Corrupted, Cleo thought as she studied the squiggling lines on her left palm. What a strange word to use for being possessed by an elemental god.
Valoria and Cleiona were enemies, and in a final fight to gain ultimate power, they had destroyed each other. At least that was how the legend went.
She studied an illustration of the goddess drawn by the scribe of the first book about Valoria she’d taken from the library.
The symbols of earth and water magic were on her palms. She had dark flowing hair, a beautiful heart-shaped face, a glowing crown upon her head. The gown she wore in this picture was low enough in the front that it showed off half of the spiral marking on her chest. It wasn’t the same spiral that Taran bore that linked him to the air Kindred; this was different, more complex in shape. Cleo now knew this marked Valoria as a Watcher before she’d become a goddess.
As she flipped through the pages, she glanced down at the goblet of peach cider Nerissa had brought her.
“I froze the guard, I can make it rain, I can coat walls with ice,” Cleo whispered to herself. “Surely I can do something with this cider. Simple magic. Something to show me I have a chance to control this.”
Her heart now pounding, she held the goblet in her hand and focused on the liquid within. She willed it to freeze within its container.
She concentrated until perspiration broke out on her forehead, but nothing happened.
Finally, she slammed the goblet down on a nearby table and let out a small shriek of frustration as its contents splashed over the side. But her scream was cut short by a sensation she’d become entirely too familiar with.
That of a wave of water flowing over her, covering her eyes, her nose, her mouth.
She was drowning.
“No . . .” She staggered backward until she felt the cool stone wall at her back. She pressed her hands against it as she forced herself to take slow, even breaths.
This wasn’t real. She was fine, she wasn’t drowning, she wasn’t dying.
Cleo looked down at her hand to see that the water magic symbol glowed with blue light, and more vein-like lines branched out from the ones already there. The marking now wrapped around her entire hand and forearm.
A chill of dread went through her at the sight of it, and she had a sudden, painful realization of what it might be.
The water Kindred, slowly working its way to the forefront of Cleo’s consciousness.
Fighting Cleo for control of her own body.
Cleo burst from her room, needing to be somewhere, anywhere else. She moved down the hallways of the palace so swiftly she nearly got lost as she tried to find the exit back into the courtyard.
Finally outside, she managed to take in great gulps of fresh, sweet air.
Something moved beyond the trees, and she heard the sound of metal clashing. Alarmed, she drew closer to see what or who it was.
She let out a sigh of relief.
Jonas and Felix were practicing their swordplay under the shade of the arched pavilion in the center of the courtyard.
“You’re getting rusty,” Felix said. He was bare-chested, his muscles flexing as he thrust his sword forward. “Haven’t fought in a while?”
Also shirtless and with his back to Cleo, Jonas managed to block the move with a grunt. “Not with a sword.”
“You’ve been relying on your new girlfriend to save your arse with her fancy magic. It’s making you soft.”
“Princess Lucia is not my girlfriend,” Jonas growled.
Felix smirked at him. “Don’t worry, I won’t challenge you for her. I’m through with complicated women with too much power to wield. She’s all yours.”
“I don’t want her.”
“Whatever you say.” Felix snorted. “I think we’re done for today. You might want to put on your shirt before anyone gets a glimpse of your little secret.”
“Good point.” Jonas grabbed a white shirt from the ground nearby, pulling it on over his arms. When he turned, Cleo saw exactly what Felix referred to.
Jonas’s little secret was a mark on his chest.
The spiral mark of a Watcher.
For a moment, she couldn’t move, couldn’t think. But then Cleo forced herself to follow them out of the courtyard and back into the palace, still unseen by either of them.
They parted ways at a branch in the hallway.
Cleo followed Jonas, hurrying to keep up with his long strides. She followed him right out of the palace and into the City of Gold.
Where was he headed?
As she followed him through the winding streets, she wracked her brain, trying to remember if she’d ever seen that marking before—or if she’d ever seen him without his shirt on.
She had—in the Wildlands, when he’d kidnapped her in a rebel plot to coerce King Gaius into stopping construction of his Imperial Road. Instead, the king had sent swarms of his soldiers out to search for the princess he’d betrothed to his son in hopes of ingratiating the Damora family with their new Auranian citizens.
Jonas had been injured—shot with an arrow. He’d needed Cleo’s assistance to bandage the wound.
There had been no mark on his chest then.
The rebel left the walled city entirely, a bow and quiver of arrows slung over his shoulder. Cleo pulled up the hood of her cloak, staying far enough behind him so as not to be noticed.
He took a pathway toward an inlet the ship that had brought him and the others to Auranos had sailed past on their way to the palace docks. He walked as if he knew exactly where he was going. As if he’d been there before.
It was a small, secluded cove that Cleo and her sister had visited regularly in simpler times, one shielded by a steep cliff. From the small sandy beach, they would watch ships pass by on their way to and from the palace docks.
Waves lapped against the shore of the wide canal, so wide that Cleo could barely see the other side of it. Seabirds waded in the shallow shore water, hunting for food.
Carefully navigating the pathway down to the cove itself, she watched as Jonas paused, aimed his bow and arrow, and let it go. Jonas swore under his breath as a fat rabbit scampered away.
He was the guest of King Gaius with a banquet of food ready from dawn to dusk . . . and he was hunting rabbits.
“Watch your step, princess,” Jonas said without looking up at her.
She froze in place.
“Yes, I know you’ve been following me since we left the palace,” he said.
Feeling oddly exposed, Cleo joined Jonas on the small sandy beach with her head held high. “Why are you hunting rabbits?”
“Because hunting rabbits makes me feel normal,” he replied. “Wouldn’t that be nice? To feel normal again?”
“Perhaps.” She scratched her left arm that bore the twisting, vine-like blue lines. “Please don’t kill anything. Not today. There’s no need for it.”
Jonas paused, giving her a sidelong look. “Do I have to explain to you where the meat on your dinner plate comes from?”
Cleo took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Why do you have the mark of a Watcher on your chest?”
He didn’t speak for a moment, but he put his bow and arrow down on the sandy ground and looked out onto the calm water.
“You saw that,” he said.