It sounded just like her—more cruel than kind in a moment of great importance. And it helped.
Kindness had never, in Magnus’s experience, brought anyone back from their own death.
Only magic could do that.
Muscles screaming with effort, he pushed further, finally freeing his other arm from the hungry earth. He grabbed hold of the muddy ground and pulled himself upward.
It was as if the earth itself birthed him back into the real world.
He lay there, his arm collapsed over his chest, and forced himself to take deep, choking breaths as his heart slammed against his rib cage.
The stars were out, bright in the black sky.
Stars. He could see stars after an eternity of utter darkness. They were the most beautiful things he’d ever seen in his entire life.
When he laughed out loud at the thought, it sounded slightly hysterical.
Magnus slid his dirt-encrusted fingers over the thick gold ring on his left hand.
“I don’t understand this,” he whispered. “But thank you, Father.”
He wiped at his mud-covered face before he slowly, gingerly pushed himself up to his feet on limbs that had very recently been shattered.
He felt strong.
Stronger than he should have, he knew.
Magically strong.
And ready to find and kill Kurtis Cirillo.
Or . . . perhaps he was still buried, moments from death, and this was only a vivid dream before the darklands finally claimed him.
For once in his life, Magnus Damora decided to be positive.
Where was he? He looked around, seeing only a small clearing with nothing to mark his location or indicate how to get back to Amara’s compound. He’d been unconscious when Kurtis and his minions had brought him here.
He could be anywhere.
Without another glance at his former grave, Magnus chose a direction at random and began to walk.
He needed food. Drink.
Vengeance.
But first and most importantly, he needed to know that Cleo was safe.
He stumbled on a tangle of roots from a desiccated tree as he entered a wooded area.
“Bloody Paelsia,” he muttered with annoyance. “Utterly hateful during the day, even worse in the dead of night.”
The moonlight shone down, lighting his path, now flanked by tall, leafless trees, a short distance from where he’d been buried.
He twisted the ring on his finger, needing to feel its presence again, countless questions arising in his mind about where it came from and how its magic worked. What else could it do?
Something caught his eye then—a campfire. He wasn’t alone. He instinctively felt for his weapon, but of course he didn’t have one. Even before Kurtis had chained him up, Magnus had been Amara’s prisoner.
Barely breathing, he quietly drew closer to see who it was, envious of the warmth of the fire after being cold and damp for so long.
“Greetings, Prince Magnus. Come closer. I’ve been waiting for you.”
He froze.
The voice sounded familiar, but it wasn’t Kurtis, like he’d half expected it to be.
Magnus clenched his fists. If this was a threat, he was ready to kill whoever had issued it with his bare hands without a moment’s hesitation.
At the sight of bright red hair lit by the firelight, relief surged through him, and he relaxed his fists.
“Nic!” Shame slammed into him as his eyes began to sting with tears. “You’re here! You’re all right!”
Nic smiled and stood up. “I am.”
“I thought Kurtis had killed you.”
“It seems we both survived, didn’t we?”
Magnus let out a hoarse laugh. “Don’t take this too personally, but I’m very happy to see you.”
“The feeling is mutual.” Nic’s gaze swept over him. “You’re covered in dirt.”
Magnus looked down at himself, grimacing. “I just dug myself out of my own damn grave.”
Nic nodded thoughtfully. “Olivia sensed you were underground.”
Olivia. The girl who traveled with Jonas. Magnus didn’t know her well at all, but knew she was rumored to be a witch. “Where’s Cleo?”
“At the compound, last I checked. Here, you look thirsty.” Nic offered him a flask. “I know you’re partial to Paelsian wine.”
Magnus grasped the container and tipped it back. The wine was like life itself on his tongue, the purest pleasure in existence as it slid down his throat. “Thank you. Thank you for this. For . . . for being here. Now, we have to get back to the compound.” He sent a look toward the forest surrounding them, but it was all in darkness beyond the firelight. “Kurtis means to hurt Cleo, and I’m going to kill him before he does.”
Nic took a seat across the campfire from Magnus, cocking his head. “That’s right. You don’t know what happened, do you?”
How could he act so nonchalant about a threat to his childhood friend?
Something felt off about Nic. Incredibly off. “What do you mean?” Magnus asked, now more cautious.
“The night you disappeared, your grandmother performed a ritual.”
“My grandmother?” Magnus blinked. The last time he’d seen her was just before his father had angrily sent her away. “Where is she now?”
“Your father killed her.” Nic’s expression darkened. “Broke her neck before she was done, and now everything is going wrong.”
Magnus gaped at him. “What? What are you talking about? He killed her?”
Nic grabbed a stick and jabbed at the fire with much more force than necessary. “Only the sorceress could have performed the ritual properly. I see that now. I was too impatient.”
The wine had quickly worked to ease some of Magnus’s stress, but it blurred his thoughts. Nothing Nic said made sense to him. “What nonsense are you speaking? Be clear. I need to know what happened, Nic!”
Nic threw the stick to the side. “You keep calling me that, yet it’s not my name.”
Magnus hissed out a breath of frustration. “Oh? And what would you prefer? Nicolo? Lord Nicolo, perhaps? You just told me my grandmother is dead at the hand of my father.”
“That shouldn’t surprise you. Your father is a reckless murderer, just like you have the tendency to be.” Nic regarded him for a moment. “It’s time to get to the point, I think.”
There was something in his otherwise familiar brown eyes that Magnus didn’t recognize.
It was the look of a predator.
“Cleo is in danger,” Magnus said, more carefully now. “We need to get back to Amara’s compound.”
“You’re right. She is in danger. And I need you to give her a message for me.”
Magnus’s heart thudded as he studied Nic, trying to figure out why he was so strange tonight. “You’re not coming with me?”
“Not quite yet.”
“What the hell is going on?”
“Only this.” Nic held his hand out, and a flame appeared in his palm. “Have you guessed yet? Or do you still want to call me Nic?”
Magnus stared at the flame as if hypnotized. Then his gaze shot to Nic’s eyes. They weren’t brown like before. They were blue. And glowing.
It couldn’t be.