But if he really did regret it, then that hope, that belief in his good heart . . . all of it was erased.
A stormy mixture of anger and pain swirled within her. “How dare you say that to me!”
He rubbed his forehead and let out a humorless laugh. “Don’t you see? When it comes to you, I only make foolish decisions that put everyone and everything around me in danger. I can’t believe I’ve been too stupid to see that until now. If I’d been strong enough to let you die that day, none of this would be happening. What is wrong with me? Why would I choose to protect a liar and traitor who tries to destroy me at every turn?”
Her throat had tightened, but so had her fists. “Whether you hate me or not, it changes nothing. You believe me to be a worthless liar who’d be better off dead? Fine. But don’t waste my time crying about your decisions now. Amara is on her way here, and she will kill anyone that gets in the way of her claiming every piece of the Kindred.”
“Every piece. Perhaps you have the others hidden away somewhere, too. For all I know, you’ve conspired with Amara as well.”
“You won’t believe me, no matter what I say. Clearly there’s nothing I can do or say that will change your opinion of me.”
“You want everything, take all that you can get, but you give nothing back in return,” Magnus snarled through clenched teeth. “Leave me.”
Cleo shook her head. “But the king . . . Amara . . .”
Magnus moved toward her, a menacing look on his face, forcing her to back up until she found herself on the other side of the throne room doors.
“I will deal with the king and the princess when they arrive. If doing so means that I die, then it’s a death I’ve earned through my actions concerning you. If I never see you again, it will be too soon.”
With that, he slammed the doors shut between them.
CHAPTER 27
AMARA
THE SILVER SEA
It was the familiar line of a jaw that caught her eye. A swath of dark hair. The shape of his shoulders.
Ashur?
Amara’s heart lifted with happiness, but then immediately closed with dread.
This can’t be possible.
She followed the young man across the deck of the ship, turning a corner and heading toward the bow. Finally, she managed to catch his arm.
“Ash—” she started, but the name fell away as the boy turned around. It was Milo, looking down at her with surprise.
“Your highness, is there something you need?”
She frowned, glancing frantically to her left and right, but there was no one else around.
“No, nothing,” she said, then signaled for Milo to be on his way.
She went below deck to the room she shared with the king, and was relieved to find it vacant.
She looked out the porthole and saw nothing but sea—endless expanses of brilliant blue.
She sighed, anxious to get to Mytica. She needed to know just how dishonest the king was being when he claimed to possess all of the Kindred. At the very least she knew he was bluffing about the water orb, which was wrapped in a silk scarf and safely hidden amongst her clothing.
The only thing she knew was that, with or without Gaius’s help, she would soon possess them all.
She would learn the secret to unlocking their magic, and she would ascend from empress to goddess.
“Everything is going perfectly,” she reminded herself.
“Is that so?” A familiar voice rang out from the far corner of her quarters, drawing her gaze.
She drew in a sharp breath. “Ashur.”
Standing in the shadows, smiling at her, was the brother she’d killed only weeks ago. “Greetings, sister.”
Amara squeezed her eyes shut, certain she was imagining him.
Summoning her courage, she stood up and moved toward him. She reached out for him, and he disappeared. She flattened her hands against the wall where he’d stood, letting a cruel combination of disappointment and relief wash over her.
But when she turned around, there he was again, sitting in a chair by the bed, regarding her with amusement. “Oh Amara, don’t tell me you’ve missed me.”
“What is this? A vengeful spirit come to make pleasant conversation?”
“Is that what you think I am? And here I thought you believed in reincarnation, like all good Kraeshians.”
“If you’re not a demon, then you’re only my imagination, which means I can make you go away and leave me alone.”
“You’ve killed us all, you wicked, wicked girl,” he snarled, but still smiled that familiar, warm grin of his. “You took us all by surprise with your ruthlessness. Was it worth it? Now you have no one to share your secrets with.”
“I have Grandmother.”
“Ah, yes, a bitter old woman as ancient as the hills. She won’t be a companion to you for much longer.”
The thought of losing Neela was far too painful to contemplate, so Amara shook it out of her head and balled her hands into fists. “I didn’t want to kill you. But you shouldn’t have deceived me.”
“Is that what you think I did?”
“There was a time when you and I were inseparable,” Amara went on. “The best of friends. Then you wanted to go off and explore faraway lands, chase treasures, and you left me behind all by myself.”
His silvery-blue eyes flashed with sadness and anger. “Don’t you dare blame me for your choices.”
“You chose to stand with strangers rather than with your own sister!”
“And I suppose I learned my lesson. Anyone who stands with you, Amara, should know better than to ever turn their back. You’ve done unforgiveable things, all in the empty pursuit of power.”
She turned toward the mirror, anything to not have to face him anymore, and began to vigorously brush her hair. “When men do the same,” she huffed, “they’re held up as champions.”
“Do you fancy yourself a champion, Sister?”
This snide little ghost was not Amara’s brother, was only a manifestation of her guilt. She knew she’d done only what she had to do, nothing more. “I will bring about change in this world that will benefit millions,” she said to her own reflection.
“There are many ways to do that, Sister, But you chose murder. It seems as though you’re more like our father than you’d ever want to admit.”
When she turned to face him again, he was gone.
• • •
Amara took time to compose herself in her cabin, and when she went back up to the deck she saw that the ship was approaching the frozen shores of Limeros. Cuddling deeper into the thick fur wrap around her shoulders, she felt that the air seemed even colder than it was the last time she’d been here.
She gazed out at the snow-dusted city. This was where Felix had grown up. Her thoughts had drifted to him many times during this journey—to the ache she’d felt over casting him aside, making him take the blame for her crime.
Just as a stab of guilt begin to gnaw at her, King Gaius approached to her left and stood at the gunwale next to her, holding a piece of parchment.
She straightened her posture and went to his side.
“You look troubled,” she said.
King Gaius looked up at her, surprised, as if he’d just woken from a dream. “I will admit I am a bit troubled.” He indicated the parchment in his hand. “Just before we left the Jewel, I received this message. It’s from an informant at the Limerian palace. I’ve read it many times, but still find its contents difficult to believe.”
“Is it about Magnus? Is the prince enjoying his moment in the sun?”
“Apparently a little too much. If I’m to believe what’s written here, it seems he has met with rebels on several occasions.”
She placed her hand over his. “I’m very sorry to hear that. But I have to say, if it is true, it doesn’t surprise me at all. Your son has already committed treason against you once.”
“He claims good reasons for doing so.”
“Is t
here ever a good reason to commit treason?”
“You tell me, Empress. Why was it that you poisoned your entire family?”
She’d almost forgotten how sensitive Myticans could be. If she wanted to turn Gaius’s head without him realizing it, she had to remember to use a gentler hand to guide him. “I understand that you’d like to think the best of him,” she said sweetly. “After all, he’s your heir. But more than once he’s made a public display of opposing you, of standing against everything you do. He needs to pay for his crimes.”
“Are you suggesting that I have my only son executed?”
A sharpness sprang into the king’s dark eyes, a warning that her hand had not been nearly gentle enough. “No, of course not. There’s no easy answer here. I’m not suggesting there is. But what I care about most is you. Us. Our future. And if Magnus meets our arrival with force, my guards will not hesitate to fight back. I want a peaceful transition as much as you do, but if the Limerian palace rises up, blood will be spilled.”
“Peaceful,” he repeated, then gave her a dour smile. “There are many words your name brings to mind, Amara, but ‘peaceful’ isn’t one of them.”
“Why not?” she said, indignant. “Why would I want to damage the newest jewel in Kraeshia’s crown?”
“Why did you call for twenty ships to follow us, to dock at every Mytican port—to ensure we’re met with no resistance?”
“Because I’m careful, that’s why. Besides, you already agreed to this.”
He sighed. “Yes, I did. I know we need to account for and control insurgents.”
The tension in Amara’s neck dissipated, and she finally allowed herself to relax. “Perhaps your homecoming will make Magnus see that all of this is for the best. That being a part of Kraeshia can only make Mytica stronger.”
“I used to have no doubt that my son would come around, that we would see eye to eye again, that he would one day take on his responsibilities as my heir with honor and pride. But one persistent problem has trampled that belief.” Gaius paused, narrowing his eyes at the Limerian shore. “Cleiona Bellos. From the moment that scheming little creature came into our lives, it seems there’s been an impassable rift between my son and me. I raised him to be great, but she has managed to corrupt him. I was blind not to see it before, but I’m not anymore. He loves her.” His knuckles whitened on the railing.
“He may love her, but does she love him?” she reasoned. “After all that’s happened to her former kingdom, how could she ever see him as anything but her enemy?”
“It doesn’t matter whether or not she loves him in return. Unrequited love is still love.” He shook his head. “As I grow older, I’m beginning to understand my mother’s choices more and more. I don’t forgive them, but I understand. My son doesn’t realize how very much he is like me.”
Now Amara’s curiosity was sharply piqued. “In what ways?” she asked.
He didn’t reply.
She frowned, still hoping to coax more information out of him. “Do you mean to say that . . . you once loved someone in the way you believe Magnus loves Cleo?”
The king mouth had fallen to a grim line. “Never mind. It was a very long time ago. Meaningless now.”
“Was it . . . are you thinking of Althea?” Amara had never met the former queen, but she’d seen her stern portrait in the hallways of the Limerian palace.
“No. Not Althea.” Gaius stared down again at the parchment. Just when Amara thought he was done opening up for the day, he started speaking again, an almost pitifully wistful tone in his voice. “When I was a young man, even younger than Magnus, I took a trip overseas. I met a girl. A beautiful, challenging, frustrating girl. We sparred, we argued, we discussed every topic imaginable, and she quickly became my entire world. I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her, I was sure of it. But my mother had other plans for me—plans that didn’t take into account my utter devotion to another. ‘Love is weakness,’ she told me. ‘And it must be destroyed, or else deceptive, dangerous creatures will exploit that weakness for their own gain.’”
“What happened?” Amara asked, drawing closer to Gaius to make him feel comforted.
“My mother intervened. She poisoned this love with words and threats and a darkness I didn’t even know she possessed, and soon the girl’s love for me turned into hatred. Eventually she married someone else and had beautiful children.”
And in turn, Amara though, you became the very monster she believed you to be. “And where is she now?” she said aloud. “Do you know?”
His jaw grew tight. “She’s dead,” he gritted out.
“I’m sorry,” she said, still in silent disbelief that this story of love and loss and pain had just been uttered by the King of Blood himself.
“I’m not,” he said, his eyes growing cold again. “My mother was right about love. Without her meddling, I would not be the king I am today. And now I know exactly what needs to be done when it comes to ensuring my son’s destiny. I will remove the temptation from him, permanently, just as my mother did for me.”
He tore the message into pieces and cast it into the sea.
CHAPTER 28
MAGNUS
LIMEROS
Magnus lay awake the entire night, prepared to meet the king’s ship the moment he heard the guards’ call. But when the sun began to rise and there was still no sign of the Kraeshians, Magnus grew frustrated, cursing Jonas Agallon for needlessly agitating him.
He left his chambers and walked through the palace, grateful at least to be stretching his legs. Everything appeared to be as normal as on any other day. But of course it did. Other than the few overnight guards he’d ordered to keep watch for any approaching ships, Cleo was the only one who knew what lay on the horizon.
His father’s return. Amara’s occupation.
The end of Mytica—and life—as he knew it.
He exited the palace, bracing himself for the icy chill that had recently reigned in Limeros. But, as he entered the ice gardens, there were none of the harsh, painfully cold winds that usually sliced across his face. He looked up to see that the skies were cloudy but bright today, and a few snowflakes had started to fall.
He tilted his head back and closed his eyes, feeling the familiar sensation of soft white flakes melting on his skin.
He slowly walked through the gardens, alone, allowing himself to enjoy the sights and sounds of his home, for once not moving as quickly as possible from one point to another.
He would miss mornings like this.
At the edge of the cliffs, with the black palace rising up to his left, Magnus scanned the Silver Sea, searching for signs of the Kraeshian armada. Resistance would lead only to more death and pain than his citizens already had in store. Magnus stood no chance against Amara’s forces, and the king knew it.
It would finally be time for him to answer for his crime of treason, and he would soon understand fully why his father was known as the King of Blood. Magnus didn’t expect any mercy.
And he swore to himself that he wouldn’t beg for it.
During his sleepless night, Magnus had given a great deal of thought to the messages he’d received from Kraeshia. Something about his current situation felt desperately wrong, had left him with a sour taste in his mouth that he couldn’t get rid of.
Both of the messages had been written by and sent from rebels—rebels who knew one another, had worked together in the past.
Felix Graebas had sent along a swatch of his own skin to prove he’d shifted loyalties from the Clan to the rebels. But why should Magnus believe that it really was his tattoo, his skin? And what kind of coincidence was it that Felix had sent his message just as his compatriot Jonas arrived at the palace?
And then there was the message from Jonas that arrived last night, warning of imminent danger, striking dark fear into Magnus’s heart.
A stark realization stole his breath.
Even now Cleo was working against him, with both Felix and Jonas.
 
; Despite all her pretty words, all her pleas for him to believe her—pleas he’d started to believe—Cleo still thought of him as her enemy, an obstacle she needed to eliminate.
Of course. King Gaius would never be so stupid as to align with someone like Amara. The king knew what a deceptive creature she could be, that she was a sly manipulator, almost as skilled as Cleiona Bellos herself.
The sick feeling that had settled in his stomach lurched once more as he stumbled over a possibility he’d tossed aside the night before: that Cleo might be aligned with Amara.
They could have been working together from the very beginning, from the second Amara first set foot on Mytican soil.
Head spinning and in a daze, Magnus made his way to the Ouroboros. The familiar owner raised his bushy eyebrows high as Magnus pushed through the door.
“Food,” Magnus barked. “And a bottle of Paelsian wine. Now.”
“Yes, your highness,” he said, this time making no efforts to deny that he had alcohol on hand.
Magnus violently tucked into the eggs, fried kaana cakes, and fig preserves that the man brought him, and made a toast to Cleo with the bottle of wine. “Well played, princess,” he growled.
He drained the first bottle and then a second before he decided it was time to leave. On his way out, he stopped and clutched the barkeep’s shoulder. “When I’m officially king, wine will flow readily in Limeros again. Wine for everyone!”
Cowering, the barkeep gave him a small smile, and then Magnus left without waiting for a reply.
Though he walked a swerving line, Magnus managed to make it back to the palace without too much delay. It wasn’t until he had the nearest gate in sight that he realized he hadn’t taken any guards with him when he’d left the palace grounds.
“Don’t need them,” he grumbled. “Anyone who dares to cross the Prince of Blood will regret it.”
As he neared the palace gates, he spotted Lord Kurtis, conversing with a man in a black cloak. Kurtis glanced at him, and in response Magnus laughed and made a rude gesture, then carried on right past him.
Stupid arse. To think, Magnus’s childhood memories had caused him to consider Kurtis a true threat all this time.