“Your highness,” Nerissa said. “With utmost respect, I must ask: Is this the right move at this time? I thought your position was that our focus needed to remain on the Kindred and on helping Cleo and Taran.”
Magnus turned a dark look on the girl. “That is still my focus. But this is also the right move, one that should have been taken months ago. Amara is responsible for countless atrocities committed against innocents.”
“So was your father,” Nerissa said, not flinching when Magnus’s glare intensified. “Apologies, but it’s the truth.”
“I’ll leave immediately,” Felix said. “Happy to serve. I’ve been waiting for this chance.”
“Chance to do what?” Jonas said, glaring at his friend. “Get yourself killed?”
“It’s a chance I’m willing to take.” Felix shrugged and spread his hands. “This is what I do, and I’m damn good at it, your highness. Jonas has perhaps a few too many pesky morals in place when it comes to the thought of killing a woman. But me? Right woman, right time, right blade—or, hell, my bare hands—and she won’t be anyone’s problem anymore.”
“Good,” Magnus said with a sharp nod. “Leave today, and take whomever you need as backup.”
“I’ll need no one but myself.”
“I’ll go with you,” Nerissa said.
Felix rolled his eyes. “What, to try to stop me? To remind me that everyone deserves a shiny chance at redemption? Save your breath.”
“No. I’ll go to make sure you don’t get yourself unnecessarily slaughtered. I came to know Amara very well during my short time in her service. And I believe she trusts me, despite my choice to side with Princess Cleo.”
Felix eyed her with doubt. “You won’t try to stop me.”
“No. I’ll help you.”
“Good,” Magnus said. “You will go with Felix. And kindly let Amara know before she draws her last breath that this was on my orders.”
Felix bowed his head. “It will be my pleasure, your highness.”
Magnus turned as if to leave, but Jonas knew he couldn’t let him.
“Lucia’s gone,” he said.
Magnus’s shoulders tensed. He turn around slowly and glared at Jonas—a look so menacing that Jonas nearly winced from it.
“What?” he snapped.
“She believes Kyan was here just now, that he kidnapped Lyssa. She’s gone after him.”
Magnus swore under his breath. “Is it true? Was Kyan here and no alarms were raised?”
“I don’t know for sure. But Lucia most definitely seemed to think so.”
“I can’t leave. Not with Cleo here . . . not with everything that’s happened today.” A thread of panic had entered Magnus’s deep voice. Then he swore again before he looked at Jonas. “You.”
Jonas frowned. “Me?”
“Go after my sister. Bring her back. You’re certainly not my first choice, but you did it once, and you can damn well do it again. This is a command.”
Jonas glared at him. “A command, is it?”
The fierceness in Magnus’s dark eyes fell away, replaced by worry. “Fine. I won’t command you. I’ll ask you . . . please. I trust you to do this more than anyone else. Please find my sister and bring her back. If she’s right, if this was Kyan’s doing, together we will search for my niece.”
Jonas couldn’t speak. He nodded once.
He would do as Magnus asked him.
But he wouldn’t drag Lucia back here kicking and screaming. He didn’t think he could even if he wanted to. Instead, he would follow her. And he would help her.
And, he thought with pained determination, if Timotheus is right and she ends up using her magic to help Kyan, dooming the rest of the world and everyone in it . . .
He slid his hand over the golden dagger at his hip.
Then I will kill her.
CHAPTER 18
AMARA
KRAESHIA
Amara knew that because of her, a monster was free—one that would destroy the world unless it was stopped. And she’d left the mess behind her for others to clean up.
She’d hoped that the farther she sailed from the shores of Mytica, the freer she’d feel, but the invisible chains tying her to what she’d done did not break even as the Jewel of the Empire finally loomed into view before her.
Her beautiful home would also be destroyed if Kyan wasn’t imprisoned again.
She would have to have faith in Lucia. And in Cleo.
For now, that faith would have to be enough.
Costas, the only member of her guard Amara knew she could trust, remained in Mytica to keep a close watch over the royals. She’d commanded him to send a message of any news, no matter how small or insignificant it seemed.
A celebration awaited her as the ship docked, a crowd of cheering Kraeshians holding up signs proclaiming their love and devotion to their new empress.
“Welcome home, Empress Amara!” they called out to her.
As she disembarked, children and mothers looked upon her with hope in their eyes, hope that she wouldn’t be the same as her father—an emperor who had been focused only on power, conquest, and unlimited fortune.
Amara would be different, these women believed.
Better. Kinder. More benevolent and focused on unity and peace in a way male rulers in the past hadn’t been.
Amara smiled at them all, but found that the tight feeling in her chest wouldn’t ease.
All these people . . . they would all perish at the hands of the Kindred if Lucia failed.
Lucia couldn’t fail.
Amara had confidence in the sorceress’s magic, in her prophecy, in the determination she’d seen in Lucia’s eyes when she’d first entered the compound searching for her brother and father. For a moment, just a moment before the king’s entourage had departed for Auranos, Amara had wanted to ask Lucia if she might heal her broken leg with her earth magic, as a favor.
But she had held her tongue, doubting that the reply would be positive.
“I earned this injury,” she whispered to herself as she leaned against her cane. The pain had eased, but walking was awkward and slow. She shrugged off the assistance of the guards who surrounded her, preferring to hobble along without any help.
She took in the sights of the Jewel on the carriage ride to the Emerald Spear—the royal residence she’d lived in since birth. Sometimes she forgot how beautiful the Jewel was. It hadn’t received its name by accident.
Everywhere she looked, her surroundings literally hummed with life. With lush, green trees bearing flat, waxy leaves, far taller and fuller than anything she’d seen in Mytica. The flowers—mostly shades of purple, which had been the emperor’s favorite color—were each as big as a serving platter.
The air was fresh and fragrant with the smell of the flowers and of the salty sea that surrounded the small island. Amara closed her eyes and tried to focus only on the feel of the humid air on her bare arms, on the intoxicating scents of the Jewel, on the cheers from crowds they passed.
When she opened her eyes again, the palace stretched up into the very clouds like a priceless shard of glittering emerald. It had been her father’s design, built years before she was born. He’d never been happy with it, thought it not high enough, not sharp enough, not impressive enough.
But Amara loved it.