She frowned. “Of course. One day soon, the world will belong to Kraeshia. We will be as one, and my rule will be absolute.”
Mikah shook his head. “There is no need to rule the entire world. No need to possess every weapon, every treasure, every piece of magic one can get their hands on. Freedom is what counts. Freedom for everyone—be they rich or poor. The freedom to choose our own lives, our own paths, without an absolute ruler telling us what we can and cannot do. That is what I fight for.”
Amara didn’t understand. The world he proposed would be one of chaos.
“There is a difference between those who are weak and those who are strong,” she began carefully. “The weak perish, the strong survive—and they rule and make the choices that help everything run smoothly. I know I will be a good leader. My people will love me.”
“And if they don’t?” he countered. “If they rise up and try to change what has been thrust upon them through no choice of their own, will you have them put to death?” Amara shifted uncomfortably on her feet. Mikah raised his eyebrows. “Think about this before your Ascension, because it’s very important.”
Amara tried to swallow the lump in her throat. She needed to block out what he said—to pretend that it didn’t resonate with her.
“Let me ask you one thing, Mikah,” she began. “Had you been successful in your siege of the palace—had you killed my grandmother and then been faced with me—what would you have done? Would you have let me live?”
His gaze remained steady, burning with the intelligence and intensity that made her unable to disregard everything he said as nonsense.
“No, I would have killed you,” he said.
Amara stiffened at his blunt admission, surprised he hadn’t taken the opportunity to lie. “Then you are no better than me.”
“I never said I was. However, you’re too dangerous right now, too intoxicated by your own power. But power is like a rug beneath your feet: It can be pulled away without warning.”
She shook her head. “You’re wrong.”
“Be careful with your grandmother, princess. She has her hands upon that rug beneath you. She always has.”
“What do you mean?”
“She’s in control here,” he said. “You think yourself so smart to have achieved so much in such a short time. Never doubt that everything that’s happened, everything including your Ascension, is according to her plan, not yours.”
Amara’s heart pounded at his words.
“How dare you speak that way about my grandmother!” she hissed. “She is the only one who’s ever believed in me.”
“Your grandmother only believes in her own desire for power.”
It had been a mistake to come here. What had she expected? Apologies from someone she once liked and trusted? For Mikah to prostrate himself before her and beg for forgiveness?
Mikah thought she wasn’t worthy of ruling the empire. That she was as flawed and myopic as her father had been.
He was wrong.
“The next time I see you will be at my Ascension,” Amara said evenly, “where you will be publicly executed for your crimes. All gathered will witness what happens to those who stand against the future of Kraeshia. Your blood will mark the beginning of a true revolution. My revolution.”
CHAPTER 19
LUCIA
PAELSIA
She’d departed the palace with nothing but the dark gray gown on her back and a small purse of Auranian centimos. She’d left everything else behind, including the fire, earth, and air Kindred orbs that were locked away in a large iron box in her chambers.
She’d traveled far enough from the City of Gold that the original rush of panic and fear and confusion had dissipated, and now intelligent thought returned.
“So careless of me to leave them behind,” she chastised herself under her breath, seated in the back of the horse-drawn carriage she’d hired to take her to her destination.
She should have kept the invaluable orbs on her at all times, like Cleo did. The princess had refused the offer to place the aquamarine crystal in the locked box with the others.
Lucia had told no one where they were, trusted no one with the secret.
She prayed this journey would not take her long before she could return.
When she’d realized Lyssa was missing, panic had controlled her thoughts and actions.
Since then, she focused on one thing to help ease her maddening fear about her daughter’s kidnapping.
The fire god believed she had both the means and the magic to imprison him.
If he harmed Lyssa, if he so much as singed a single piece of her downy hair, he would surely expect that Lucia would go to the ends of the earth in order to end him rather than help him.
She believed that the fire Kindred would keep Lyssa safe. The baby was an assurance that he had something that Lucia valued above all else.
It had taken her nearly a week of travel to reach Shadowrock, a small village in western Paelsia. It was one of the few villages in this area close to the Forbidden Mountains, and it had once had a neighboring village five miles south.
As Lucia’s carriage drove past the deserted, blackened remains of that village, she peered out the small window and winced at the sight. She clearly remembered the screams of terror and pain from those who’d made this their home, those who’d watched that home burn or burned with it.
Lucia knew she couldn’t change the past. But if she didn’t learn from it, and do better going forward, then those people had suffered and died in vain.
As Shadowrock loomed in the distance, she glanced down at the palm of her hand. The cut she’d made to draw enough blood in her attempt to summon Kyan would have taken a month to heal, but she had found enough earth magic within herself to help the process along. Only a scar remained, though at her best and most powerful, there would not have been a single trace of the injury.
Scars were good, she thought. They were an excellent reminder of a past not meant to be repeated.
Lucia acquired a room at the inn where she’d previously stayed. It had comfortable beds and decent food. She would rest here for the night before continuing into the mountains tomorrow.
And now, she supposed, it was time to deal with him.
Jonas Agallon had followed her from the City of Gold all the way to Shadowrock, by foot at times, by horseback at others. He’d been far enough in the distance that he probably thought she hadn’t noticed.
But she had.
Lucia had chosen not to confront him and instead allowed him to think that he was as stealthy as a shadow in the night.
She left through the inn’s back kitchen door so he wouldn’t see her exit through the front. Then, she walked up a narrow side-street so she could approach Jonas from behind.
He stood on the stoop of a cobbler’s shop across the street from the inn, leaning against a wooden beam with the cowl of his dark blue cloak over his head to help shield his identity.