“And you didn’t try to stop me.”
His eyes met hers. “Your magic is stronger than any witch’s I’ve ever witnessed.”
“Witches who are willing to do what is necessary can have nearly the same magic as a sorceress. For a short time, anyway.” Her gaze returned to his hand. “Now, about your ring.”
His gaze hardened. “My ring is not—”
Selia brought her dagger down hard and fast, and Xanthus’s index finger skittered across the table, leaving a bloody trail behind.
Xanthus roared in pain and lunged for Selia. “I’ll kill you!”
Fire lit him up a moment later, covering him in an instant. He tried to bat at it, to put it out, but it was too fast and ferocious.
“Come with me,” Selia told Magnus as she snatched the ring off the severed finger and slipped it into her pocket.
Magnus turned away from the screaming man on fire and rushed to follow his grandmother out of the tavern, leaving the other drunk patrons in confused chaos.
“Did I surprise you?” she asked as they made their way back to the tavern.
Magnus had remained silent, trying desperately to compose himself after what he’d witnessed. “I would have appreciated knowing your plans ahead of time.”
“Would you have tried to stop me?”
“From killing a witch and an exiled Watcher? Not at all,” he replied honestly. “I take it the bloodstone is hidden within the ring.”
“It is. I have exactly what we need.”
Magnus wanted the bloodstone for himself, but the thought of trying to take it from his grandmother after seeing what she’d done without barely blinking an eye . . .
Best for the moment, he thought, to stay entirely in the witch’s good graces.
Selia didn’t pause as they entered the inn, crossed the hall to the staircase, and ascended to the second floor. Magnus felt a little unsteady on his feet, thanks to the bottle of wine he’d quickly consumed, but his mind was still mostly clear. As he passed Cleo’s door, he brushed his hand over it, then followed Selia down the hallway and around a corner to his father’s room.
Inside, a skeletal man with flesh the same color as his bleached sheets lay on his bed.
Magnus hadn’t seen his father since their chat in the tavern. He’d gotten much worse. His lips were dry and cracked. The circles under his sunken eyes were as black as the night sky. Even his dark hair had grown brittle and gray. His eyes, the same brown as Magnus’s, were clouded over.
“My son,” the king rasped out, weakly raising his hand. “Please, come here.”
It always came as a shock to him when the king said please.
Magnus reluctantly sat at the edge of this father’s bed.
“I know you won’t forgive me. You shouldn’t forgive me. My choices, especially with you . . .” The king’s milky eyes were glossy. “I wish I’d been a better father to you.”
“Spare me the deathbed confessions,” Magnus said, his throat thick. “They’re wasted on me.”
“Shh, my darling.” Selia sat on the edge of Gaius’s bed, her hand to his forehead. “Save your strength.”
How Magnus had longed to put a sword through his father’s chest, to avenge his mother’s death, to make the king pay for all the years of abuse and neglect. To watch the life leave his eyes once and for all.
But this wasn’t how he’d wanted it to be. Magnus hadn’t wanted to feel anything for this monster except hatred.
“I know you tried to save me,” Gaius told his mother. “It doesn’t matter anymore. You must find Lucia at any cost. You must beg her to help, if necessary. I know she won’t let Mytica fall completely into the hands of Amara. Lucia will destroy all our enemies, and the throne will belong to my son.”
“We will find Lucia together.” Selia slipped the gold ring onto the king’s bony finger, and he drew in a rattling breath. “The bloodstone is yours, my son, just as I promised. Now rest, and allow the stone to work its magic.”
Magnus turned away, conflicted by everything he’d witnessed tonight. The king caught his wrist, forcing him to turn back around.
“They weren’t only words,” his father said, already with renewed strength in his voice and determination in his clearing eyes. “I will be a better father to you, Magnus. Whether you believe me or not, I swear this to you.”
CHAPTER 24
CLEO
PAELSIA
Cleo’s entire world had been reduced to the four walls of her bedroom at the Paelsian inn. The rusty lock on the door was the only thing that protected her from her enemies.
The Damoras were her enemies—not her family, not her allies, not her friends.
And yet she continued to stay with them, feeling trapped, a helpless prisoner who had no say in her own fate.
She wasn’t sure when she finally fell asleep, but when she woke from the tight clutch of nightmares, her tears dried on her cheeks, she realized something very important.