A dark chuckle came from the back of Lucia’s throat. “Little girl,” she repeated, sneering. “You have no idea who you’re dealing with.”
The soldier laughed too, leaning down to get right in her face. “I know exactly who I’m dealing with. A mere child who’s clearly had too much wine. I’m going to give you one more warning. Sit down, and we won’t have a problem.”
Lucia squeezed her right fist, ready to summon fire. She would burn these insolent men to ashes and wouldn’t bother to warn them.
This kingdom belonged to the Damoras. Not to Amara Cortas.
Sera wrung her hands. “Please, do as he says. Sit down and cause no more trouble.”
“You think this is trouble? I haven’t even begun to cause—”
And in one quick, violent burst, a sharp plume of pain exploded from Lucia’s core. She cried out, believing at first she’d been gored through her middle, and her deep wails burned her throat as she clutched at her stomach and dropped to the floor.
“What’s wrong?” Sera gasped.
“My—oh, no. No!” Lucia screamed, the sudden agony now far too much for her to bear . . .
And then the world fell to darkness all around her.
? ? ?
When Lucia woke, she was in a dark room, lying on a firm cot. Sitting in the chair next to her was Sera, holding a cool cloth against her forehead.
Lucia tried to sit up, but failed. Her body was weak, her muscles as sore as if she’d just attempted to trek across three kingdoms in a single day.
Sera eyed her with worry. “I thought you were going to die.”
Lucia stared at her, the horrible knowledge she’d gained in the tavern coming back to her in sharp, jagged pieces. “I’m still alive. I think.”
“Oh, you’re alive all right. And you’re damn lucky, too. When the Kraeshians arrived yesterday, there was a man—a Paelsian who patronized the tavern almost nightly—who stood up to the occupying soldiers. Guess what they did to reward his bravery? They drowned him in a bucket of water. The rest of us aren’t so foolish.”
Lucia stared at her, horrified. “This is wrong. Those soldiers—Amara—they shouldn’t be here. They can’t be here. I need to stop them.”
“I think you have more important things to think about. Like finding that friend of yours?”
She eyed the girl warily. “How do you know finding him is so important to me?”
Sera sighed, then took the damp cloth away. She placed it on the side of a basin, then reached for a glass of water, which she brought to Lucia’s lips. Momentarily forgetting her suspicions about Sera’s preoccupation with Kyan, Lucia drank eagerly, grateful to be able to gulp down the cool liquid, which tasted like life itself to her parched throat.
“I understand why you might be angry with him,” Sera said. “Men are stupid and selfish. They’re not the ones who need to be responsible. They can have their fun with whomever, then wander off to the next girl who looks at them twice.”
“Trust me,” Lucia said with a weak scoff, “it wasn’t like that with Kyan.”
Sera took the empty water glass away and put a fresh cloth back on Lucia’s forehead. “So you just magically found yourself with child, did you?”
Lucia stared at her, mouth open in shock. “How do you—?”
“How do I know?” Sera laughed nervously. “I helped you into bed. I removed your robes so you wouldn’t overheat. The condition you’re in would have been obvious to a blind man.”
Lucia stared at her a moment longer, as Sera reached down to press her right hand to her belly. She looked down at Sera’s hand, and as she took in the silhouette of her body covered in the canvas bed sheet, her eyes widened.
The last time she’d examined her stomach, it had been flat, and her gradually fading magic and morning nausea had been the only signs of her pregnancy.
But something had changed in the time between finding Kyan’s crystal and entering the tavern. Because what Lucia stared at now, with horror in her eyes, was that very same stomach, but it was no longer flat like it was when she’d left the Sanctuary.
Instead, what she looked upon now was a great swell at her middle, an impossibly large belly. And it belonged to her.
CHAPTER 11
JONAS
THE SILVER SEA
Slowly, light returned to his world, and Jonas opened his eyes. Olivia stared down at him, her eyes warm and welling with relief.
“I’m glad to see you’ve finally returned to us,” she said.
He groaned and stretched his arms. “How long was I out?”
“Four days.”
His eyes shot wide open, and he sat up with a jerk. “Four days?”
She grimaced. “You weren’t unconscious the entire time, if that helps. There were times when you woke, delirious and flailing about.”
“No, that actually doesn’t help at all.” Jonas jumped up from the cot and stumbled to the mirror. The strange spiral, much more intricate and detailed in its design than the simple symbol for air magic, was still there. He’d hoped it had just been a bad dream.
“I have the mark of a Watcher,” he said.