Gathering Darkness

by Morgan Rhodes

  Anger flashed in the king’s eyes and Magnus thought he might strike him for speaking his mind. But King Gaius’s fist stayed at his side.

  Almost immediately the anger was replaced with a visage of contemplation. Could it be possible that, for the first time, he would actually listen to reason?

  “I know there has to be a solution,” Magnus said evenly, refusing to give up what little ground he’d gained. “But I don’t believe this is it.”

  The king placed his empty goblet on a table and paced back toward the stairs leading to the throne. “Perhaps you’re right.”

  A small victory. But it was a true surprise.

  “Besides,” Magnus said, gaining confidence “the people of Auranos would find it strange if you were to annul my marriage to the princess so soon after presenting such a pleasant facade during our wedding tour.”

  The king searched Magnus’s face, making him feel self-conscious, like a child caught behaving naughtily. “Have you developed feelings for Cleiona?”

  The question was laughable, especially given his recent and deeply unpleasant altercations with the princess. “She’s a means to an end. That’s all she’s ever been to you or to me.”

  “She’s become a problem.”

  “When has she not been a problem?”

  “A former lord of Auranos,” the king began, “claiming absolute loyalty to me, came forth earlier today to alert me that he witnessed Princess Cleiona meeting with Jonas Agallon two weeks ago in a local temple. He was at the temple to pray to the goddess when he saw the rebel leader enter the building, followed by the princess. They then spoke in private, he says, for several minutes before leaving separately. If this information weren’t so crucial I might have had him executed on the spot for waiting so long to come forward.”

  A welling sense of unease closed up Magnus’s throat. “And you believe this lord?”

  “I’m inclined to consider the possibility that your wife has been feeding inside information to rebels in an attempt to destroy us, yes.”

  “And you have what proof? The word of a man who would wait two weeks to say anything?”

  “It’s enough to make me doubt her innocence.”

  Magnus wasn’t blind about Cleo in this regard. He was all eyes and ears when it came to that scheming girl.

  Jonas Agallon. That name, always that name. Magnus should have killed him when he’d had the chance.

  “Has she confessed to any of this?” he asked.

  “She hasn’t been interrogated yet. In fact, I want you to be the one to question her, Magnus. Immediately.”

  The request was ludicrous and set Magnus’s stomach churning. “You’re telling me you’d like me to casually stroll by her chambers and bring up the subject of rebels over tea? Or perhaps I should wait until this evening when we’re seated for dinner at Lord Gareth’s daughter’s wedding?”

  “She won’t be attending the wedding. She’s currently being detained in a private cell in the dungeon.”

  Magnus went quiet. Of course she was. A traitor and a spy, even only a suspected one, wouldn’t be allowed to roam about freely.

  He wasn’t sure why this had taken him by surprise—he’d never trusted the girl himself—but this? To think that she’d been in contact with Jonas without Magnus suspecting a thing . . .

  Or perhaps his father was just being paranoid, reaching for answers and accepting ones that were lighter than air itself.

  The king put his hand upon Magnus’s scarred cheek, holding his gaze fiercely. “I want you to show me your strength today—a strength I already know you have. A strength I know we share. We are together in this. Do whatever you must to wrench the answers I need from her lying tongue, but in the end, it really doesn’t matter if she chooses to stays silent. Suspicion of rebel leanings is enough to warrant a death sentence. I’ve ordered Cronus to execute her immediately after you finish your interrogation. We’ll finally be free of her.”

  A heavy silence washed over the room. Magnus struggled to find his voice. “Execute her? Is that completely necessary?”

  “Yes, it is. The citizens of Auranos will mourn, but they’ll come to understand that when it comes to treason, this is the only decision we can make.” He patted Magnus’s arm. “Go with Cronus. I have faith in your abilities and your strength, my son. Your future—all of our futures—hang in the balance.”

  And with that, the king left the throne room. Magnus stood there for a moment, reflecting on what had been said, what had been commanded of him.

  “Your highness?” Cronus prompted.

  The king had issued an order. There was no room to argue. “Let’s not delay. We can be finished with this by the time the wedding guests arrive.”

  Magnus had never interrogated a prisoner before, but he’d seen it done. He’d witnessed the effects of torture. In most instances, it took very little to make prisoners spill every secret. For some, the mere threat of pain was enough for them hand over their own mothers if it would save them from any amount of suffering.

  Another guard intercepted them as he and Cronus headed toward the dungeons.

  “Captain,” he said to Cronus, holding up a piece of parchment. “A servant found this. I thought you should see it immediately.”

  Cronus took the parchment and scanned the message. “Has anyone else seen this?”

  “No, sir. I brought it directly to you.”

  “Your highness,” Cronus said, turning to Magnus. “You need to read this.”

  Magnus took the parchment from Cronus and began to read. His heartbeat quickened and his stomach sank further with each word.

  Alexius and I are eloping. Please know that I’m fine, but don’t try to find me. All is well. Better than well. I’m happier than I’ve ever been, so please don’t be angry with me. I love Alexius more than anything in this world and it was meant to be this way. I promise to return as soon as I can.

  —Lucia

  Magnus tore the parchment in two, his hands trembling with rage. He’d known there was something going on between them, but to realize it had escalated so quickly to this inconceivable point . . .

  “Send as many guards as you can spare. Scour the city and find them,” he growled. “And when you do, kindly let me be the first to know, so I can kill the bastard.”

  “Yes, your highness,” Cronus said.

  “Keep this information from the king for now. Don’t tell him until after his wedding speech. I wouldn’t want my sister’s foolish decision to upset him before it’s absolutely necessary.”

  Cronus nodded at the other guard, who then scurried off to arrange a search team.

  Magnus crushed the parchment into a ball and swore under his breath. “I’d go with them, but I have other important matters to attend to, don’t I?”

  Cronus’s tone sharpened. “About the task at hand. I need you to accept that the king has given his order and I will do as he commands. There’s only one way this can end, your highness.”

  Magnus nodded with a firm shake of his head. “I’d expect no less from you than to do as the king commands. My father’s been very lucky to have such a loyal guard all these years, whether or not he’s ever told you so himself. Now, let’s not keep the princess waiting.”

  • • •

  Magnus had toured the main dungeon before, had gotten a good look at the imprisoned rebels and other thieves, murderers, and vagrants who filled the cells of this stinking pit. But today he was taken to a different part, down a darkened hallway and to a heavy wooden door at the far end. The guard who stood outside nodded at Cronus and the prince, then opened the door to give them entry.

  The rest of the dungeon smelled like a cesspit, but this area, which was reserved for upper-class prisoners, smelled only of the dry, woodsy sawdust scattered across the floor.

  The circular room was surprisingly large, about
twenty paces in diameter. Shackles and other restraints lined the circumference. The stone walls were set with torches and lanterns that cast a flickering, shadowy glow on everything.

  And there she was. Directly in the center of the room, her hands raised above her head, her wrists bound by rope and fastened to a hook hanging from the ceiling. Magnus drew closer, and she raised her chin as she watched him approach.

  He saw blood at the corner of her mouth, trickling down to her chin and the edge of her turquoise gown. As he walked around her slowly, he noticed with displeasure that her pale hair was also stained with blood.

  Someone had struck her very hard.

  “Did she give you any trouble when you took her into custody?” Magnus asked the guard at his side.

  “Yes, your highness. I have a wound on my arm where she bit me. Her teeth are very sharp.”

  Magnus wasn’t surprised. The girl would be a fighter until the very end of her life. He couldn’t help admiring her for it. “I’m sure they are.”

  Cleo kept her gaze on his, silently watching him wherever he roamed. He forced himself to look at her not as a girl—his wife—with blood on her face, but as his enemy. The enemy to his father’s throne. To his throne.

  If she had her way, they’d all have been dead by now.

  “So, here we are,” he began. “Do you have anything to say for yourself, princess?”

  “I would demand immediate release and a thousand apologies,” she said curtly, “but I doubt you’d give them to me.”

  This would normally be the point when a prisoner would begin to beg for mercy. But not Cleo.

  “And to think some say you’re not smart.” He tried to ignore the blood on her face. “Let’s get to the point, shall we?”

  “That would be lovely.”

  “Are you working with rebels?”

  She glared at him. “Did your father tell you to come here and question me? And did you accept immediately, knowing you’d have the chance to abuse me?”

  “I haven’t abused you.”

  “Look at me,” she snarled. “You can see for yourself your father’s guards have been treating me cruelly for no reason. All I’ve done since your family stole my father’s throne is try to get along with you. I’ve done what you’ve asked of me so the Auranian people wouldn’t rise up against you, and this is the thanks I get?”

  He wondered how she’d be acting right now if it were the king here instead of his son. “I don’t believe you answered my question, princess.”

  “Why even bother with titles, Magnus? Here in this horrible place where you’ve had them tie me up so I can no longer defend myself, why bother feigning civility anymore?”

  “Very well, Cleo,” he replied. “But you’re wrong about your innocent behavior. You’ve been a problem since the very beginning. My father should have gotten rid of you months ago, and yet you’re still here. Your every waking moment has been dedicated to finding a way to destroy my family.”

  “Not all of you. I considered your sister a friend until earlier today, when she tried to kill me.”

  The mention of Lucia hit him with the force of a blow. “What do you know about what my sister did today?”

  Her eyes flashed. “She’s insane. Her magic’s driven her mad and paranoid and she’s just looking for a reason to be violent with those who care about her.”

  Amazing. She still continued on with this façade of friendship. “You consider yourself one of those people, do you?”

  “I did, until she nearly choked me to death with her magic while her tutor was meeting with the king.”

  What? Cleo must have been with her just before she ran off with Alexius. The thought that Lucia had run away with that exiled Watcher stirred his fury like nothing else. “What did you say today to push her so fully into his arms?”

  Cleo raised her brow. “Alexius’s arms? What do you mean?” Then her eyes narrowed, as if coming to a realization. “It torments you that she’s in love with him and not with you, doesn’t it? How sad.”

  He clenched his right hand into a fist so tightly his short fingernails bit painfully into his palms. “Let’s get back to the subject at hand, shall we? What have you told the rebels?”

  “Nothing,” she said. “I haven’t met with any rebels. I’m a prisoner in this palace and have been for months.”

  “Wrong. You’re allowed access to the temple and that is where you were seen with Jonas Agallon two weeks ago.”

  Her gaze remained steely and determined, never looking away, never flinching. “Lies. Who saw me? You? The king? A guard?”

  “It doesn’t matter who saw you.”

  “Yes, it does. If someone is accusing me of something as serious as this, I deserve to know the name of my accuser.”

  Cronus and the other guard stood silently, watching as Magnus moved close enough to whisper in her ear, loud enough for only Cleo to hear. “Did you tell him about the earth crystal? Is that why it wasn’t there when we arrived?”

  “The last time I saw Jonas Agallon was when I escaped from his rebel camp in the Wildlands, where he was holding me as his kidnapped prisoner.”

  She was very convincing, a skilled liar. He wondered if she’d always been this way, even back before her throne had been taken from her, or if this was a skill she’d only recently developed.

  Or perhaps she spoke the truth and the king was the paranoid one, looking for the perfect excuse to get rid of her once and for all.

  “You said Lucia tried to kill you today.”

  “She did.”

  “Why would she do something like that? Did she suspect you of being more of a traitor than a dear friend?”

  “She did it because she can’t control her magic with him around.” Fresh emotion flashed in her eyes with an intensity that surprised him. “Even with the ring, she struggles with the darkness of her elementia. And I see it in his eyes—he likes that struggle. He wants her to go out of control.”

  “You don’t trust Alexius.”

  “Not for a moment.”

  “Alexius and Lucia eloped today. I can only assume it was he who convinced her,” Magnus said.

  Cleo’s eyes went wide. “What? No, he doesn’t want to marry her. He—he’s using her to find the rest of the Kindred. You’re her brother. You need to help her!”

  “I’m not her brother. Not really. And she’s made it perfectly clear to me that she wants nothing more to do with me.” He glanced over his shoulder at the guards, then returned his attention to the restrained princess. “You and I? I think we’re finished here. You’ll tell me nothing more I need to know.”

  “I know where they’ve gone,” she said, raising her chin. “And it’s not here in the palace city, or any other township in Auranos. Free me from this place and I promise I’ll tell you.”

  He stood in silence, looking from the sawdust at his feet to the princess before him, considering his options. They were few and far between.

  “Are you finished with your interrogation, your highness?” Cronus asked, his sword flashing in the entryway.

  Magnus looked to Cleo. Her eyes flashed with fear as she realized how this was to end.

  “That’s right,” he said evenly. “You’ve been sentenced to death by the king for being under suspicion of aiding a rebel. We will carry out the execution immediately.”

  She began to tremble. “No, don’t do this. You’re better than this, Magnus. You’re not like your father. You’re capable of good, I’ve seen it in your eyes. I know it in my heart!”

  “In your heart?” He laughed, a dry, brittle sound that hurt the back of his throat. “Those are rather flowery words for a time like this, but you should save your breath. It’s time for this to end.”

  As soon as the words were out, Cronus shifted his expression into a battle mask: his eyes cold, serpentine, and free of emot
ion, just as they’d been the day he slayed Gregor. Even when tasked with executing a helpless sixteen-year-old girl, he didn’t flinch.

  The futures of Mytica, the king, and of Magnus himself—they all depended on Cleo’s death here and now.

  She struggled with the rope binding her wrists as Cronus drew closer, as if she had any hope of freeing herself. But even in the face of imminent death, she didn’t cry out. She didn’t scream, didn’t beg.

  Cronus raised his sword, preparing to thrust it through the fine silk of her bodice. He would make it a quick death without excessive pain and suffering—over fast, in the blink of an eye with only a moment of pain to endure.

  But before Cronus could send the blade through Cleo’s heart, he halted for a mere fraction of a second.

  Because another blade found his heart first.

  Cronus gasped, looking down at the tip of the sword impaling him from behind. He dropped his weapon and fell to his knees on the dungeon cell floor.

  Magnus yanked his weapon back, letting Cronus drop fully to the ground as he hissed out his last breath.

  The second guard grappled for his weapon, but Magnus got to him first, his bloodied sword nothing but a flash of metal in the flickering torchlight as he struck him. The confused guard dropped soundlessly and was dead before he hit the floor.

  Magnus, muscles tense and blood dripping from his blade, studied the body for a moment. Slowly, he turned to look at the princess, who was staring at him with shock etched onto her face. A shriek finally escaped her throat as he raised his sword and hacked through the ropes above her head.

  He grabbed her arm and pulled her across the room, kicking the door open.

  “What are you—?”

  “Shut up,” he hissed. “Do not talk.”

  “You killed them!”

  He had had to. There was no other way this could have ended today. He’d run out of options. He’d gone against his father’s direct orders and murdered the king’s most trusted guard, whom Magnus had known since he was only a child.