Two men stood on the front step. The taller one was heavily armed, well muscled, and intimidating even while standing still, but it was the short, slender man who commanded Clio’s attention.
Bastian, heir to the Nereid family, crown prince of Irida, future ruler of the nymphs.
And her half-brother.
Chapter Three
The taller man brushed red hair off his forehead and grinned, his threatening demeanor mitigated by cheerful humor. “Hey, Kass. Paranoid as always, I see.”
Kassia stepped back, relaxing her stance. “If I wasn’t paranoid, I wouldn’t be earning my pay.”
The prince’s bodyguard bounced inside with boyish enthusiasm, the sheaths for a sword and several long knives on his belt clanking. His crimson eyes swept the room before stopping on Clio. His brow furrowed.
“Clio? What happened to you?”
She glanced at her muddy skirt and drenched, dirt-spattered shirt clinging to her skin rather inappropriately. Her face heated. “Uh, I got caught in the rain.”
“At home?”
“I was working in the garden.” She shrugged self-consciously.
Bastian stepped across the threshold, water droplets clinging to his clothes, and pushed back the hood of his stylish jacket. As Kassia shut the door and keyed the defensive spells, he undid the first few buttons of his coat but didn’t remove it. Clio’s shoulders drooped with disappointment.
Her half-brother stood about four inches taller than Clio and shared her blond hair and creamy skin. His eyes, however, were an azure far lighter than Clio’s sky-blue irises. “Handsome” was an understatement, but his beauty had the same effeminate quality as hers, giving him an almost androgynous appearance—nothing like the raw virility of the incubus from last week. Then again, maybe the incubus didn’t look like that. Glamour was deceiving, and illusion spells even more so.
Towering over her and Bastian, Eryx looked like a disreputable punk. A torn white t-shirt, jeans with one knee ripped out, full-sleeve tattoos running up both arms, four earrings in his left ear, and constantly messy red hair didn’t inspire confidence. His assorted weapons were the only thing about him that seemed reliable. Bastian was normally so conscious of appearances and deportment that Clio was surprised he didn’t insist Eryx dress more respectably.
“My apologies for our lateness, Clio,” Bastian said, his words soft and precise as though he measured each one before speaking. “How are you?”
“I’m well,” she answered quickly. “Is everything all right? You’re really late …”
“We were unexpectedly delayed.” He offered no other explanation. “I’m afraid we can’t stay long, and there is much to discuss.”
Not waiting for her response, he walked toward the sitting area. Eryx grabbed a kitchen chair from the table and set it beside the sofa for Bastian. The crown prince of Irida wasn’t the “slouch on the sofa” type, but his bodyguard dropped right down on the sagging cushions and propped his heavy boots on the coffee table.
Kassia stayed where she was, scowling at the floor. As much as Clio hated to admit it, her friend had good reason to dislike Bastian. He hadn’t looked at, spoken to, or in any way acknowledged Kassia since arriving.
Sighing, Clio perched on the edge of their threadbare recliner and tucked her filthy feet together to hide them.
Bastian smiled, the expression softening the cold, aristocratic lines of his face and warming his pale eyes. “I’m sorry we missed dinner. Next time, I’ll make sure we can relax and visit properly.”
She returned his smile. If he would just give Kassia a few of those smiles, she wouldn’t think so poorly of him. “Don’t worry about it.”
Polite as always, he didn’t comment on her wet and muddy state. “How did it go last week?”
Straight to business. Eryx picked up a book on wildflowers and flipped through it, pointedly not taking part in the conversation.
“It went …” She plucked at the front of her wet shirt, unsticking it from her chest. “I couldn’t get a read on the spell. When the agent picked it up, I was … distracted … by some other customers in the store, and I missed my opportunity.”
Silence thrummed through the room before Bastian spoke. “I’m sure you did your best.”
Had she? She should have ignored the incubus. She should have done better.
“We’ll manage without that information,” Bastian continued. “We can’t track every custom spell they commission.”
She forced her gaze up. “How are things at home?”
“Tensions along the southern border are increasing but the king is reluctant to reinforce our defenses in case it triggers a military confrontation.”
Clio nodded earnestly, though her familiarity with Irida’s recent politics was limited to what Bastian disclosed during his visits. Irida shared its southern border with the largest and most powerful territory in the Overworld, ruled by the Ra family.
In her realm, various daemon families ruled assorted territories, and the competition between them was fierce. The Ra family—a desert people whose name had inspired a human sun deity thousands of years ago—was among the most prominent, while the Nereid family—Bastian’s family and the bloodline Clio shared—was small and inconsequential in comparison.
The Ra’s interest in the small territory of Irida was alarming, and Clio’s mark from last week, the one who’d ordered a secret spell at that shop, was a Ra.
Bastian rubbed his jaw. “It’s been almost two years since I asked you to retreat to Earth where Ra wouldn’t discover your existence. You’ve been patient, Clio, and I appreciate your understanding and dedication to keeping our family safe.”
She leaned forward, containing her hope at what his next words would be.
“I wish I could say it’s time for you to return.”
Biting the inside of her cheek to hide her wince, she almost slumped back before remembering her wet clothes.
“If anything, the situation has worsened in Irida.” His gaze lost focus. “Ra has been commissioning new weapons, and their border patrols keep increasing. I fear they’re planning to invade us.”
“Invade?” she gasped. “They wouldn’t dare!”
“We are too few to defend our borders effectively. They could easily destroy us if they abandoned all pretenses of diplomacy.”
“That—that can’t happen.” If Ra annexed Irida … if they destroyed her home … she couldn’t bear the thought. “What are we going to do?”
“I’ve been investigating these new magics the Ras are procuring, hoping to arm ourselves the same way, but …”
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, feeling cold all over. “I failed my assignment. I knew it was important, but I didn’t—”
Bastian held up a hand. “As I said, one spell won’t change anything. Custom weapons take too long to produce in large numbers, and though Ra has the resources to do it, we don’t.” He leaned back in his chair. “We can’t rival them in quantity of spellcrafted weaponry. Our only hope is to match them with a handful of superior weapons instead—spells powerful enough to intimidate even them. If we can create a stalemate, we can potentially avoid direct confrontation entirely.”
Magic, though powerful, didn’t come anywhere near the destructive capabilities of the nuclear weapons humans had once wielded. To halt an impending war, a spell would have to be innovative as well as formidable.
“If we could get our hands on spells like that, wouldn’t that mean Ra could too?” she asked uneasily.
“That’s just it. There are no weapons like that—not in the Overworld.” He sat forward again. “Clio, have you ever heard of Chrysalis?”
“Um.” She scrunched her face, worried she should know this. “It’s not ringing a bell.”
“You’re familiar with the Hades family, correct?”
A chill whispered through her. Who wasn’t familiar with the Hades family? Like the Ras in the Overworld, the Hades family was the most powerful in the Underworld—and th
e rulers of the realm of night were far more terrifying than any Overworld family. Hades had reigned supreme for the past five hundred years, ever since the horrifying bloodbath where they wiped a rival caste of daemons out of existence.
Luckily, her family didn’t have to worry about Hades too much. Overworlders didn’t go to the Underworld, and vice versa, so war between them was impossible. Their conflicts were limited to minor spats on Earth.
Seeing her shiver in recognition, Bastian nodded. “Chrysalis is an organization—a company, for lack of a better term—controlled by the Hades family. Their primary product is magical weaponry. They employ the best spell weavers in the three worlds. I could name dozens of spells we use every day that originated from Chrysalis, though most daemons are unaware of its existence.”
He drummed his fingers on his knee. “It’s not unreasonable to attribute most of Hades’s power and success to Chrysalis. They provide Hades with the best, and deadliest, magic to use against their adversaries, and Chrysalis alone could bankroll entire wars with the profits from selling their spellcraft.”
“Is Chrysalis creating spells for the Ra family?”
“Chrysalis won’t sell magic to a Hades rival. Typically, they don’t deal with Overworlders at all.” He rose to his feet. “You said you have a garden here?”
“Uh, yes?” she stammered, surprised by the question. He’d never asked about it before.
“I’d like some fresh air. Would you show it to me?”
“Of—of course. It’s just out back.”
As she rose, Eryx uncoiled from the sofa and breezed past them. The back door banged as he exited to scope out the yard for danger. Clio glanced at Kassia. A wrinkle of worry formed between her eyebrows as she watched Bastian.
Clio led her half-brother through the kitchen, wincing at the sight of her muddy footprints, and held the door open for him. Their townhouse was in the middle of a row of five, and the back faced an identical row of shabby townhomes, with a large communal yard between them. When Clio had moved in two years ago, the yard had been nothing but cracked dirt and garbage. She’d taken it over, clearing out the trash and revitalizing the soil.
Now, after two full growing seasons, it was a small paradise of wildflowers, vegetables, and herbs, with even a few berry bushes in the corners. Her neighbors, who couldn’t have cared less when she first asked about planting a garden, now delighted in visiting the yard and sharing in the harvest of vegetables. There was plenty to go around with only five of the ten houses occupied. Like the city, the neighborhood was full of abandoned streets and rundown buildings.
From what Clio had heard, a few nearby suburbs were almost respectable—more like the small towns where most humans lived—but for a daemon, the inner city was the safest place to be.
The rain had gentled to a soft patter. Eryx, standing at the far end of the yard, gave Bastian an affirmative nod that all was safe. The prince ambled along one of the paths to the garden’s center, his gaze traveling across the vivid blossoms in the final throes of life before autumn set in. Clio and her neighbors had harvested the edible plants, but the flowers would bloom for another couple of weeks.
Clio padded after him on bare feet, nervously twisting the hem of her top as she waited for his assessment. It wasn’t much compared to the lush gardens that filled every courtyard of Irida’s royal palace, but it was a big step up from what she’d started with.
“It’s lovely,” Bastian said, and she relaxed.
He leaned down to touch the heavy blooms of an orange wood lily. As the future king of Irida, he had long ago learned to hide his emotions, but she saw signs of stress and anxiety. His worry fueled her own, and she shifted unhappily, frustrated that there was nothing she could do to ease his burdens.
Once, years ago, he’d been the one to shoulder her burdens.
She and her mother had always lived on their own, separate from the nymph community. When her mother had died, Clio had been alone—no friends, no family, no support.
Then Bastian had found her. The half-brother she’d never met, a prince and son of the man who’d banished Clio’s mother from his palace.
Against his father’s wishes, Bastian had brought her to the palace and given her a place to live, given her food and clothes and even tutors. When she’d had no one, he had come into her life and saved her. He’d checked in on her every week, introduced her to their little sister, and eventually arranged a few brief meetings between her and the king, giving father and daughter a chance to start anew.
And when the Ra threat had escalated two years ago, Bastian had knelt at her feet and asked her to forgive him for sending her away. He’d promised to take care of her, even on Earth, and he had. He might be reserved and seem cold and single-minded to others, but his love for his people, even a forgotten half-sister rejected by his father, was beyond criticism.
“War would devastate our kingdom,” he murmured after a moment. Straightening, he tilted his face toward the rain. “Even if we could hold against Ra, the conflict would claim many innocent lives and destroy our way of life. This is what the king fears, and why he’s moving so cautiously.”
She watched him, unable to offer advice. He knew far more than she did about the danger their homeland faced.
His pale eyes fixed on her. “If we could arm ourselves with magic that Ra dared not challenge, magic that would make a war as costly to them as it would be for us, we could end the threat before a single battle was fought.”
She frowned, unsure what his intense stare meant. “So our only option is to get some kind of extra-powerful war magic?”
“I wouldn’t say it’s the only option … but it’s the only one I see with the potential to spare our people from danger.”
“But is it possible?” she asked. “You already said that kind of magic doesn’t exist in the Overworld. I’m assuming we can’t just hire a spell weaver to make us something.”
“The only spell weavers with the skill to craft something powerful enough to end a war are the master weavers of Chrysalis.”
“But Chrysalis doesn’t deal with Overworlders.”
“Not normally, no.” Bastian crouched beside a wilted harebell with purple blossoms. A shimmer of green light danced over his fingers as he imbued a touch of magic into the plant before rising again. “But Chrysalis is, above all, a business. Offer them something valuable enough, and they’ll at least listen.”
“But would Hades allow them to sell that kind of magic to an Overworld kingdom?”
“Hades shares a common enemy with us. That, combined with a sizable down payment, might be enough to open negotiations.”
“How much are we talking though?” she asked. Irida was among the wealthiest territories in the Overworld, but custom weavings were expensive enough to bankrupt even the wealthy. The spellwork Bastian was talking about would be insanely pricey.
“To be frank, more than we can afford. We can’t empty our treasury on the eve of a potential war, even for spells we hope will end the conflict.” He stepped closer, rain falling unnoticed. “Paying for their magic, however, is not my intent.”
A chill crawled down her spine. “What?”
He gazed at her for a long moment, something unknown flickering across his expression. “I can’t in good conscience ask this of you, Clio. It’s not a fair request.”
“What do you mean?”
He shifted away from her, doubt written in his body language—the first time she’d ever seen his steady self-assurance falter. “Chrysalis specializes in military spellcraft, and their most lethal magic is reserved for Hades. The weavings they would offer us might not be enough to stop Ra, and we couldn’t afford it anyway. But what if we could access their magic—their best magic—without paying them anything?”
When he faced her again, all hesitation was gone. “Hades and Chrysalis don’t know you exist—a Nereid nymph with the royal bloodline. They have no reason to suspect your abilities.”
The chill in her veins deep
ened and she shivered, wrapping her arms around herself.
“If you could get close enough to Chrysalis’s war magic, you would only need a good look at their spells. Purchasing anything would be unnecessary. You could scout their weavings and return home, and we could duplicate the magic ourselves.”
Her brain caught on the words “return home” and she didn’t immediately realize what he was suggesting they do. What he wanted her to do.
“You would visit Chrysalis on the pretense of commissioning a spell, something reasonable they would be willing to craft, and while there, you would find their real warfare weavings. Then you would walk away, empty-handed in their eyes, and they would never know we had acquired the blueprints for magic we could never otherwise make or afford.”
“I …” She struggled to absorb it all. “I don’t …”
He exhaled a harsh sound. “As I said, I can’t make this request. It would be unacceptably dangerous—nothing like the small tasks you’ve done for me these past few months. You would have to deceive powerful Underworld daemons and—”
“I’ll do it.”
He frowned at her. “Clio, before you volunteer, you should know the risks—”
“It doesn’t matter.” She lifted her chin. “You said this was the only way to stop Ra and keep our people safe. To prevent war, I’ll do anything.”
And, above all, she’d do it for the chance to return home. If she could read Chrysalis’s spells, then Bastian would take her back to Irida so she could teach the spells to their weavers.
Bastian searched her face. “Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.”
A smile broke through his grim concern. “Your bravery is commendable, Clio. I don’t know how to thank you.”
“I just want to help,” she mumbled, blushing.
“I’ll make the arrangements, and we’ll do everything possible to assure your safety. Eryx, you will prepare someone you trust as my guard. I want you to accompany Clio to Chrysalis.”
The redheaded daemon saluted casually. “No problem, Prince Bastian. I’ll find a couple replacements.” He grinned. “It’ll take two guards to equal me.”