“I know,” Kyan said, his voice tight. “And it’s fine, really. However, it has not been without . . . difficulties. All souls of fire are challenging beings, hard to control. But after my little sorceress properly completes the ritual, all will be well.”
Cleo tried very hard not to physically react to his words, but they had shaken her. Did he mean that Nic was fighting him for control?
“I never would have guessed Nic had a soul of fire,” she said instead, as calmly as possible.
“Oh, no? There were many clues of this.” Kyan placed his fingers at his temples. “Memories of his bravery, his recklessness. His tendency to fall in love in the flash of an eye or nurture an unrequited and impossible love over many years. I have his memories here . . . of you, little queen. Much younger, much smaller, yet willing to take incredible risks. Leaping off high cliffs into the sea—your soul of water calling out to you even then.”
That Kyan was able to access Nic’s private memories shocked her. “I have always loved water,” she forced herself to admit.
“Running as fast as many boys could, and willing to trip the ones who were faster than you so you could win the race—including Nic. You’re the reason he broke his nose when he was twelve years old!” A smile stretched his freckled cheeks. “He was mad that it was always crooked afterward, but he never blamed you. Oh, yes, he loved you very much.”
She pressed her lips together, memories of someone she’d lost coming to her as pure and painful as if they’d been yesterday. Good memories of innocent times, stolen now by a monster.
It was jarring to be reminded of such fond memories through Nic’s own visage, as if they might endear her to the fire Kindred who’d stolen her best friend’s life.
“Kyan likes you,” the water Kindred told her. “That is deeply helpful.”
Yes, Cleo thought. It just might be.
Kyan’s gaze grew faraway. “I can see you riding your horse fast and free—no saddle, at least not until your father reprimanded you. ‘That’s no way for a young princess to behave,’ he told you. ‘Try to be more like your sister.’ Do you remember that?”
“Stop it,” she hissed, unable to listen to this anymore. “These are not your memories to tell like they’re nothing but amusing stories.”
“I’m just trying to help,” he said.
“You’re not.” A sob rose in her throat, but she desperately swallowed it back down.
Cleo took a deep breath, fighting to control her emotions before they overwhelmed her.
Kyan’s brows drew together. “This grieves you, and I do apologize for that. But there is no other way this ends, little queen. Allow my sibling to take control of you. It will happen soon, even if you continue to resist. It will be much easier and less painful if you comply. Your memories will also live on through her.”
Cleo clasped her hands together and turned away from him to study the roses carved into the marble pillar. She counted them, getting to twenty before she felt her heart begin to slow to a more manageable rate.
Taran and Olivia watched her every move, every gesture. Not with kindness or understanding in their eyes, but with curiosity.
Much like she would watch a newly trained puppy, amused by its antics.
Cleo reached out and touched one of the marble flowers, the cold, hard surface helping to ground her. “There has to be another way. You’re asking me to forfeit my life, my body, my future, so the water Kindred can just . . . take over? I can’t. I just can’t.”
“This is much bigger and more important than one mortal life,” Taran said.
Olivia frowned at her. “You are only making this more difficult for yourself. It’s illogical and rather frustrating, really.”
“Is there nothing of Olivia left inside you?” Cleo asked, desperate to know how this worked.
“Memories,” Olivia said, her expression now thoughtful. “Just like Kyan has retained Nicolo’s memories of Auranos, I remember the beauty of the Sanctuary. I remember taking flight in hawk form and flying through the porthole to the mortal world. I remember Timotheus—someone Olivia respected far more than many of the others who thought him far too secretive and manipulative. The others all believed in Melenia, but Olivia thought her to be a liar and a thief.”
“Melenia did a few things right,” Kyan said with a smile. “She acquired my first vessel—one that was, admittedly, superior to this one in many ways.”
Again, Cleo noticed a muscle in his cheek twitch.
“Does Lucia know where to find . . . us?” Cleo said, forcing the last word out.
“She will,” he said.
“How?”
Kyan cocked his head, studying her. “I can summon her.”
“How can you summon her?” she asked again.
“Be careful,” the water Kindred said, although its tone held amusement now. “Too many questions and he will lose his patience with you.”
But Kyan’s calm exterior didn’t shift at all. “The magic Lucia has—the magic every common witch or immortal has—it is our magic. A part of each of us is within her and within everyone touched by elementia. I have not been strong enough before to use this ability, but now that the four of us are together, I feel . . . very good. And very strong. When I know it is time, I will summon her, and she will take her rightful place by my side.”
Olivia muttered something under her breath.
Kyan’s eyes flashed from brown to blue in an instant. “What was that?”
“Oh, nothing,” she said. “Nothing at all.”
Kyan turned back to Cleo. He gave her a small smile, but any trace of warmth had disappeared from his eyes. Cleo could see that his patience was beginning to wane. “My siblings don’t share the confidence I have in my little sorceress. Lucia and I have fallen upon difficult times in the recent past, but I know she will fulfill her destiny.”
Interesting. And chilling. Did Taran and Olivia not know that Kyan had kidnapped Lyssa as an assurance of the sorceress’s help?
If Lucia did anything to help Kyan, surely it would only be to protect her daughter.
Cleo believed this almost completely. But the memory of Lucia coming to the Limerian palace as Kyan’s more than willing assistant still colored her confidence in Magnus’s sister.
She desperately wanted to ask where Lyssa was, if the baby was all right and being cared for properly, but she held her tongue.
Kyan would not harm the child. She was far too valuable alive.
At least, he wouldn’t harm her until Lucia resisted his demands.
Cleo needed to keep talking, to draw the truth from Kyan’s lips so she could learn if there was something she could do to stop this.
“Kyan,” she said as calmly as possible.
“Yes, little queen?” he replied.
“At Amara’s compound, you told me that I could help you because I am descended from a goddess. Was that true?”
“It certainly was.” He narrowed his eyes, peering at her as if inspecting her closely. “Your namesake . . . Cleiona herself is your ancestor.”
She gasped. “But the goddess didn’t have children.”
“Is that what you think?” He smiled. “That is only more proof that written history does not hold all secrets to the past.”