Immortal Reign

“Then find other bodies, if you must.” Her heart pounded hard as she resisted what he said. “Is that even possible?”

Impatience flickered in his brown eyes. “You aren’t listening to me, little sorceress. I am offering you the chance to salvage what is left of this world, to join with me and my siblings as we become all-powerful.”

“With my help,” she reminded him. “With my magic.”

Magic she didn’t currently possess at even a fraction of the strength she needed.

She couldn’t help him even if she wanted to.

“Everything was so perfectly aligned that night,” he said with annoyance. “The sacrifices, the storm, the location. It should have worked. But nothing worth having comes easily, does it? I need you to perform the ritual again, little sorceress—with your blood, with your magic. Fix what your grandmother began.”

Of course this was why he needed her. It was not to apologize and make amends. It was to gain ultimate power.

“When?” she whispered. “Do you want me to perform the ritual now? Will you threaten to kill everyone in this palace if I refuse?”

“You do despise me, don’t you?” His jaw clenched. “No, I will not make any further threats today. I don’t want it to be that way between us anymore. All I need from you right now is a promise to help us.”

“And if I refuse?”

He sent a dark look toward her. “If you refuse, Cleiona and Taran will suffer greatly before they finally lose their fight against my siblings. The air and water Kindred will take control of their new shells. It’s only a matter of days. Then—even if it’s at a slightly lesser level than I’d planned—the Kindred will be reunited. And we will cause great pain and damage to this world that you value, little sorceress. You’ve seen what I can do, even at a fraction of my true strength, haven’t you?”

Suddenly Lucia could barely breathe, remembering the many villages he’d set ablaze. The screams of his victims.

The screams of her victims.

“When?” she asked again, her voice barely audible.

A smile touched his lips, erasing the serious look he’d had a moment before. “Pardon me for being vague, little sorceress, but you’ll know when. You are a part of this—your magic, Eva’s magic. It’s been a part of this from the very beginning.”

Lucia squeezed her eyes shut, wanting to block him out by any means necessary.

“You’ve said what you came here to say,” she whispered. “Now please leave.”

“Very well. Oh, and please don’t blame the nursemaid for leaving the room. She trusts this face. Many do. It’s a good face, don’t you think? Nicolo is not nearly as tall and conventionally handsome as my prior form, but I’m quite partial to his freckles.” He paused, as if waiting for a reply. When none came, he continued. “I will see you soon, little sorceress.”

Kyan left the room without another word, and all she could do was watch him go. When he was out of sight, she rushed to the side of the cradle.

Lyssa was fast asleep.





CHAPTER 13


    MAGNUS


   AURANOS




“I don’t think you understand,” Magnus said to the green-uniformed Kraeshian guard at the palace gates. “I am Prince Magnus Damora.”

The guard pursed his lips, casting an appraising look over the length of him.

“I’ll admit, you do bear a striking resemblance to the portraits I’ve seen of him,” he replied. “But the real Prince Magnus is dead.”

“Clearly, you’re new around here.” Magnus glanced at Ashur, who wore the hood of his gray cloak over his head to keep his face from view.

Ashur just shrugged.

No help there.

“I demand an audience with King Gaius,” Magnus said with as much royal dignity as he had left. “Who is my father. We’ll leave the determination of the status of my existence to him, shall we?”

The guard sighed and waved the pair through.

“He likely doesn’t care if he just allowed a potential assassin access to the palace grounds,” Ashur muttered to Magnus.

Likely not.

Upon entrance into the palace itself, they found themselves in a vast, seemingly endless hallway, every column along its length chiseled with artistic perfection.

Some said the palace had existed in this very place when the goddess Cleiona ruled. Someone had to be blamed for importing this much annoyingly white marble into Mytica.

“Frankly, I’m surprised your sister didn’t take my father’s life when she had the chance,” Magnus said, his voice now echoing against the marble walls.

“I’m surprised too,” Ashur replied. “It’s very unlike her.”

They encountered a guard who wore red as they walked.

“Where is the king?” Magnus asked him.

The guard’s eyes widened. “Your highness! I’d heard that you were—”

“Dead?” Magnus finished for him. “Yes, that seems to be the general consensus. Where’s my father?”

The guard bowed. “The throne room, your highness.”

He felt the guard’s surprised gaze on him as he and Ashur continued down the corridor.

“Limerians and Kraeshians working side by side,” he said under his breath. “How friendly.”

“Amara has no further interest in Mytica,” Ashur said. “I’d be surprised if this occupation lasts more than another month before she requires the full strength of her army at the next place she plans to conquer.”

“Let’s not count it as a victory until it actually happens.”

“No, definitely not.”

Ashur thought it best that Magnus see his father by himself. Magnus agreed. The pair parted ways as the hallway forked into two directions.

The tall doors to the throne room appeared before Magnus, and he came to a halt, taking a deep breath into his lungs. Nervously, he twisted the heavy golden ring on his left hand as he summoned the courage he hadn’t thought he’d need today.

Finally, he stepped forward and pushed the doors open.

The king sat upon the throne, a position Magnus had seen him in—here and in Limeros—a thousand times before. There were six men at the bottom of the stairs leading up to the royal dais, each holding a piece of parchment.

The business of a kingdom must continue, he thought. In good times and in bad.

King Gaius looked up, and his eyes locked with Magnus’s. He stood up so quickly that the silver goblet he held clattered to the floor.

Then he looked down at the men. “Leave,” he said. “Now.”

They didn’t argue. Collectively, they filed past Magnus and swiftly exited the room.

“Don’t let me interrupt,” Magnus said, his heart pounding hard.

“You’re here,” the king said, his voice hushed. “You’re actually here.”

“I am.”

“So it worked.”

Magnus knew exactly what he meant. He touched the ring, then pulled it off of his finger. “It did.”

His father drew closer, his face pale as he inspected Magnus, walking an entire circle around him. “I had held hope for so long that the bloodstone’s magic might save you, but that hope had faded completely.”

“It seems that everyone believes me dead,” Magnus said.