“Go,” he snapped. “Summon Valia again. If she can help us in any way, I will beg for her forgiveness for how rude I was to her earlier. Meet me at the Silver Toad tomorrow morning. If I’m not there . . . well, you’ll know that the princess is gone, and likely so am I.”
He didn’t wait for any confirmation from the Kraeshian prince. He turned and ran in the direction Cleo had taken, into the woods on the east side of the temple. He ran as fast as he could in the near darkness, trying not to stumble and fall over the roots of trees along the forest floor.
For a moment, Magnus feared he had lost her, but then he saw movement ahead.
If she is the water Kindred, she may be trying to lure me to my death, he thought.
That was not a hopeful thought. Or remotely helpful.
His mind would do well to stay silent for now.
The forest opened to a small clearing at the edge of a twenty-foot-wide river. Magnus staggered to a halt at the tree line and watched Cleo also come a stop, scanning right and left as if looking for a bridge in the meager moonlight.
Magnus stepped out from the shadows.
“I’m not sure it’s the best time for a swim,” he said.
Cleo’s shoulders tensed.
Magnus was ready for anything as she slowly turned around to face him.
In the moonlight, her eyes shone, but their color was lost in darkness—grays and blacks with no trace of aquamarine. The frightening, vine-like lines on her throat, moving up over her jaw to her left temple, were almost black against her pale skin.
“You found me,” she said in a half whisper.
“Of course I did.” His throat thickened, making it hard to swallow. “Is it you?”
She stared at him. “Who else would I be?”
Magnus let out a sharp, nervous laugh at that. “Taran lost his battle against the air Kindred. And then they . . . they took you. What am I to think?”
A small smile touched her lips. “It’s still me.”
The knot in his stomach loosened a bit. “Good. You’re not getting away from me so easily. I swear, Cleo, I will fight for you until my very last—”
And then something hit him hard from behind.
Something sharp and painful.
Cleo’s eyes went wide. “No!” she cried out. “Magnus, no!”
He forced himself to look down.
The bloody tip of a sword now protruded from his chest.
He blinked, then fell to his knees as the weapon was yanked from his body.
Vaguely he registered that the ground was cold and wet. It had started to rain hard, yet only a few moments ago there had been no clouds in the sky.
“I don’t know how you did it before,” Kurtis’s reedy voice met Magnus’s ears as the kingsliege moved out from behind him. “I thought surely your little sister’s magic helped you out of your grave, but that doesn’t explain the alleyway. But no matter . . .” His teeth glittered in the moonlight as he grinned. “You’re dead, Magnus. Finally.”
Magnus’s foggy vision found Cleo still standing at the water’s edge, her skin as pale as the moon itself. Her hair was slick from the torrents of rain beating down.
The ground all around her was now coated with an icy layer.
“I will kill you,” Cleo snarled.
“I know you have no conscious control over this.” Kurtis gestured toward the ice. “So stop being a nuisance and let me return you to your new family.”
Magnus tried to speak, but he couldn’t form words.
“What is that?” Kurtis held a hand to his ear. “I’m always intrigued by the last words of my enemies. Louder, if you please?”
“You thought . . .” Magnus managed, “it would be . . . that . . . easy?”
Kurtis rolled his eyes. “Just die already, would you?”
It took a moment before Magnus felt the wound begin to knit itself together.
The look of utter shock on the young lord’s face as Magnus rose to his feet was almost worth the agony Magnus had just experienced.
“Magnus . . .” Cleo gasped, tears spilling to her cheeks. “I thought yet again that I’d lost you. Just like I lost—” Her voice broke.
She didn’t have to finish her thought.
Just like she’d lost Theon.
“I know,” he said grimly.
Kurtis hadn’t tried to escape. He stood there, stunned by the sight before him. “This is dark magic.”
“Oh, yes.” Magnus moved toward him, his fists clenched at his sides. “This is the darkest, blackest, foulest magic there is. If there is an opposite to elementia, I am in full possession of it.”
He grabbed Kurtis by his throat and slammed him hard against the nearest tree trunk.
“Mercy,” Kurtis sputtered. “Have mercy! I am branded by Kyan’s fire! I have no choice but to do what he says!”
“Did you even know Kyan when you had me buried six feet beneath the ground?”
Kurtis grimaced. “I beg for your forgiveness for every transgression I have ever committed against you. Please have mercy on me!”
“You are a pathetic, sniveling coward,” Magnus spat.
His absolute hatred for this piece of worthless shit who had threatened Cleo and tried to murder Magnus on three separate occasions spilled over.
He had never wanted to kill anyone as much as this.
“Listen to me,” Kurtis sputtered. “I think you will find me incredibly helpful if you let me go—” Then he gasped, a dry, wrenching sound from deep in his throat. “What are you . . . doing . . . to me?”
As Magnus tightened his grip on his neck, Kurtis’s face began to turn gray and sallow in the moonlight. Thick black veins raced up his throat and covered his entire face in a gruesome web. His dark hair turned stark white from root to tip.
The life faded from his eyes.
When Magnus finally let go of him, the desiccated corpse of Kurtis Cirillo collapsed to the ground, his brittle bones snapping like dry twigs.
Magnus stared down at him, astounded by what he’d just done.
“Magnus . . .” Cleo was beside him now, her voice not more than a whisper. “How is this possible?”
“The bloodstone,” he replied softly, sliding his right hand over the ring on his left middle finger.
She looked up at him, her eyes wide. “Did you know it could do that?”
“I had no idea.” He waited to feel horror for what he’d done, but it didn’t come. “All I know is I wanted him dead. And now he’s dead. And I feel . . . relieved.”
Cleo reached out a trembling hand toward him.
“Be careful,” he managed. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
She let out a small, nervous laugh. “I assume that you don’t want me dead as you did Kurtis.”
“Of course not.”
“Good,” she managed. “Because I desperately need you to kiss me right now.”
And so he did kiss her, breathing her in and gathering her so tightly in his arms that her feet lifted off the ground.
“I love you,” he whispered against her lips. “So damn much it hurts.”
Cleo pressed her hands to either side of his face, looking into his eyes. “I love you too.”
She was his goddess. His love. His life. And he would do anything to save her.
On his finger was a piece of dark magic that had now saved his life three times. The one who created it a thousand years ago had surely been a god of death. This had been his ring then.
But now it was Magnus’s. And he would not hesitate to use its horrible, terrifying, incredible death magic on anyone who might get in his way.
CHAPTER 26
AMARA
KRAESHIA