The dream figure came to crouch in front of him. “This is what you get for trying to be one of the good guys, you arse,” he said.
“Apparently so.”
“Any regrets?”
“A million or two.” Felix blinked up at him. “Is it . . . is it really you?”
Jonas nodded. “It’s really me.”
Felix shook his head, still too afraid to believe this could be real. He felt something hot and wet on his cheeks. Tears. “How?”
“You’re not going to believe me, but you have Prince Magnus to thank for this. He and I are allies now. Sort of. He got your message, then sent me here to kill his father.”
“Now I know I’m dreaming. You’d never stoop so low as to help the prince.”
“A lot has changed since we saw each other last.” Jonas held out a small key and fiddled with the cuffs, finally easing them off Felix’s bloody wrists. “You think you can stand?”
“I can try.”
Jonas helped him to his feet, and Felix saw the shock on his face as he took in the sight of his missing eye. He swore. “You’ve been through hell.”
It hurt too much to laugh, but that was an understatement if ever Felix had heard one. “Yeah, to the darklands and back again. How did you find me here? Mikah’s revolutionaries planned to break some of their people out of here today?”
“Not exactly. They were sure you were already dead, but—I don’t know. I had this feeling you weren’t.”
“And this feeling was so strong that you risked busting into a Kraeshian prison to see if you were right?”
“Looks like it worked.”
“You came here to help me.” Felix stared at Jonas, and the tears began to fall again. “Damn it.”
“If that’s your way of saying thank you. . . .”
Another short, painful gasp of a laugh lurched out of Felix. “I should be begging for your forgiveness right about now.”
“No, I should be begging for yours,” Jonas said. “I’m sorry, Felix. I’m sorry I doubted you.”
Felix drew in a ragged breath. “Let’s put it in the past where dark things belong. Right now, I need an enormous favor.”
“Anything.”
“Get me the hell out of here.”
The rebel grinned. “That I can do.”
Jonas quickly explained that the dungeon was in shambles and the Kraeshian revolutionaries were working their way through it, freeing prisoners and killing any guard who tried to stop them. Felix just stared at his friend, his words a comforting buzz in his ears as Jonas helped him to his feet, his body screaming in pain with every movement.
Jonas helped Felix through the cell door. As they gingerly traversed the hallway, Felix saw what was left of his torturer, slumped over against the wall, hacked into several pieces.
Felix nodded at him. “That’s unfortunate.”
“Why’s that?”
“I wanted to kill him myself.”
Jonas shot him a dark grin as they continued to navigate the ruined dungeon.
“We’ve got a lot to do,” Jonas said as they began up the stairs. “And we need your help. Are you in?”
Felix nodded. “I’m definitely with you. Whatever you need.”
“I have someone who can heal you quickly.” Jonas looked him over again, grimacing. “I don’t think she can help with your eye, though.”
“Ah, thanks for the reminder. I knew I forgot something in my cell.”
“Here, consider this a gift.” He fished into his pocket and handed Felix a black eye patch. “I’m sure it’ll look better on you than it did on me.”
Felix looked up at him, puzzled. “I won’t ask.”
Jonas grinned. “So how’s your redemption plan coming along?”
Felix laughed, and it hurt just a little less this time.
• • •
The eye patch was going to take some getting used to, but Olivia managed to heal all of Felix’s other wounds.
As the Watcher worked on Felix, Jonas looked on, vocally annoyed that her healing recipe hadn’t included cow dung this time.
“I had to use that on you back then. You still thought I was only a witch,” she explained. “There are no witches powerful enough to heal serious wounds with touch alone.”
“Whatever you’re doing,” Felix said, gritting his teeth through the pain of the miraculous earth magic, “don’t stop.”
The prison break had officially marked the start the Kraeshian revolution. Rebels, including those who’d just escaped from the prison, poured out into the streets ready to fight, itching to take over the Emerald Spear and the Jewel itself.
Still, after Mikah explained the current situation, Felix knew—with fewer than three hundred dedicated rebels currently on the island—they didn’t have nearly enough revolutionaries to succeed in a takeover in a city this size.
Even with twenty ships of Kraeshian troops sailing to Mytica to help with the king’s “peaceful occupation” the remaining guards in the city outnumbered the rebels ten to one.
Still, Felix was even more impressed with Mikah now than when he’d first learned of his ambitions. He’d never known anyone more determined to make a difference in the world, no matter how long it took.
“Where’s Taran?” Felix asked him now.
“On the south side of the city. I put him in charge of the faction over there.”
“Who’s Taran?” asked Nicolo Cassian, whom Felix remembered as Jonas’s redheaded friend who’d helped them rescue Lys from her execution.
He’d asked about Lysandra, but hadn’t gotten a satisfying answer. Likely, she’d stayed behind in Mytica to keep an eye on Prince Magnus.
That, or perhaps she hadn’t been as forgiving as Jonas, and still blamed him for what happened that terrible night in Auranos.
He’d have to deal with her later.
“Taran’s a rebel,” Felix replied. “You might even know him already. He’s from Auranos originally.”
Nic shrugged. “It’s a pretty big kingdom.”
“Amara and the king should be nearing Mytican shores by now, right?” Jonas asked.
“They probably have two or three days left ahead of them,” Mikah confirmed. “And the rest of the ships are only a half day behind them.”
“We need to get a message to the prince,” Felix said. “To warn him what’s coming. If this so-called peaceful occupation has anything to do with Amara, then Mytica is in for a lot of violence. She’s the one who’s taking over, and if the king gives her any problems, she’s going to kill him.”
“I don’t see anything wrong with that,” Nic said.
“For all his greed and ruthlessness, the king values Mytica,” Jonas said, pacing back and forth, his arms crossed. “What Amara must want most from him is to get her hands on the rest of the Kindred.”
Felix had admitted his stupidity and confirmed that the king had the air Kindred, but Jonas assured him that that was the only one the king would have in his personal possession.
Amara, that wicked, deceitful black widow spider, had the water Kindred the whole time, and Felix had had absolutely no idea.
“A raven won’t get there in time,” Jonas said. “Olivia?”
She came to his side. “Yes?”
“How fast can you fly?”
“Very fast.”
“I need you to take a message to the prince. You’ll need to leave immediately.”
She scanned the group, her expression pinched. “I can’t leave. If I do, you’ll be vulnerable to attack.”
“And if you don’t, many people in Mytica will be in terrible danger.”
“And?” Her tone held an exasperated edge. “Am I to understand that you’re counting every living soul in Mytica a friend, and that I need to protect them all?”
“That’s exactly right.” Jonas took her by her shoulders. “Please, Olivia. This is important. Please do this for me.”
“Mortals,” she said, shaking her head. Olivia studied Jonas for a
moment of stony silence. “Very well,” she finally said. “Compose your message. But if you die before I return, I refuse to be held responsible.”
Jonas nodded. “Fair enough.”
CHAPTER 25
LUCIA
PAELSIA
The deadly events in the Paelsian market had stayed with Lucia ever since, troubling her thoughts by day and stealing her sleep by night.
Kyan had grown increasingly irate ever since, his violence more easily triggered. Moments of calm and introspection were few and far between as they continued searching for a way to draw Timotheus out of the Sanctuary.
That search had brought them to two neighboring Paelsian villages—five miles apart.
Kyan had already turned one of these villages to ash.
Lucia stood with Kyan in the midst of the flames that continued to burn. In front of them was an old witch whom Kyan interrogated, believing her to know more than she was telling them.
“You’re evil,” the witch snarled. “And you need to be destroyed. You are bound for the darklands, both of you!”
Kyan regarded her with disdain. “If it weren’t for the misplaced lusts of the immortals, you witches, with your weak, tainted magic, wouldn’t even exist.”
“Enough,” Lucia growled. “She knows nothing that can help us.”
It had been a long, disappointing day, and all she wanted to do was try to get some sleep.
“Make her talk, little sorceress,” Kyan said. “Or she will die.”
Lucia had grown tired of witnessing so much suffering. She didn’t want anyone else to die tonight; just the thought made her ill. So she did what Kyan asked.
“Look at me,” Lucia commanded with as much strength as she could summon.
When the witch finally met her gaze, Lucia focused all of her magic into making her tell the truth.
“Where is the stone wheel that still possesses its magical link to the Sanctuary?”
Unlike all the others who’d fallen under Lucia’s spell, the witch neither flinched nor gasped. Instead, she cocked her head and narrowed her eyes. “I told you, girl. I don’t know. And if I did, I wouldn’t tell you.”
Lucia hissed out a breath and tried again, now clenching her fists.
Again, the witch deflected the questions as easily as if Lucia were speaking a foreign language.
Her magic wasn’t working—only more proof that she needed to rest.
“Try a simpler question,” Kyan hissed.
Lucia nodded assent. The sooner she got him a satisfying answer, the sooner they could leave this horrible place. “What is your name, witch?”
The witch spat directly in Lucia’s face. “My name will die with me before it leaves my lips tonight.”
Lucia felt the heat of Kyan’s fire. She turned to him angrily as the flames rippled down his arms. “There’s no reason to kill her.”
He extinguished his fire, now showing that his hands were curled into tight fists. “She’s useless!”
“So we’ll find someone else. Tomorrow, the next day. What does it matter?”
“It matters more than you realize,” he snarled at her, then turned and stormed away from them, trailing fire in his wake.
Lucia drew in a shaky breath, then turned back to the woman. “I didn’t mean for this to happen tonight. Your village—”
“Leave here,” the witch said through clenched teeth. “And never return.”
Lucia straightened her shoulders. “I spared your life.”
“Do you really think you can ever be forgiven for the death and devastation you’ve caused here tonight?”
“I would never ask for—”
“Leave,” the woman snarled, her eyes brimming with tears.
Flinching, Lucia finally turned away from the woman and then trudged out through the flames and destruction Kyan had caused behind her.
Kyan was waiting for her at the top of a nearby hill, looking down at the village he’d crushed so easily, as if it were an ant hill he’d decided to step on.
He gave her a sidelong look, his expression grim and unfriendly. “I’m disappointed in you,” he said.
“Is that so?”
“Yes. I believed you to be the sorceress reborn.”
Her jaw tightened. “That’s exactly who I am.”
“Perhaps my memory of Eva grows dim after all this time. But you—you’ve shown tonight that you’re nothing compared to her. If she were still here, still alive, Timotheus would already be dead.”
Kyan rarely turned his anger on her, and when he did she didn’t like it one bit. She glared at him, defiant. “You said yourself I’ve accessed only a small portion of my magic so far.”
“Perhaps I was wrong. Of course I was—how could any mere mortal ever help me in my plan?”
Lucia’s indignation grew with every word he spoke, but she tried her best to calm herself. One of them had to think rationally. She took a deep breath. “We need to take a break,” she said. “We’ll find an inn in the other town and get rest, food. And we will find a wheel, Kyan. I promised I’d help you, and I meant it. I still mean it now. But you need to control yourself. This,” she said, indicating the smoldering village, “is becoming a problem.”
Kyan’s eyes flashed fiercely, and Lucia braced herself. “All this is, Lucia, is more useless, disappointing mortals turned to dust. I don’t see any problem with that.”
Despite herself, Lucia scoffed. “I do.”
“More proof that you’ve become useless to me.”
His words wounded her, but she refused to let it show.
She forced herself to breathe, to not unleash any more of her temper or, worse, start to cry. “The moment I killed Melenia, everything about my life, my journey, became so clear to me. I wanted to destroy everything and everyone.”
“And now?”
“I’m not so sure anymore. But that’s what you want, isn’t it? You want to lay waste to this entire kingdom. So go ahead.” She waited for his reply, but none came. “No? I think I’m starting to understand. You may be free of that crystal, but you’ll remain imprisoned until Timotheus is dead and your siblings are released, won’t you? Which means you do need me, much more than I need you. Which means you better start behaving yourself.”
A dark, cold shadow slid behind his amber eyes. “You don’t know me nearly as well as you think you do, little sorceress.”
“If you say so. Now, I’m going to make my journey—alone—to the other village so I can find an inn and get some sleep. Don’t disturb me until morning.”
Lucia turned her back to him and walked away.
• • •
Lucia tossed and turned for ages, her thoughts in turmoil. It was as if the vivid memories of all she’d witnessed and been party to with Kyan over these past weeks had been branded in her mind.
Though she spent nearly all her energy trying not to think of Alexius, the image of his face came to her now, along with his words of love, his promises for the future. They were like daggers to her heart.
She thought of Magnus, her best friend and the only brother she’d ever known, reaching for her, offering to help her despite all she’d done to taint their relationship over the past year.
She thought of her father, who, despite his cruelty toward others, had never been anything but kind and understanding with her—even before he became certain she was the sorceress he believed her to be.
She thought of Cleo, how Lucia had reluctantly befriended her, and for a while had felt like she’d met someone she might trust with her deepest, darkest secrets.
And then Jonas, a boy she’d known only by reputation until that day in the market, when she’d stood by and witnessed his stunned devastation after Kyan murdered his friend—a brave girl who’d only tried to protect him.
Wherever Lucia went, she brought pain with her. There was a time not so long ago when she might not have cared, but now . . .
She asked herself the same question everyone was always asking Kyan.
<
br /> Who am I? What am I?
Honestly, she didn’t really know anymore. All she knew for sure was that there was no turning back.
It took a small eternity before the darkness of sleep finally claimed her.
But soon that darkness brightened, transforming itself into a familiar meadow. Standing there before her was a handsome young man in shimmering white robes.
No, not tonight, she thought. She couldn’t bear to face him tonight.
Lucia turned in a quick circle, frantically searching for an escape but already knowing she was trapped.
“It’s been some time, Lucia,” Timotheus said. “How have you been?”
“Go away. Let me wake up.”
“Has the fire Kindred been behaving himself?”
She wondered what he knew, what he’d seen. What he might be able to read in her sleeping mind. His confident posturing here, in this place over which he had complete control, intimidated her.
Lucia forced a smile, but didn’t try to make it look friendly. “Kyan’s just wonderful, thank you for asking.”
His lips stretched out to a thin smile. “I’m sure he is.”
She let out a sigh of frustration. “This is the second dream you’ve pulled me into. What’s your reason tonight? Other than wanting to annoy me.”
“Have you forgiven Alexius for deceiving you?”
Once again, the sound of his name was a blow. “I’ll never forgive him.”
“He deserves better than for you to hate him for Melenia’s choices.”
Her eyes began to sting with tears, which only infuriated her further. “That’s a matter of opinion.”
“One day you’ll forgive him for leaving you to make stupid, selfish decisions all by yourself.”
“Oh, Timotheus, this verbal abuse only makes me hate you more.”
“You have no reason to hate me.”
“Kyan does.”
“Perhaps. But you are not Kyan.” Timotheus leaned against the apple tree and studied her with his ancient golden eyes. “So. Why have I brought you into another dream, you wonder? Especially after the poor impression you left me with the first time?”
“I’m not the only one who left a poor impression.”