But she would never heal from this. She’d experienced so much loss that it felt as if a part of her heart had been gored out of her chest, leaving a bloody wound behind. She would stay here and let Prince Magnus find her. Let him drive a sword through her as well so she could find peace and quiet after all of this chaos and pain.
The hopeless thought only lasted a few minutes before she could hear her sister’s voice in her head, urging her to be strong. But how was she supposed to be strong when everything had been taken from her?
The ring caught her eye. She’d dropped it. The large amethyst glittered in the meager light of the room.
She was a descendant of the hunter—the man from Paelsia who’d loved the sorceress, Eva. Who’d hidden the Kindred after the goddesses destroyed each other out of greed and vengeance. If what her father had told her was true, this had been Eva’s ring—the ring that allowed her to touch the Kindred without its infinite magic corrupting her.
Cleo grasped the ring and slipped it onto the middle finger of her left hand.
It fit perfectly.
If this ring had the power to help her find the Kindred, it also gave her the power to wield the Kindred’s magic without becoming corrupted by it. She could use that magic to take back her kingdom from those who’d stolen it. The thought worked to dry her tears and give her clarity. She wouldn’t surrender. Not today, not ever.
Cleo gazed upon her father’s face one last time before leaning forward to kiss him.
“I’ll be strong,” she whispered. “I’ll be strong for you. For Emilia. For Theon. For Auranos. I swear, I’ll make them pay for what they’ve done.”
Ioannes watched the old woman as she put her laundry out to dry on a line stretched between two withered trees near her humble stone cottage. Her face was grim, and she glanced up in his direction every few moments.
“Be gone,” she said harshly.
He didn’t move from his perch.
“I know who you are. I know you’ve been here many times before.” She put her hands on her hips. “It’s you, isn’t it, brother? None of the others would bother with me now.”
His sister, Eirene, had left the Sanctuary more than fifty mortal years ago. Then she’d been beautiful and young and full of life and would have stayed that way eternally. But now, beyond the veil, she’d become wrinkled, hunched over, and gray from age and hard work.
She’d made her choice. Once one left the Sanctuary, one could never return.
“Are you aware of the war that rages right now?” she asked. Ioannes wasn’t certain if she really believed that he was her brother or if she was slightly mad—a woman who talked to birds. “It will end with blood and death as all wars do. The King of Blood searches for the same thing as you, I know it. Do you think you’ll find it before he does?”
He couldn’t reply to her, so he didn’t bother trying.
“The girl was born. She lives, brother. I saw it in the stars years ago—but you likely know this already. She can find the Kindred. The elders will be pleased to have all restored to normal.”
Eirene’s expression soured. “Without the crystals, the Sanctuary will fade away. I see it in this land. It’s all connected. Everything is connected, brother, even more than I ever believed it was.” She laughed, but there was no humor to the sound. “Perhaps it’s for the best. If I’m to die a mortal, why shouldn’t the same fate be given to all, no matter how long they’ve lived or how important they think they are? All things must eventually come to an end.”
Eirene had left the Sanctuary because she’d fallen in love with a mortal. She’d turned her back on immortality for the chance at love. She believed a handful of years that contained passion and life was better than an endless pristine existence. He’d been disgusted by her weakness then. For a Watcher, fifty years was only a breath of time.
“Beware of one thing, brother.” She glanced over her shoulder at him as she was about to return to her small cottage. “Don’t overestimate your ability to deal with mortals, even the pretty ones. After two thousand years, it could finally be the death of you.”
He still hadn’t told Danaus, Timotheus, or even Phaedra about the beautiful dark-haired princess’s magic. She was too important, and Ioannes had begun to trust fewer of his kind in recent months. He had to continue to keep watch over her. He had to find the right time to communicate with her.
And, very soon, he would have to find a way to kill her.
Victory was theirs. The king of Auranos had been killed. The eldest princess and heir to the throne was found dead in her chambers. But there was still a loose end. Princess Cleiona had escaped the palace.
For such a young and seemingly innocuous girl, she was very wily.