Unable to sleep, she dressed herself in a light silk cloak in the dead of night and decided to go to the palace library and read until dawn. Certainly, she could find more books about the Kindred. She’d glanced at some in the past but had never paid close enough attention to them.
The palace had a scattering of Kraeshian guards on duty, but not nearly as many as there had been when Amara’s occupation had started. Some were stationed in the same places where Auranian guards once stood. They were as still as statues, not seeming to pay her any attention or ask where she was going.
It wasn’t nearly the same as it had been when she’d been here last, a prisoner of war forced to marry the conquering king’s son, watched closely with every move she made.
I could leave here, she thought. Run away and start a new life—put this one far behind me.
Cleo scratched her left palm, knowing such thoughts were full of weakness and fear and utter denial.
She refused to be weak or fearful.
Entering the library, blazing with torchlight even in the wee hours of the night, felt like truly coming home. She’d only recently developed a love of books after ignoring the treasures in this expansive space for most of her life.
Thank the goddess that King Gaius had not burned them.
The library was even larger than the throne room, with shelves carved from mahogany wood that stretched thirty feet high with gold ladders to climb in order to obtain books higher than an arm’s reach. The titles and scribes of these thousands upon thousands of volumes of story and history were kept in yet another book, one that she remembered trying and failing to decipher one day when the curator wasn’t around.
Cleo couldn’t find that thick ledger tonight, so instead she traced her index finger along hundreds of spines until she found one that called out to her.
It was simply titled: Goddess.
The brown leather cover had two golden symbols upon it—the symbols for water and earth magic.
She opened the book up and held it toward a torch so she could read it easily. It held the accounts of one who was Valoria’s personal scribe when she was in power in Nothern Limeros a thousand years ago, and it held sketches of the goddess Cleo had never seen before.
“The real truth about Valoria?” she mused to herself. “Or just the personal opinions of some lovestruck scribe?”
Despite Valoria’s rumored sadistic nature—rivaling only that of King Gaius’s—she was said to be as eternally beautiful as any immortal who’d ever existed.
Still, this book seemed like one worth reading.
Cleo tucked the book under her arm, deciding to take it back to her chambers to read more. She and Valoria had one important thing in common, something she couldn’t ignore: the water Kindred.
Sleep didn’t tug at her yet, so she continued to explore the library. She found an alcove that held a great surprise. On the wall, flanked by two small lanterns, was a portrait of her mother.
Cleo hadn’t seen this painting in years. She had assumed it had been burned with the rest of the Bellos royal family.
The fact that it hadn’t been destroyed filled her heart with a sudden burst of joy and relief.
Queen Elena Bellos looked so much like Emilia. Cleo wished she’d had a chance to know her.
Beneath the portrait was a glass case, similar to the ones that her father had stuffed with the gifts from royal families from overseas who’d come to visit and brought shining treasures from their kingdoms.
This cabinet held only one piece.
A jeweled dagger.
Cleo moved closer, realizing that there was something on the ground.
A piece of torn parchment.
Unable to stifle her curiosity, she picked up the parchment to find it was a letter written in a feminine hand. Part of it had been ripped away, leaving only a few lines for her to read.
My darling Gaius,
I know you must hate me. It’s always seemed to be that way between us—either love or hate. But know as I enter this marriage that I do so out of my obligation to my family. I can’t turn my back on my mother’s wishes. It would have killed her had I run away with you. But I love you. I love you. I love you. I could repeat it a thousand times and it would never stop being true. If there were any other way, know that I would—
The letter had been torn after that line, and Cleo felt a desperate grief within her at not being able to know more.
Her mother wrote this.
She wrote this to King Gaius.
With a trembling hand, Cleo reached into the case and picked up the dagger.
The hilt was encrusted with precious jewels. A beautiful treasure, one that struck her as oddly familiar.
Aron Lagaris, Cleo’s former betrothed, had owned a jeweled dagger, but it was not nearly as grand as this. Jonas had kept Aron’s dagger for months after the tragedy at the Paelsian market that day, a reminder of losing his brother, a reminder of the vengeance in the rebel’s heart.
Another dagger came to Cleo’s mind then—one that Prince Ashur had given to her on her wedding night.
“This is a Kraeshian wedding dagger,” she breathed.
“Yes. Yes, it is.”
Cleo froze at the sound of King Gaius’s voice. She took a deep breath in and straightened her spine. “You’re the one who put it here,” she said.
“I gifted that to your mother upon her marriage to your father.”
It took her a moment to find her voice. “What a strange gift from a Limerian.”
“It is, isn’t it? I wanted her to kill Corvin with it in his sleep.”
Cleo turned to glare at him. The king wore a cloak as black as his hair, as dark as his eyes. For a moment, he looked so much like Magnus that it stole her breath.
“If you gave her such a gift,” she managed to say, “I can see why she hated you.”
“I dropped that letter earlier this evening.” His gaze fell upon it still clutched in Cleo’s hand, and in a single motion he snatched it away from her. “If you read it, you know that hate was only one of the emotions she held for me.” The king’s attention shifted to the portrait above her. “Elena kept the dagger. I saw it again in a treasure cabinet like this when I came to visit your father twelve years ago.”
Cleo’s gaze went to it again. “Is this the same dagger that Magnus saw during that visit? One so beautiful that he wanted to steal it? And you—”
“Cut him with it,” he said bluntly. “Yes. I did. And he bore the scar from that day to remind me of that moment when I lost control of myself, lost in my grief.”
“I can’t believe my mother would have ever . . .” A pain squeezed her heart, both of grief and outrage. “She loved my father.”
Gaius turned his face away so it became shrouded by shadows. “I suppose she did, in her way. Her deeply obedient, devoted to her bloody goddess, myopic family way.” His smile turned into a sneer. He studied the portrait now with disdain rather than reverence. “Elena was a treasure that your father wished to add to his growing collection. Your grandparents were thrilled that the Corso family name—certainly noble, but not important enough to earn the right to a villa in the City of Gold—might become truly royal. They accepted the betrothal without even consulting Elena about it first.”
Cleo was equal parts thirsty to know more and appalled by any slight against her beloved father. “Your mother made it sound like you had fallen for each other much earlier, on the Isle of Lukas. If this was true, why didn’t you marry her? You were a prince.”
“How clever. Why didn’t I think of that?” Such coldness to his tone, such sarcasm. She flinched from it. “Alas, there were rumors about me even then, rumors that met with her parents’ disapproval. I was . . . tainted, you might say. Dark and unpredictable, dangerous and violent. They worried for the safety of their precious daughter.”
�
�Rightfully so.”
“I would never have harmed Elena. I worshipped her.” His dark eyes glittered as he focused on Cleo. “And she knew it. She nearly ran away with me a month before she married him.”
She would have denied this very possibility if she hadn’t first read the letter. “But she didn’t.”
“No. Instead I received this message. I wasn’t very happy to read it.”
That would explain why it had been torn in half.
Cleo tried to figure it out. “My grandparents intervened . . .”
“My mother intervened.” He scowled. “I see it all now, far more clearly than ever before. How much she controlled when it came to her plans for me. Her control over me.”
“Selia spoke to my grandparents? Warned them?”
“No. After I received this”—his grip on the parchment tightened—“my mother saw how distraught I’d become. How distracted and obsessed. She knew I would never give Elena up. So she had your grandparents murdered.”
“What?” Cleo gasped. “I know they died years before I was born, but . . . I was never told how.”
“Some feel that painful tales are best kept from innocent ears. They were killed by an assassin sent by Queen Selia Damora herself. Until that moment, I believed there was still a chance that Elena would walk away from the wedding to be with me instead. But in her grief, Elena believed the rumors that I was the one behind this act. She married Corvin and made it clear that she hated me. I didn’t take the rejection well, so I did what any fool would do. I became everything she thought I was.”
Cleo’s mind reeled. “So you weren’t always . . .”
“Evil and sadistic?” The small, cold smile returned. “I was never kind, at least not to those who didn’t deserve it. And very few did. This, however . . . it worked exactly as my mother wished. I tried not to care when I heard of your sister’s birth. I tried not to give a damn again about anything to do with Elena.” He snorted softly. “Then one day I received another letter from her. She wanted to see me again, even heavy with her second child. She asked me to visit the following month. But the following month, I learned she was dead.”
Cleo’s throat felt thick. For a moment, she couldn’t even attempt to speak.
The king’s gaze locked on the painted eyes of Queen Elena Bellos. “My mother found out about my plans to see her again, and she . . . intervened. And for years I believed her lies about the witch’s curse and that you were the one who killed her. I supposed I wanted to believe it.” He let out a pained snarl. “My mother destroyed my entire life, and I allowed it.”
“She . . . she wanted the fire Kindred to use your body as a host, not Nic’s.” Cleo had been trying to rationalize this since it had happened. “If she wanted ultimate power for you, had planned it all her life, that doesn’t make any sense.”
King Gaius nodded. “I agree, what happened was not according to Selia Damora’s plan. But I know my mother enough to know that she would have found a way to shift control back to me. Back to her.”
Cleo’s mind was in turmoil over everything the king had shared. She went over what he’d just said. “If you believe that, do you think there’s a way to bring Nic back?”
He sneered. “I don’t know, nor do I care about that boy’s fate.”
“I care,” she said. “My mother is dead. My father and sister are dead. My dear friend Mira is dead. And now Magnus is dead.” Her voice broke, and a layer of frost suddenly began to spread across the walls in the alcove. “But Nic isn’t. Not yet. And if there’s something I can do to help him, then I have to try!”
King Gaius eyed the icy walls uneasily. “Are you doing that with water magic?”
Cleo’s hands shook, but she held them out in front of her. The glowing, spidery blue lines had begun to spread over her wrists. “I—I can’t control it.”
“Don’t try to control it,” he said. “Or it will kill you.”
“What do you care?” she spat.
Gaius’s eyebrows drew together. He looked pained. “Magnus loved you. He fought for you. He defied me again and again in order to save you, even if it meant his own destruction. He was worthy of you in a way that I was never worthy of Elena. I see that now. And for that alone, you must survive this, Cleiona Bellos.” Then he scowled at her. “But know this. I would personally kill you in an instant if it meant that my son could live again.”
Cleo didn’t have a chance to reply before the king walked away, swallowed by the darkness of the library.
CHAPTER 11
MAGNUS
PAELSIA
When Magnus and Ashur returned to the walled royal compound by way of the Imperial Road, they found it all but deserted.
Amara and half her soldiers had set sail for Kraeshia.
King Gaius and a handful of others—including Cleo—had left for the Auranian palace.
“Do you think we can trust what he says?” Ashur asked.
“Oh, I don’t know.” Magnus pressed the blade he’d stolen harder against the Kraeshian guard’s throat. The guard had been patrolling outside the gates when Magnus and Ashur grabbed him and dragged him behind a thatch of thorny bushes out of sight of other guards. “He seems sincere enough.”
The guard’s eyes moved wildly between them. “I wouldn’t lie, not to you, your highness. I don’t believe your sister’s accusations about you.”
Magnus sent a sidelong look toward his companion. “I don’t think he’s addressing me.”
Ashur stepped closer. “Amara has accused me of horrible crimes against my family and against the empire itself.”
“And many refuse to believe her. Your sister doesn’t deserve to ascend to empress. You are the rightful emperor of Kraeshia. Say the word, and I will give my life for yours.”
“No,” Ashur said, a shadow crossing his gray-blue eyes. “I want no one else to sacrifice themselves for me. I don’t want the royal scepter my sister desires more than anything else. I never have.”
“Tell me more about Princess Cleiona,” Magnus growled at the guard. “Did Kurtis Cirillo return here? Is she safe?”
“I only saw her briefly when she left with the king’s entourage. Lord Kurtis hasn’t been heard from in days.”
Magnus already knew what had happened during the ritual. After the shocking realization that the fire Kindred now resided within the body of Nic Cassian, Ashur had filled him in on what had happened to Cleo.
He needed to get to her. To see her for himself if she was suffering in any way from this unexpected affliction.
Magnus always believed her to be a goddess; he just never thought she’d become a literal one.
“There’s nothing here for us,” Magnus growled, pulling his blade away from the guard’s throat. “Let’s leave.”
“Your highness?” the guard ventured. “Will you stay? Will you lead us against your sister?”
Ashur didn’t respond to the guard. Instead he turned his back and kept pace with Magnus as they left the compound.
No one followed them.
“Fool,” Magnus muttered.
Ashur glanced at him. “Are you referring to me?”
“You have great power within your grasp, and you consciously choose to ignore it.”
The Kraeshian prince clenched his jaw for a moment before replying. “I don’t want to be emperor.”
“Just because you don’t have a craving for an apple doesn’t mean you need to upend an entire cart of them out of spite.” Why did he even care to comment? Amara and her lust for power didn’t register as important for him at the moment.
All he wanted was to get to the Auranian palace.
That was as far into the future as he currently thought.
They’d walked along the Imperial Road for hours in silence. It would lead them through the Wildlands and into Auranos without the risk of being seen at the
docks of Trader’s Harbor. For every guard who might claim loyalty to Prince Ashur, Magnus knew there were a dozen more who’d been commanded by Amara to kill him on sight.
Magnus washed the remainder of the dirt off himself in the first body of water they came upon. Since it was Paelsia, it was a thin, muddy river.
He hated this place.
Finally, Ashur spoke again. “Are you curious at all about what I do want?”
“I hope you’re going to say a pair of horses,” Magnus replied. “Or, even better, a horse-drawn carriage.”
“I want to find a witch.”
Magnus eyed him. “A witch.”
Ashur nodded. “I’ve asked around to see whether there is one in this land who has enough power to be of help to us. And there is. She’s rumored to be an exiled Watcher who has retained her magic. She lives in solitude, hiding the extent of her magic from the world.”
“Rumors and feathers,” Magnus muttered.
“What?”
“Both usually hold very little weight.” He shook his head. “It’s an old Limerian saying.”
“I was told by a Paelsian woman I met when we were in Basilia that there is a tavern in Auranos where I can find more answers and learn how to contact Valia. We will pass this tavern on our way to the city.”
“Valia,” Magnus repeated. “You even have a name.”
“I will seek her out by myself, if I must.”
“And then what? What exactly do you expect if you do find her and she isn’t some common witch who can barely light a candle with her weak elementia? Do you think she’s going to have any more effect on Kyan than Lucia would?”
“Lucia won’t have any effect on Kyan. Your sister is as useful in helping to save Nicolo as Amara would be.”
Magnus stopped walking, turning to face Ashur. “I believe in Lucia. I’ll never stop believing that she will return to us and do what is right.”
Ashur cocked his head. “You choose to live in a dream when it comes to your sister. Lucia has shown us all what she wants to do—and it’s to help Kyan.”
Fury rose within Magnus in an instant. “You’re wrong.”
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