Immortal Reign

He hated this place.

Finally, Ashur spoke again. “Are you curious at all about what I do want?”

“I hope you’re going to say a pair of horses,” Magnus replied. “Or, even better, a horse-drawn carriage.”

“I want to find a witch.”

Magnus eyed him. “A witch.”

Ashur nodded. “I’ve asked around to see whether there is one in this land who has enough power to be of help to us. And there is. She’s rumored to be an exiled Watcher who has retained her magic. She lives in solitude, hiding the extent of her magic from the world.”

“Rumors and feathers,” Magnus muttered.

“What?”

“Both usually hold very little weight.” He shook his head. “It’s an old Limerian saying.”

“I was told by a Paelsian woman I met when we were in Basilia that there is a tavern in Auranos where I can find more answers and learn how to contact Valia. We will pass this tavern on our way to the city.”

“Valia,” Magnus repeated. “You even have a name.”

“I will seek her out by myself, if I must.”

“And then what? What exactly do you expect if you do find her and she isn’t some common witch who can barely light a candle with her weak elementia? Do you think she’s going to have any more effect on Kyan than Lucia would?”

“Lucia won’t have any effect on Kyan. Your sister is as useful in helping to save Nicolo as Amara would be.”

Magnus stopped walking, turning to face Ashur. “I believe in Lucia. I’ll never stop believing that she will return to us and do what is right.”

Ashur cocked his head. “You choose to live in a dream when it comes to your sister. Lucia has shown us all what she wants to do—and it’s to help Kyan.”

Fury rose within Magnus in an instant. “You’re wrong.”

Ashur studied him, frustration in his blue-gray eyes. “Where was your sister last night when Kyan was about to burn you? To make you into his slave? Did she magically appear to save you? She doesn’t give a damn about you anymore, Magnus. Perhaps she never did.”

Magnus really didn’t mean to hit Ashur as hard as he did.

But he hit him anyway.

Ashur covered his nose as it gushed blood with one hand and shoved Magnus back with the other. “I think you broke my nose, you basanuug.”

“Good. You were too perfect-looking before. It’ll give you some character.” Magnus started walking again. “I’m going to assume basanuug doesn’t mean ‘good friend.’”

“It’s Kraeshian for the arse of a pig.”

He nodded. “Fitting.”

“Don’t dare hit me ever again,” Ashur growled.

“Don’t speak ill of my sister again and I won’t have to,” he snapped back. “Lucia will return. She will help us. She won’t side with Kyan again, not after she sees what he’s done.”

When it came to his sister, Magnus needed to believe this more than anything else.

Their progress along the Imperial Road was far too slow and tried Magnus’s patience, but they finally entered Auranos.

Ashur’s tales of this witch named Valia had piqued his interest, though he’d never admit it.

Not far from the Temple of Cleiona and the end of the Imperial Road, they came upon the village and the tavern that Ashur sought. Magnus didn’t care about the name of it, only that it might serve wine and good food along with the answers Ashur wanted.

The pair entered the busy tavern and took a seat at a table in a dark corner. They ordered food and drink from a barmaid.

Ashur drew the girl closer. “I’m looking for someone,” he said.

She gave him a flirtatious smile and twisted a piece of dark hair around her finger. “You’ve found her.”

“That’s not exactly what I mean, lovely girl.” He whispered something in her ear.

She nodded. “I’ll see if he’s here, handsome.”

When she walked away, Magnus regarded Ashur with bemusement. “The world’s most sought-after unmarried prince who could have anyone he wants . . . cares only for Nicolo Cassian.”

Ashur met Magnus’s gaze without flinching. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Likely not,” he agreed.

Not long after, the girl brought them roast chicken and a bottle of wine from Agallon Vineyards. Magnus glared at the etched marking for a moment before he uncorked it and took a deep drink, squeezing his eyes shut to allow the sweet liquid to move over his tongue and down his throat.

“I didn’t think Limerians drank inebriants,” Ashur said.

“They don’t,” Magnus replied. “Except for the ones that do.”

He scanned the tavern with impatience and suspicion, waiting for one of its patrons to approach them, ready to fight or kill. But every one of them minded their own business, filing out after their meals, drunk and full.

“Amusing,” Magnus said drily.

“What is?” Ashur asked.

“Auranians have survived very nicely, given all that has transpired in Mytica this last year. They’re still hedonists to their very core.”

“People have different ways of dealing with adversities. It doesn’t mean they’re happy.”

“Ignorance is happiness.”

“Then let’s toast to ignorance.” Ashur raised his goblet. After a moment, Magnus raised his bottle. “And to my sister Amara,” he continued, “who can rot in what Myticans call the darklands—if such a place exists—where she has surely earned her spot for leaving us with such a mess to clean up.”

Magnus nodded. “I’ll drink to that.”

A man approached their table from across the busy tavern. He had white hair, a lined face, and an impossibly wide smile.

“You asked to speak with me,” the man said.

“You’re Bruno?” Ashur asked.

Bruno nodded, his smile growing even wider. “Not just one but two princes in my tavern this evening! How utterly marvelous. I wish my son were here to see this!”

“Quiet, you fool,” Magnus snarled, scanning the area to see if anyone overheard.

“Why should I be quiet about such an honor?”

“Kindly lower your voice,” Ashur said.

“Oh, your accent is just as delightful as they say it is, your grace. My goodness, yes. Lovely, just lovely!”

Magnus placed the edge of his blade against the man’s wrist. “I said be quiet.”

Bruno looked down, his white eyebrows high. “Of course, your highness.”

“I was told that you might have information,” Ashur said, “about how to contact a woman named Valia.”

“Valia,” Bruno said, nodding. “Yes, I know her.”

“I need to speak with her.”

“Valia doesn’t speak with just anyone. She values her privacy.”

“She’s an exiled Watcher? One who’s retained her magic?” Magnus asked in a hushed tone, still resistant to this possibility.

Bruno’s pleasant expression grew warier. “What interest do you have in contacting Valia?”

“I need to know if her magic might help to save a friend of mine,” Ashur said.

“Save them from what?”