This crossroad was well-lit and impossible for Felix to miss.
While Felix considered himself a skilled liar, he knew that the king might be the one person able to see right through him to the truth.
Felix took a deep breath and gathered every last ounce of courage and bravado he had left. “It’s true, I helped Jonas save his friends, and in doing so I committed treason against you, your majesty. Abandoning the Clan wasn’t a plan I’d had in the works for ages, but it happened. I made a mistake. I came to trust the wrong people—to believe I had a choice in how my future could unfold. But I was wrong. I am exactly what you see before you, your loyal servant who regrets his recent actions and wishes to beg for your forgiveness.”
“I see.” The king pursed his lips. “And where is Jonas Agallon now?”
Felix hesitated. “I don’t know. All I know is that he’s an unlucky, untrained fool who runs headfirst into danger without thinking. That he’s managed to live this long is a miracle in itself. He is no threat to you, your majesty. And his only remaining follower is one equally foolish girl.”
He didn’t like to think about Lysandra. From the moment he’d helped rescue her from execution, they’d argued and squabbled about anything and everything, and he’d enjoyed every moment of it. The girl was a handful and had an attitude harsh enough to reduce any normal boy to a sniveling wimp. But Felix was no normal boy.
And he’d rapidly been falling for Lysandra, with no idea whether she realized it or not.
But at the very first moment of doubt, she’d sided with Jonas. The girl was in love with him, which was too bad for her, since Jonas was already in love with Princess Cleo.
“In summation, your majesty, I have learned now without question that I wasn’t meant for any different life. I’d already been leading the life I was meant to, and had a job I was skilled at. I stand before you today as your loyal servant, with renewed commitment to you, the Clan, and my duties. And I have brought with me absolute proof of that loyalty, something I wouldn’t have if not for my short-term association with the rebel.”
He reached for the air Kindred in his pocket, but found it was empty.
“Are you looking for this?”
Felix shot his gaze up to the throne to see King Gaius, holding the moonstone orb in the palm of his hand.
“Uh, yes. That’s exactly what I was looking for.” Felix was astounded by his own stupidity. Of course Lord Gareth would have him searched him after he’d claimed to have the Kindred.
“Do you even know what this is?” the king asked.
“I do.” Felix nodded. “Do you?”
“Speak to the king with respect,” Lord Gareth snapped.
“Lord Gareth,” King Gaius said evenly, “perhaps you should leave us to speak in private.”
The kingsliege frowned. “I meant no disrespect, your highness. He is the one who’s being disrespectful.”
“My son is currently seated upon my throne in Limeros, but only after having to explain his rightful place to your disrespectful son. If you want to remain in my good graces, Lord Gareth, then do as I say. I won’t ask again.”
Without another word, Lord Gareth descended the steps and slunk out of the throne room.
Felix watched this exchange with a heady combination of interest and fear.
The king rose from his throne and descended the stairs. He stopped and stood just inches away from Felix and raised the moonstone orb to eye level.
“This, Felix, is something I have desired my entire life. But it is a great surprise, to say the very least, to have it delivered to me in this manner. How did you come to acquire it?”
“Jonas received a message containing its location and instructions for its retrieval. We were successful in our search, and then I stole it from him.”
He wasn’t going to admit that he and Jonas had also uncovered the earth Kindred, and that the message was from Princess Cleo. It wasn’t as if he was trying to protect anyone—and he certainly wasn’t trying to protect Princess Cleo, whom he didn’t know from a blond hole in the ground. But he’d rather not give away all his valuable secrets to this powerful man all at once.
The king stared at the air Kindred as if it were a long-lost love that had finally returned. He was so engrossed by it that Felix figured he could slip out of the room without him noticing—if there weren’t a dozen guards behind him, that was.
“There’s only one little problem,” Felix admitted. “I have no idea how to make it, uh . . . work. As far as I’m concerned, all it is is a pretty rock with a swirly thing inside of it.”
“Yes. There is that swirly thing.” A corner of the king’s mouth quirked up. “It’s fine, Felix. I am one of very few mortals who know how to access its magic.”
Felix’s brow shot up. “How?”
The king laughed. “Never mind how. The important thing is that I have it now, and I have you to thank for that.”
“You don’t doubt its authenticity?”
“Not for a moment. I know it’s real. I can feel it.” The king’s dark eyes glittered. “Does Agallon know where to find the other three?”
“Not that I’m aware of.” With this outright lie spoken, Felix held his breath.
But the king only nodded, his attention still fixed on the orb. “Guards, bring the other prisoner in,” he called, then turned back to take his seat upon the throne.
Felix waited silently as the guards brought in another man, dirty and in chains. Despite the prisoner’s thick, matted beard and the wild look in his eyes, Felix recognized him as a fellow Cobra.
“Felix . . . is that you?” the man snarled. “You are alive. You little bastard!”
“Wonderful to see you too, Aeson. How have you been?”
Felix was never very close with Aeson, but he knew him enough to know that he was one of the most brutal and effective assassins he’d ever met.
“I see you remember each other,” the king said. “Well, you might be happy to learn that the two of you have something in common: You both abandoned your duties to the Clan for a time. Aeson has been in the dungeons awaiting his execution for . . . how long is it now, Aeson?”
“Three very long weeks,” he sputtered.
Felix cast a wary glance at the king. “So, what? I’m going to be his new cell mate?”
“No, I have something much more interesting in mind.” He nodded at the guards. “Unchain Aeson and give him a weapon.”
Bewildered, Felix eyed the guards as they swiftly carried out the king’s orders. Now free from his chains, Aeson rubbed his raw wrists and snatched the broadsword from the guard offering it to him.
“I’ve listened to your explanation,” King Gaius said. “I’ve received your gift of this orb. Now, Aeson is going to try to kill you. If he succeeds, he will be freed. If he fails, I may choose to pardon you for your momentary alliance with the Paelsian.”
Felix was certain the roof had caved in on top of his head. He scrambled for words in the stunned silence of the throne room. “But, but . . . wait. Where’s my weapon?”
The king responded with a patient smile. “You don’t get one. Consider this a test of your abilities and your desire to survive.”
Aeson didn’t waste a moment. He lunged, closing the distance between them, and brought the blade down hard. Felix felt the cool breeze brought by the sword as he barely stepped out of its way in time.
No weapon to defend himself, only his bare hands.
This was a test he was meant to fail.
“Last I heard, everyone thought you were dead,” Aeson snarled. “But I knew you’d gone off of your own free will. I could see it in your eyes, it was always there—that wanderlust.”
“You’ve really got me figured out. So what’s your excuse?” Felix walked a careful circle around Aeson, watching his every move, then ducked under the next side-swiping swing.
“I realized that it’s much more profitable to be a mercenary than to kill for the kingdom.” Aeson grinned, revealing a ro
w of broken, yellowed teeth. “Do you happen to know how much certain individuals are willing to pay to have the King of Blood killed?”
“Plenty, I’m sure,” Felix replied tightly.
“A small fortune, actually. I also learned a lot in the dungeons . . . tasty rumors of all kinds.” His glittering eyes narrowed, and he flicked the barest of glimpses toward the king. “Is it true your son recently committed treason, your highness? That he freed a prisoner you’d condemned to death and then they both fled to Limeros? Perhaps you’re losing your grip on your kingdom after all this time. I assure you, it’s a long fall for someone like you.”
“The rumors of the condemned,” the king’s words weren’t much more than an icy hiss. “Sad, really.”
Aeson gave Felix one last crazed smirk, then turned and stormed toward the dais, slicing his sword through two guards, one after the other, who stood in his way.
Felix was after him in an instant. He snatched the sword off one of the fallen guards and took leaping steps toward his enemy, who was fast approaching the king. Then, in a single, instinct-driven motion, he thrust his blade clean through Aeson’s chest. The man’s borrowed sword clattered to the floor.
Felix pulled his blade free. Aeson’s lifeless body fell backward down the steps, landing in a broken heap on the floor.
The remaining guards swarmed Felix. One of them pressed a blade to his throat, hard enough to break the skin and send a trickle of warm blood down his neck, while another disarmed him and a third dragged him back down the steps.
The king was still up on the dais but was now on his feet, clutching the moonstone.
“Release him,” he commanded.
The guards obeyed, but kept their heated glares fixed on Felix.
King Gaius silently regarded Felix for a long, tense moment. He looked perfectly calm for man who’d just been seconds away from being assassinated.
“Well done, Felix. I knew Aeson would use this opportunity to make an attempt on my life.”
“And so you just sat there?” Felix sputtered.
“I was more than ready to defend myself,” said the king, pulling a dagger from his leather surcoat. “But you acted swiftly, and chose to protect me. You passed my test.”
The realization of what the king said slowly sank in. “Well, good then. So . . . now what? What does this mean? Will you pardon me?”
The king re-sheathed his dagger and slipped the orb into his coat. “I’m leaving Auranos’s shores tomorrow at dawn to set out on an important journey. You will accompany me as my bodyguard.”
This unexpected pronouncement stunned Felix every bit as much as a slap would. He grappled to find his voice. “Where are we going?”
The king smiled, but his eyes remained cold. “Kraeshia.”
CHAPTER 6
AMARA
KRAESHIA
I will find you . . .”
This is what Ashur snarled in every nightmare she’d had since leaving the shores of Limeros.
“And when I do, I will tear you apart for your betrayal. I will make you scream for mercy, but no one will hear you.”
She woke with a start, frantically reminding herself that no, her brother wouldn’t find her. Not ever again. She tried to focus on pushing away any remaining doubts she had about her new responsibilities, and what still needed to be done to fulfill them. Nothing else mattered.
Finally, her ship passed through the sea gates and docked at port. She’d returned to the Jewel of the Empire, the capital of Kraeshia.
“Welcome home, princess,” said a familiar voice. Mikah, a palace bodyguard, waited for her at the end of the gangplank. Like all Kraeshian guards, Mikah started his training at the age of twelve—after having been sold to the emperor by his parents—and had now been stationed at the royal residence for a decade. In a way, he and Amara had grown up together.
She raised her chin and did not smile in greeting. “Take me to my father.”
Mikah bowed. “Yes, princess.”
The following journey to the palace went by like a blur. She didn’t bother to gaze at the sights her carriage passed—she’d seen them a million times before, and even her long stay in Mytica hadn’t done much to erase them from her memory. One could get bored even with beauty when one was constantly surrounded by it.
Auranians believed their City of Gold was the most beautiful place in the world, but that’s only because they had never been to the Jewel. Here, it wasn’t gaudy gold or cold marble, but rather the brilliant and diverse colors of nature that ruled.
It was evident everywhere one looked that Emperor Cyrus Cortas favored shades of amethyst and emerald. Huge murals depicting the emperor himself adorned the walls of every block in every neighborhood, painted predominantly in those two bold shades. The streets were paved in beautifully complicated patterns of purple and green cobblestones, and so many citizens of the Jewel daily wore purple and green robes and gowns to try to please their ruler that foreign visitors might think it was the country’s official uniform.
The emperor was passionate about nature and insisted that the conditions be made such that it could always flourish, but he also insisted that every shrub, every leaf and blade of grass, was well-tended and tirelessly manicured. He imported rare plants and flowers from conquered lands. An army of gardeners was constantly trimming hedges and trees into precise geometric shapes. Landscape artists were summoned from all over the world to apply their skills to the Kraeshian canvas. The road Amara was traveling on appeared to be a seemingly endless blanket of beauty, which led straight to the royal residence: a massive green tower; an emerald spear piercing the sky. So it was fitting that the structure was known as the Emerald Spear. Most of those who’d ever seen it before called it a miracle of architecture, constructed with angles so impossible there had to have been magic involved.
But nothing was impossible if you had the resources to scout the best and the brightest, those with true vision and expertise, to do the work. The emperor found these artists and architects in kingdoms he’d not yet conquered, and paid them small fortunes for their skills. They always returned home smiling, eager and willing to come back at a moment’s notice to do more. It had taken more than twenty years for the Jewel of the Empire to reach this height of beauty, but Amara’s father was still not satisfied. Just as he did with everything else in his life, he always yearned for more.
After having grown up surrounded by so much manufactured beauty, Amara had come to want something different. Something that wasn’t necessarily beautiful. Something imperfect, interesting, and perhaps even ugly.
But ugly wasn’t allowed in the Jewel.
“Did you have a pleasant trip, princess?” Mikah inquired after a long stretch of silence.
“I did. And now I’m very happy to be home.”
The orb of aquamarine sat heavily in the pocket of her silk cloak. She wrapped her fingers around its cool surface. For days on the ship she’d tried to unlock its secrets and learn how to harness its water magic, but each time she’d failed. Finally, she’d grown so frustrated with it that she’d nearly tossed it overboard.
Amara inhaled slowly and then let out the breath, counting to ten as she did. She needed to stay calm, to ignore all the disappointment or doubt that kept trying to creep in.
Clear mind, sharp sight. Nothing else would help her now.
The Kindred is real. And it is mine.
She repeated this mantra again and again, until the water Kindred felt fully and wholly hers. She would have preferred to stay in Mytica to find the remaining three, but one would have to do for now. All she needed to do was unlock its secrets.
“Your father has been looking forward to your return,” Mikah told her.
“Really?” A smile barely touched her lips. “He missed me that much?”
He raised his dark brow.
Her smile grew, looking more genuine now. “Don’t worry, Mikah. I’m only playing. I know what to expect from my father. He rarely surprises me.”
Mikah had known her long enough to reply to this with only an understanding nod.
They arrived at the Emerald Spear, and Mikah led Amara to the emperor’s map room.
“Wait out here,” she said as Mikah pushed open the heavy door.
He bowed. “Yes, princess.”
The map room was appropriately named. Underneath the vaulted ceilings and taking up the majority of the lofty space was a three-dimensional map of the ever-expanding Kraeshian Empire, which now made up a full third of the known world. Master cartographers made twice-yearly journeys to the Jewel to update the topography to include any kingdoms or tracts of land that had been newly acquired.
Standing opposite her, on the far side of the map amidst a group of guards and advisors, was Amara’s father. He was engrossed in a whispered conversation with her brother Elan, four years older than Amara and at least four inches shorter. Elan was very thin and frail, and tended to cling to their father like a barnacle to a ship. So unlike her oldest brother, Dastan, the first born and heir, who was tall and handsome, who looked so much like Ashur. They could be identical twins, had they not been six years apart in age.
Amara was grateful that Dastan was currently at sea, on his way home after having successfully claimed a new swath of land for the Empire. She didn’t feel ready to see anyone who reminded her so strongly of Ashur just yet.
“Father,” she called out. He didn’t look up from Elan, so she said it louder. “Father!”
The emperor turned his steely gaze on her. “So. You’ve finally returned.”
“I have.” Her heart pounded, so hard she could barely think. There was so much to say and even more to conceal.
The emperor’s advisors eyed her appraisingly, but neither spoke nor smiled. These men always made her nervous; they were like vultures waiting to pick at the remains of the dead.
“Come here.” The emperor gestured toward her. “Let me see my beautiful daughter up close.”
Perhaps what she’d told Mikah about her father wasn’t quite accurate—her father calling her beautiful was a great surprise indeed. He rarely acknowledged her, and especially not in this way. Amara navigated her way around the map, her left hand gliding over its smooth edge.
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