“From the fire Kindred.”
Bruno twisted his hands, his face paling. “One shouldn’t speak aloud of such legends. The hawks may hear us.” He peered out the window next to them, into the midday sunshine. “Valia hates the hawks, you know. They’re her favorite meal—roasted with sour panberries. I think it’s because of what happened to her hand, you see, although she would never admit such a thing.”
Ashur let out a small grunt of frustration. “How do I contact her? Through you?”
“If you seek Valia, she will know.” He shrugged. “But she’ll also respond to a blood sacrifice along with a recited summoning.”
Magnus pushed his empty bottle of wine away from him. “I think we’re done here.”
“What kind of summoning?” Ashur persisted. “Does she live in this village? Will you let her know I’m seeking her help?”
“I haven’t seen Valia in years. Frankly, I have no idea where she is now. But if you do the blood ritual and the summoning properly, and she is curious, she will come forth.” Bruno turned to Magnus, his smile returning, especially now that Magnus had sheathed his blade. “I saw you on your wedding tour. You and the princess made quite the pair—a portrait of light and dark, night and day. The Prince of Blood and the beautiful Golden Princess. A stunning couple, truly.” He shook his head. “It’s a memory I treasure to this day, despite how much I despise your evil father.”
“Ashur,” Magnus said with an impatient sigh, “I’m going to the palace now. Are you going to join me, or do you wish to call out names while sacrificing random forest creatures?”
“You don’t believe,” Ashur said.
“What I believe is irrelevant. What I need is to get to Cleo.”
“I’ve heard a recent rumor about you, Prince Magnus,” Bruno said. “I’m so pleased to see it’s not true.”
“Oh? And what is it?”
“That you’re dead.” Bruno cocked his head. “You look very well for a dead man.”
Magnus brushed his fingers over the ring on his left hand. “Ashur?”
Ashur stood up, his face etched in doubt. “Yes, I’m coming with you. I can’t waste time chasing after useless stories, and that’s what this sounds like to me.”
Magnus heard the pained disappointment in the prince’s voice.
He couldn’t help but feel it himself.
There would be no simple solution to this puzzle. It had become a giant, complicated ice maze in which one might freeze to death before they ever found their way out.
But Magnus still believed in Lucia.
And he believed in Cleo.
That would have to be enough.
CHAPTER 12
LUCIA
AURANOS
Ever since drawing the truth from Lord Gareth’s lying mouth yesterday, Lucia felt more of her magic slipping away.
She barely slept last night thinking about how to solve this crushing problem.
Other than draining Jonas of more of his strange magic—which would possibly kill him the next time—she came up with no solid answer.
Even Lyssa’s nursemaid noticed the strain and worry on Lucia’s face and told her to go outside and get some sunshine and fresh air.
Instead of ignoring her, Lucia decided to do as suggested.
She had enjoyed the palace courtyard the last time she’d been there, relished in walking its mosaic pathway through the olive and willow trees and beautiful flower gardens tended daily by a full roster of talented gardeners.
The sound of buzzing bees, the chirp of songbirds, and the warm Auranian sun on her face calmed her.
It wasn’t home, but it would have to do for now.
The king said they would stay at the Auranian palace until he found Kurtis, who, perhaps, might return to the palace seeking his father’s assistance.
So be it.
From the pocket of her gown, she pulled out the amber orb that had once been Kyan’s prison. After he’d taken corporeal form, he had kept this with him until the magic from her ring had destroyed that form.
This orb was of value to the fire Kindred.
And it was a threat to him. But only if Lucia could summon the full strength of her magic to imprison him again.
While seated upon a stone bench in the center of the courtyard, she held the small crystal sphere in the palm of her hand and tried to levitate it with air magic.
Lucia concentrated, gritting her teeth with the effort, but nothing happened.
She failed again and again to shift the object even a fraction.
Oh, goddess, she thought with growing panic. My magic is completely gone.
“Lucia.”
The sound of Cleo’s voice made her jump, and she quickly tucked the amber orb back into her pocket.
“Apologies if I startled you,” Cleo said, wringing her hands.
“Not at all,” Lucia lied, managing a tight smile. “Good morning.”
Cleo didn’t reply. She simply stood there, studying Lucia nervously.
She wore a lovely blue gown today with orange and yellow flowers embroidered along the hem of the skirt. Lucia would have envied her for it in the past. Limerians, even royalty, rarely wore bright colors. Lucia’s mother had always insisted on looking proper, polished, and well-tailored—provided the colors one wore were gray, black, or olive green.
Yet Lucia had always been drawn to brighter colors. She had hated Lady Sabina Mallius, her father’s former mistress, but envied her ability to wear red. While it was the official color of Limeros, such a color rarely found its way onto the clothing of anyone but a palace guard.
Perhaps I should have confiscated Sabina’s wardrobe after I murdered her, Lucia mused.
It seemed so long ago—her first burst of uncontrollable magic that had led to a death. How horrible Lucia had felt about it at the time.
But that was then, and this was now.
“That is a beautiful gown,” she said.
Cleo looked down at herself as if just realizing what she wore. “This is the work of Lorenzo Tavera. He has a dress shop in Hawk’s Brow.”
Lucia found she didn’t care about such things anymore, not really.
No, now that Cleo was right in front of her, she had much more important subjects on her mind. Her gaze moved to Cleo’s left hand, the one that bore the water magic symbol. She’d seen the same symbol a thousand times on statues of the goddess Valoria.
To see it in reality, on the palm on the Auranian princess, felt rather surreal.
There were more markings on Cleo’s skin—thin, branching blue lines that extended from the water symbol itself. At first glance, they appeared like veins visible through translucent skin, but they were far more ominous than that.
“I need your help,” Cleo said, simply.
Something caught in Lucia’s chest, something cold and hard and tight.
“Do you?” she replied.
Cleo bit her bottom lip, her eyes cast downward. “I know you hate me for what I did. I convinced you we were friends, and you allowed me to take part in the awakening ritual. When you confronted me about telling Jonas where to find the crystals, I denied it.”