It was everything he’d ever wanted.
Mira had approached to refill the water jug, making eye contact with neither Magnus nor the king. She moved quietly as if hoping to remain unnoticed.
“What is your name again?” the king asked her, his voice soft.
Her shoulders went rigid as she straightened, and her gaze moved from the ground next to the bed to meet the king’s directly. “Mira, your majesty.”
“You haven’t, by chance, been listening to anything my son and I have been discussing, have you, Mira?”
“No, your majesty,” she said immediately. Her brows drew together, as if surprised by the question. “I focus on the room, cleaning, and tidying, and taking care of the princess. That’s all. I don’t listen.”
The king nodded. “I’m very glad to hear that. With the rebels so active now, we must be very conscious of what we say and to whom we say it. Spies could be anywhere, couldn’t they?”
“Of course, I completely understand.” Her shoulders relaxed ever so slightly. “Was there anything else, your majesty?”
The king scratched his chin, as if considering. “I’m curious to know if my son believes you.”
Magnus tensed.
His father easily wore the mask of indifference that Magnus currently struggled with. “I know you’re familiar with servants who develop unhealthy habits of overhearing information by accident,” the king continued, “so I’d like your opinion on the matter.”
Magnus remembered the icy walls of the tower where Amia had been restrained, beaten, and questioned about her crime of eavesdropping—which she’d done on his orders. He’d sent the girl away so she’d have the chance at a better life—at any life—but his father had her hunted down and killed anyway. Magnus chose his next words very carefully.
“We were speaking quietly and this girl was on the other side of the room. I believe she heard nothing that would cause any problems. Besides, even if she did hear something, she would take it no further if she knew what was good for her. Am I right, Mira?”
The girl glanced at him, distrust in her gaze that he might say anything to defend her. “Yes, your grace.”
The king let out a long sigh. “Of course you’re right. Listen to me. I’ve become an old man convinced that enemies are hiding in every shadow.” He laughed as he moved around to the other side of the bed so he could pat her cheek affectionately, just as he’d done before to Magnus. “Mira, my dear girl, please accept my sincere apologies for alarming you.”
The hint of a smile appeared on her pretty face. “No apology is necessary, your majesty.”
The king regarded her a moment longer. “However, I do believe in taking certain precautions.”
With unexpected speed, he took hold of her head with both hands and twisted sharply. The girl’s neck broke with a loud crack. She crumpled to the ground, her wide eyes now blank and glazed and absent of life.
It had all happened in an instant.
Magnus stared at his father, unable to conceal his horrified shock. “You didn’t have to do that!”
The king wiped his hands off on the front of his black surcoat. “Meaningless servants can be replaced. She was nothing special. I’ll find another to attend your sister.”
Nothing special. Only a friend to Princess Cleo. Only a sister to Nicolo Cassian. Only another whose life had been snuffed out by the king while Magnus stood idly by.
He wanted so desperately not to care about this—not to care about anything but finding the Kindred for himself and for Lucia—to be as cold and ruthless as his father found it so easy to be.
If only that were possible.
• • •
After the king left Lucia’s chambers, Cronus entered. Wordlessly, the large, brutish guard swept Mira’s lifeless body up into his arms and departed the room.
A beam of sunlight shone in through the balcony window, illuminating a small patch on the floor. Otherwise, the room was in shadows. A collection of candles next to the bed lent their flickering light to the princess’s tranquil face.
Magnus held on to the edge of the silk sheets, squeezing hard and trying to concentrate on nothing but the smooth feel of the fabric. His heart still thundered from what had happened. The girl hadn’t meant any harm, he was sure of it.
Yet now she was dead.
His legs weakened and he sank down to his knees next to Lucia’s side. He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his forehead against the edge of the bed.
Then he heard something. A quiet moan. Then a deep intake of breath.
He opened his eyes. Lucia’s eyelids fluttered, as if she was having another dream—perhaps one about Alexius. Whoever he was.
Then he caught a glimpse of her bright blue eyes beneath thick black lashes. Slowly, she turned her head to face him.
“Magnus?” she whispered, her voice hoarse.
His breath caught. Surely, he had to be the one who was dreaming now. “Lucia . . . is this true? Are you really awake?”
She squinted at him as if the meager amount of light in this room was too much for her to bear. “How long have I been asleep?”
“Far too long,” he managed to reply.
A frown creased her brow. “What about Hana? Is Hana all right?”
It took him a moment to understand what she meant. Hana was Lucia’s pet rabbit, a gift from Magnus that he’d brought back to her at the Limerian castle after a hunt. “Hana is fine. In fact, Mother brought her along for you when she journeyed here to be with us. She arrived a few days after we took over this palace.”
The worry that had been in her eyes lessened. “Good.”
“This is incredible.” He pushed himself up to his feet, wanting to pinch himself to prove he wasn’t asleep. “I didn’t think you’d ever open your eyes again, but you’re here. You’re back!”
Lucia tried to raise her head off the pillow but failed. Her gaze slid around the room as if she was searching for something. For someone.
“You didn’t answer me before,” she said. “How long was I gone?”
“Forever. Or it seemed like it to me. It’s been almost a month and a half since the siege upon this castle.” The joy this moment should summon was dampened as Magnus remembered the girl who’d just lost her life and how she had dutifully attended Lucia for much of the time she was comatose. Lucia would never meet her, could never thank her.
Lucia’s eyes widened. “That long?”
“Father insists on staying here in Auranos as a physical reminder to everyone of his claim upon this kingdom and throne. All of Mytica is now his after . . . after his alliance with the Paelsian chief fell through.” Actually, the king had murdered Chief Basilius during a celebratory dinner. All part of King Gaius’s master plan.
Magnus sat down on the edge of the bed and gazed into Lucia’s eyes. He wanted to pull her into his arms and hold her tight, but resisted the urge. Given the strain between them from when he’d kissed her before, he knew that wouldn’t be wise.
He didn’t believe his heart would recover from her rejection, but here he was, and his pulse pounded hard and fast now that she had finally returned to him. Another chance to prove himself to her. He would not act so impulsively again.
“You’re awake now and all is well,” he said. “How do you feel?”
“Weak. And . . . horrible.” She drew in a shaky breath. “I killed people with my magic, Magnus.”
More than two hundred had died in or because of the explosion, but he chose not to share such distressing numbers with her. “No one blames you for anything that happened. It had to be done. And had it not, we wouldn’t have won. We would be the ones who died. It’s not your fault.”
“That’s what he told me too—that it wasn’t my fault.”
He looked at her sharply. “Who told you?”
She pressed her lips tog
ether and looked away. “No one.”
“Who is Alexius, Lucia?”
Her eyes, now wide, returned to lock with his. “Where did you hear that name?”
“I’m told that you whispered it in your sleep.” Something dark and endlessly unpleasant stirred within him.
“Alexius, he’s . . .” Lucia shook her head. “No one. Just a dream. Nothing more than that.”
Before Magnus could ask another question, the door creaked open and the queen entered, alone.
She greeted Magnus with a smile. “I wanted to check on Lucia, to see if she’s—” She gasped and closed the distance to the bed in only a few steps. “Lucia! My darling! You’ve come back to us. Praise the goddess!”
Lucia’s distressed expression froze away. “My, my. What a greeting. I must truly have been close to death to elicit such devotion from you.”
The queen flinched. “I suppose I deserve that.”
Lucia’s face paled. “Apologies, Mother. I—I didn’t mean such poisonous words. I’m sorry. It’s as though I couldn’t hold them back.”
“Nor should you, my darling. You must always give voice to how you feel. Don’t hold it inside.” The queen quickly composed herself and sat down on the edge of the bed. “Do you remember the last time you rose from your slumber? This has happened before.”
Magnus’s gaze shot to her. “It has?”
She nodded. “Twice before when I was here. Alas, it never lasts more than a few minutes and then she falls asleep again.”
He fisted his hands at his sides. “Why didn’t you tell me this?”
His mother turned her head at his sharp and angry tone, her expression patient. “Because I knew you would only be disappointed. I know how deeply you love your sister.”
There was something in the way she said it. Did the queen know Magnus’s dark secret as Lucia did?
He wished that they might wipe the slate clean. To return to how it was when everything was simpler between them. To start again.
Impossible.
“I don’t remember waking before,” Lucia said, confused, as she pushed herself up to a sitting position.
“You still should have told me, Mother,” Magnus growled. “And told Father, too.”
“And risk one of his rages when she slipped away yet again? No, my son. I certainly shouldn’t have. We will see how this goes, if she stays with us this time, before we say a single word about it to him.”
“I will stay awake,” Lucia insisted.
“Go now,” the queen said, standing up and squeezing Magnus’s hands in her own. “I’ll attend to my daughter.”
“But, Mother—”
“Go,” she said, her tone firm. “And say nothing to the king until I tell you otherwise.”
The anger that had risen inside him at the thought that his mother would keep such secrets from him hadn’t yet lessened, but he did understand why she’d chosen to do so. After all, he would have done exactly the same to protect Lucia.
“Fine.” The word was uttered through clenched teeth. “But I will come back.”
“Of course you will. You’ve never been able to stay away from her for long. She’s the only one you’ve ever truly cared about, isn’t she?”
A muscle in his scarred cheek twitched. “Wrong, Mother. I cared about you. And I could again, if you let me.”
His words had succeeded in bringing a glistening to the queen’s eyes, but her only reply was a shallow nod. He shifted his gaze to Lucia. “I’ll return soon. I promise. Please . . . don’t fall asleep again.”
Then he left them alone just as the queen commanded.
CHAPTER 12
LUCIA
AURANOS
The majesty of the room around her took Lucia’s breath away. Compared to her more austere chambers in the Limerian palace, this was the very definition of luxury. The floors and walls shone as if set with precious metals. The breeze from the open balcony window was warm, not frigid. The canopied bed was soft, covered in imported fabrics that were colorful and silky, with fur throws that were pure white and as soft and warm as Hana’s fur.
So very strange—it was as if she was still dreaming.
Dreaming.
Alexius . . .
At first, she thought it had been him sitting vigil at her bedside as she woke. But Alexius’s hair was bronze, not black. His eyes golden and full of joy, not dark brown and pained. She hoped Magnus had not seen the disappointment in her own eyes that it was he she saw, not the boy from her dreams.
The queen sat back down on the edge of the bed and pressed her cool hand to Lucia’s forehead. “How are you feeling, my darling? Thirsty?”
Lucia nodded. “I don’t remember waking before. But you say I did?”
“Yes. Twice. But it was only for a moment.”
“Only a moment . . . not like this?”
“No.” The queen smiled. “Not like this. Then you drifted off again.”
Her gaze moved to the balcony, to the sliver of blue sky she could see beyond it. “I want to see Father.”
“Of course. Very soon.”
The queen moved off to the side to pour her some water and brought it back, holding the silver goblet to Lucia’s lips. The water was blissfully cool as it slid down her throat.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“I’ve heard what you did. How you used your elementia to help Gaius take this palace. Take this kingdom.” The queen sat again beside Lucia. “Many people died that day, but your father got the victory he desired.”
Lucia swallowed hard. “How many died?”
“Countless innocent lives were lost. I arrived as quickly as I could. I wanted to be here with my family, no matter what the outcome of the war. Gaius didn’t know I’d be traveling so soon. In fact, he was angry with me that I’d arrived unannounced. But I’m here. And I’ve watched over you every day since.”
Countless innocent lives.
She couldn’t blame herself for this, she told herself frantically. Her father and Magnus had been in danger—all of Limeros had been in danger. She did what she had to for her family, for her kingdom. Magnus had nearly died in front of her from injuries he’d sustained in the battle. Only her earth magic had healed him in time. Without it, he’d be gone.
And she’d do it again—every bit of it—if necessary to save those she loved.
Wouldn’t she?
Her eyes were so heavy. She was weary after only being awake a short time. It worried her that she might fall asleep again as her mother said she had before.
“Your elementia is destructive, Lucia,” the queen said softly. “You’ve proven that—both with Sabina’s murder and the horror of what you did here.”
Lucia’s stomach twisted. “I didn’t mean to kill all those people. And—Sabina . . .” The memory of the flames, of her father’s mistress burning, screaming, sent a shudder through her. “She had a blade to Magnus’s throat. I . . . didn’t think. I didn’t intend to kill her, only stop her.”
The queen gently stroked the long, dark hair back from Lucia’s face. “I know, my darling. Which makes it even worse. Gaius celebrates everything you can do, but there’s a heavy price that must be paid for such dark power. He’s not the one who will be forced to pay it, though. You are. And you don’t even realize it yet.”
Her mother’s words confused her. “You call it dark power? Elementia is natural magic . . . from the elements that created the universe itself. It’s not dark.”
“It is when it’s used to destroy. To kill. And that is what Gaius wants you for—it’s all he wants you for.” Her expression soured. “His endless quest for ultimate power. But at what cost?”
“He’s king. A king wants power.” Lucia moistened her dry lips with the tip of her tongue. “You don’t have to be afraid of me, Mother. Despite our past differences, I s
wear to the goddess I would never harm you.”
The queen smiled humorlessly at this as she lifted the goblet to Lucia’s lips so she could swallow another mouthful of the cool, soothing water. “There will soon come a time when you don’t realize whom you’re harming with your magic, Lucia. When you have no control over it anymore. When its evil completely takes you over.”
“I’m not evil!” While she’d rarely received anything but sharp words from this woman in her sixteen years of life, rarely had she been as wounded from them as she was right now.
The queen placed the empty goblet on the carved ebony bedside table and turned to grasp Lucia’s hands in hers. “I’ve sought answers to questions no one has asked. You don’t know what’s ahead—what to expect. You have so much elementia inside you that now it’s awakened it can only grow larger—like a volcano simmering, ready to erupt. And when that eruption happens . . .”
Lucia tried to harness her racing thoughts. “What? What will happen?”
There were dark circles under the queen’s eyes that hinted that she hadn’t slept well for some time. “I won’t let him destroy you for his own gain.”
“Mother, please . . .”
Her jaw tensed and she pulled away from Lucia’s grip. “He thinks I’m weak, that I stand by and watch him work his darkness without opinion or judgment. That I am only a dutiful wife who is of no consequence. But he’s wrong. I see my purpose now, Lucia. It’s to stop him any way I can. He doesn’t realize what it is he hopes to unleash upon the world. He thinks he can control that which is uncontrollable.”
Lucia found she was now trembling.
“I need to get up.” Alarmed, but still weary, she struggled to swing herself out of the bed, but the queen pressed down on her shoulder to keep her prone.
“I must kill you,” the queen whispered. “To save you from what I fear is ahead. To end this as it’s only beginning. But I can’t—not yet. When I look at you, I see the tiny, beautiful baby that was brought to me sixteen years ago. I hated you then—and I loved you.”