Falling Kingdoms

by Morgan Rhodes

  He regretted saying it as soon as the words left his mouth. She looked devastated by this possibility. Witches were persecuted in Limeros—even if only suspected of witchcraft. It was a dangerous thing to even suggest of someone. Here witchcraft was associated with the goddess Cleiona—an evil act committed in the name of an evil deity.

  “Magnus,” she whispered. “What am I to do?”

  The king would want to know this. He’d wanted Magnus to keep an eye on Lucia—and to report back anything unusual he witnessed.

  This was definitely unusual.

  He paced the length of the room, his mind working and reworking what he’d seen. If Lucia was anyone else, he wouldn’t hesitated in letting his father know the truth. Whatever happened then would be none of his concern.

  “Show me again,” he said quietly.

  After a slight hesitation, Lucia took the flower and placed it on her palm again. She looked at him and he nodded, trying to put her mind at ease.

  “It’s all right,” he told her. “Don’t be afraid.”

  “I’m not afraid.” She said it so firmly that it made him smile. Despite her pretty dresses and the manners of a princess, his sister had a heart forged of steel. His own steely heart pounded harder.

  Lucia turned her attention to the flower. With a small crease between her eyebrows, she focused on the bloom. Slowly it rose from her hand as Magnus watched in stunned silence. It revolved slowly in the air.

  “Incredible,” he breathed.

  “What does this mean?” Her troubled gaze shot to his, and for the first time, he noticed the sheen in her eyes. She might say that she wasn’t afraid, but she was. And she should be.

  “I don’t know.” He studied her face, fighting the strong urge take her into his arms again and hold her tight. His gaze brushed over her features—her small, straight nose, her high cheekbones, her full red lips. His mother’s eyes were a bluish-gray color, his father’s dark brown like his own. But Lucia’s eyes stood out like sapphires—like precious jewels.

  She was so incredibly beautiful it took his breath away.

  “What is it?” she asked. “Do you see something on my face that shows I’m touched by this evil?”

  The king had taken him farther north several years ago to witness the execution of one who was accused of witchcraft. The woman had slaughtered several animals and used their blood to try to summon dark magic. The king spoke with her briefly in private and then made the final judgment on her fate. Magnus was required to watch the execution so he would learn from it. He still remembered the witch’s screams of pain and terror piercing the cold air as she was lit ablaze.

  His father had turned to him and put a hand on the trembling boy’s shoulder. “Remember this, Magnus. One day you too will have to decide the fate of those accused of such darkness.”

  A shudder of fear and revulsion quaked through him. He pushed back from Lucia and went to the door to check if anyone lurked outside. Then he closed the door and locked it.

  “It is elementia,” she said, a catch to her voice. “Specifically air magic, I think—the ability to move things. And fire, too. Cleiona was the goddess of fire and air. And she was evil!”

  Magnus didn’t speak for a full minute, his eyes cast downward at the marble floor. Slowly, he raised his gaze to his sister’s. “Can you lift anything heavier than a flower?”

  “I don’t know. Please, Magnus, tell me what to do. Don’t hate me for keeping this secret for so long. You can’t turn your back on me now.”

  He frowned. “You think I’d do that?”

  “If this magic is evil—”

  “It’s not,” he said firmly.

  She frowned. “Witches have been tortured and executed for what I can do.”

  “If a witch could really do what you can, she would never let herself be executed.” As he said it, the certainly of his words rang true to him. “If anyone burned or beheaded had been capable of true magic, they would’ve been able to use that magic to save themselves.”

  “You don’t think witches are evil?” Her blue eyes held deep uncertainty—and hope. She’d been tormented by this secret she had held inside her for so long without anyone to help her.

  Magnus moved closer to her and cupped her face in his hands. “All I know is that you aren’t evil. You are wonderful in every possible way. And don’t you ever believe anything different from that or I’ll be very angry with you.”

  She touched his hand, leaning into his touch. A sliver of relief slid through her blue eyes. “You mean it?”

  “With all my heart.” He raised an eyebrow. “Would I give such a fine gift as that fluffy bunny to anyone I thought might be evil?”

  She laughed softly, and the sound lightened his heart. “I named her Hana.”

  “Lovely name. For a fluffy bunny.”

  “What am I to do, Magnus?”

  He moved away from her and toward her stack of books. He picked a few, placing them down on her table next to the vase of flowers.

  “Lift these books.”

  Lucia’s eyes widened and she looked down at the heavy stack. “I’ve never attempted anything more substantial than a flower.”

  His jaw tightened. “You need to strengthen your skills. The stronger you are, the less I’ll have to worry about you. If you master what you can do, then you’ll be safe no matter what happens. And I’ll help you practice.”

  He held his breath waiting for her answer. If Lucia really was a witch, with newly awakened elementia, there was no other choice. She had to practice. She had to strengthen her abilities. Because if anyone ever found out about this, especially the king, her very life would be in danger.

  Magnus would never allow his sister to be executed for this. Lucia wasn’t evil. He had trouble believing in the religion that was forced upon all Limerians, but he didn’t have trouble believing in her.

  Lucia’s brows drew together. “I don’t know if I can.”

  “Then don’t do it for yourself. Do it for me.”

  Her gaze snapped to his. “If I do agree to try this, will you do something for me?”

  “What?”

  “Tell me why Father would join forces with Chief Basilius to conquer Auranos. Will there be war?”

  He’d seen Lucia on the stairway when the king had received the message from the Paelsian leader. It was dangerous information for a sixteen-year-old girl to know, but before long she would have learned anyway. It seemed as if Amia was not the only girl in this castle skilled at eavesdropping.

  “Will there be war?” Magnus repeated. “That’s what Father wants. We’ll have to wait and see where all his planning and scheming with Chief Basilius will ultimately lead. But you don’t have to worry about that.” He stroked the long, silky dark hair off her face. “Let’s practice your magic now. You must master it so I know you’ll be safe.”

  “Thank you, brother.” Lucia went up on her tiptoes and brushed her lips softly against his before she gave him another fierce hug. “What would I ever do without you?”

  Magnus’s lips burned from her kiss and his heart felt as if it had been set ablaze—just like the witch once had been. “I hope we’ll never have to find out.”

  Theon Ranus had experienced anger, grief, sadness, and desire many times. But not fear.

  Theon Ranus had experienced anger, grief, sadness, and desire many times. But not fear.

  Not until today.

  “The princess isn’t in her room. She’s nowhere to be found!” The maid’s cry quickened his steps as he made his way down the hall, the maid who was supposed to be stationed outside Princess Cleo’s room during the hours that Theon slept and couldn’t keep watch over her.

  Cold fear crashed over him.

  He knew immediately where she’d gone. She’d done exactly what she’d th
reatened. She’s escaped the palace to go on her journey to Paelsia. Even after he’d refused to accompany her, she’d gone anyway.

  Foolish girl. Strong-willed, foolish girl.

  It was as if his heart had been wrenched from his chest. Then, close on the heels of his fear for her safety, came a hot line of rage that she’d do this, blatantly ignoring his warnings.

  The king had to be told. And Theon knew he had to be the one to deliver the news that Cleo and Nic had disappeared from the palace.

  That was when he began to feel another glimmer of fear. This time for himself.

  “How could you let this happen?” the king raged, his face bright red with anger.

  Theon had no worthy answer. He knew Cleo wanted to do this. He knew she was stubborn and single-minded when it came to her sister’s fading health. He should have anticipated this.

  “I’ll go to Paelsia myself and search for her.”

  “Damn right you will.” There were dark shadows beneath the king’s eyes as if he hadn’t slept well. He looked much older than his forty-odd years today. “Of all the things I need to concern myself with, this only troubles me more. You were supposed to keep her safe. You failed me.”

  Theon could argue that he couldn’t be by Cleo’s side all the hours of the day or night apart from sleeping in the princess’s bed with her, but he held his tongue and studied the floor obediently. King Corvin was not a cruel king, but he doled out punishment when necessary. Failing an assignment to keep the princess safe was not something that could go unanswered.

  Why would she ever do something so foolhardy as this?

  Even he didn’t have to think too far on the subject. She did it because she was absolutely convinced that she could save her sister’s life by chasing after the legend of an exiled Watcher. Breaking every rule to save Princess Emilia was both idiotic...and brave. Pure-hearted and courageous. Only Cleo would do such a thing, Theon thought.

  “I’ll leave immediately,” he said, his eyes still lowered. “With your permission I’ll take a few more men.”

  “No more than two. We don’t want to draw attention to this embarrassing situation.”

  “Yes, your majesty.”

  When the king didn’t say anything else, Theon looked up to see that his face was now more pale and haunted than angry.

  “Sometimes I feel as if I’m cursed,” he said softly. “A slow, hungry curse that has worked its way across my entire life, stripping me of everything I love.” He paused, his brow furrowing. “I met a witch once...in my youth. She was very beautiful.”

  Theon was surprised at the seeming non sequitur. “A witch? A real one?”

  The king nodded with a sharp jerk of his head. “I hadn’t believed in magic until I met her. She had her sights set on becoming my queen, but I . . . well, I met Elena, and that was it for me. The witch was but a momentary dalliance of a youth who enjoyed the attentions of pretty girls before his wedding to the woman who would become the true love of his life.” He let out a slow exhale. “When I ended things with this witch, she was furious. I believe she cursed me. I lost my beloved Elena moments after she’d given my youngest daughter life. Now Emilia is so unwell. I fear Cleo was right when she said she’s dying. And Cleo herself—” His voice broke. “She has a mind of her own, one that will get her into trouble. More than she even realizes. You must find her.”

  “I will, your majesty. I swear I will.”

  “See that you do.” The king raised a dark gaze to Theon’s and a chill went down his spine. “Fail me again and you’ll pay with your life. I’ll kill you myself with my bare hands. Do you understand me?”

  Theon nodded. He expected no less. He left the meeting room, his steps rushed, his heart beating hard.

  He should have said he’d go with the princess. She was stubborn enough to go by herself—with only Nicolo Cassian to protect her. But he was no more than the king’s squire, with no training, no strength, no carefully honed survival instincts. It wasn’t nearly enough. Theon was the one who should be by Princess Cleo’s side no matter what was to come. Today and always.

  The king would kill him if he failed. And if something happened to Cleo...he’d want to die. The thought of her bright eyes extinguished, her merry laugh silenced . . . he broke into a cold sweat and had to lean his forehead against the marble wall of the hallway.

  I’m falling in love with her.

  The realization hit him like a sword plunged through his chest.

  There could be no real future for them. He wasn’t royal—not even a knight. And she was already betrothed to another.

  But he’d seen something in her eyes—a joyful alertness when they argued. A catch to her breath. A flush to her cheeks. He’d come to enjoy spending time with her more than he ever would have believed or been willing to admit, even to himself. He wanted to be by her side and not only as her bodyguard.

  He wanted her.

  But he couldn’t give in to these feelings. Even admitting them to himself was dangerous. For now, all Theon knew for sure was that he would find her and bring her back safely to Auranos. The future was uncertain, but this much was crystal clear. He would not fail.

  The king had summoned Magnus to his throne room.

  Goddess forbid that his father actually visited his son’s chambers. No, instead he had to be summoned quite officially like a servant.

  Irrelevant.

  He took his time to arrive. He would obey, of course. He had no other choice, but even with the king’s seemingly newfound appreciation for his son’s existence, Magnus wouldn’t rush to do so.

  He had spent two days with Lucia coaching her on a variety of exercises to help hone her control and skill. A lot of it seemed to depend on his sister’s fluctuating emotions. When they argued—especially about the subject of her suitors that Magnus tried to discourage—her rising temper helped bring forth her magic. When her confidence wavered, it faded.

  Therefore, he’d made sure that they argued frequently. It didn’t take very much at all to bring a flush to her cheeks.

  It would still take her a while to open herself up to her magic completely. Even if she wouldn’t readily admit this, she feared it. That which one fears, one typically won’t embrace with open arms.

  Magnus felt similarly toward his father.

  “You summoned me?” he said drily when he was finally in front of the king in his throne room.

  King Gaius raised his gaze from the papers he studied and honed in on Magnus like an eagle spotting mildly interesting prey. “It took you long enough to get here.”

  “I came as quickly as I could.”

  The lie slid smoothly.

  “What have you been up to, Magnus? You’ve been keeping to yourself a great deal the last few days. You missed an opportunity to go out hunting with me again just this morning.”

  “I’ve been reading.”

  The king smiled at this, but the warmth of it didn’t reach his eyes. “I find that difficult to believe.”

  Magnus shrugged. “Did you just want to get an update on my hobbies or were we to discuss more important matters?”

  The king leaned back in his iron and black leather throne and regarded his son. “You remind me so very much of myself at your age. It’s truly uncanny.”

  Magnus wasn’t sure if this was meant to be taken as a compliment or an insult.

  “How go your plans with Chief Basilius?” he asked, wanting to shift the focus off himself.

  “Everything is lining up. Don’t worry, my son, I’ll keep you informed of every important step. And I’ll be requiring your assistance in larger matters very soon.”

  Since the position of the king’s valet was currently vacant due to the unexpected death of Tobias, Magnus was certain the king would need a new personal assistant to bridge such a gap. It sounded as
if it would be him.

  “As the king wishes, I obey.” It was nearly impossible to say without noticeable sarcasm. Old habits died hard.

  “I did call you here for a specific reason.” The king studied him for a moment. “What of Lucia? Have you noticed anything unusual about her?”

  Magnus knew this was coming, so he was prepared. He glanced briefly off to the side to see the Damora coat of arms, bearing the familiar words Strength, Faith, and Wisdom. “I’ve been watching her very closely, but she seems just as she’s always been. If she appears distracted to you in some small way, maybe she just has a crush on some insipid boy.”

  “No, it wouldn’t be something as meaningless as that.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t know exactly what I should even be watching for, would I? You refuse to share any details with me.”

  So much for him being a part of the king’s important future plans for this kingdom. Perhaps those were only words. The thought was oddly disappointing.

  The king leaned forward from his plain but intimidating iron throne—the ornate golden, jeweled one Magnus’s grandfather had ruled from had been permanently removed years ago. He pressed the tips of his fingers together. “I think you might be ready to learn the truth.”

  Magnus raised a brow, surprised. “So tell me.”

  “I keep forgetting that you’re not only a boy anymore. You are very nearly a man and as such should be included in everything I do. Honestly,”—the king stood up from his seat and walked a slow circle around Magnus, his gaze sweeping the length of his son with an odd mix of criticism and approval—“it’s like looking into my past. Sabina mentioned this to me only the other day.”

  “Sabina mentioned what?”

  “How very alike we are. You know, I met her when I was not much older than you.”

  Magnus’s stomach soured. “How nice for you. Was she already married back then or did you wait until after her nuptials to bed her?”

  The king gave him a thin smile. “Your tongue is tipped with spikes. But that’s all right. A future king needs every weapon he can get at his disposal. Trust me, when you’re on the throne, there will be very few you can trust.”