Now, that was an excellent question. What could he possibly write in that message, sent from his current station as the king’s bodyguard, that might gain the prince’s trust?

  Felix scratched his itch again, then pulled up his sleeve to look down at his snake tattoo. The physical evidence of his oath to the Clan and to the King of Blood, etched into his very skin.

  “I think I know a way,” he said.

  CHAPTER 20

  MAGNUS

  LIMEROS

  The princess wore blue.

  The princess always wore blue.

  Magnus leaned against a palace wall, watching Cleo and Lord Kurtis as they began her archery lesson for the day. It was the first time he’d gone out to watch her practice, but after Nic and all of Cleo’s little rebel friends vanished from the palace in the dead of night without permission—allegedly to buy a gift for the princess in celebration of her seventeenth birthday—he’d decided to keep a closer eye on the deceitful princess.

  His fury at learning that his new “allies” had disappeared with all of the information he’d revealed to them had since calmed into a seething, but controllable anger. The princess had not accompanied them. If she had, he would be scouring the land for all of them and would show no mercy when they were found.

  Nic, he knew, would return. He would never abandon his precious princess so easily.

  And, so, Magnus waited.

  Since then, he’d grown much more curious about Cleo and her progress with a bow and arrow.

  She wore a cloak of robin’s-egg blue, which she’d purchased in Ravencrest a few days ago. She’d taken Nerissa with her, and after a day of shopping, they’d stopped in at Lady Sophia’s villa.