“I wish I could say the same in return,” Nerissa said softly.
Amara sobered, narrowing her gaze on her former attendant. One who had looked at her not so long ago with kindness and patience. One who had shared stories from her painful past. “You told me that you and your mother survived so much under my father’s reign. You know what it’s like to be oppressed by men, to need to use them to get what you want. I would think you’d understand, if only a little, why I’ve done what I’ve done.”
“What I told you about my mother being a courtesan was a lie.” Nerissa raised a thin eyebrow. “She did what was necessary to survive, yes. But on most days, my mother was an assassin.”
Felix gasped. “You never told me that. We have so much in common!”
Nerissa glanced at him. “Your mother wasn’t an assassin.”
“No, but I am. Oh, Nerissa, you get more interesting to me every day. We could be partners after this. Vigilantes who slay horrible, evil creatures across the world! Although, if we could avoid sea travel, that would be wonderful. I’m still ill from our trip here.”
Nerissa scrunched her nose. “That—all of it—is unlikely, Felix.”
He frowned and brushed his fingers over his eye patch. “Is it the missing eye? Can’t do much about that, I’m afraid. Oh, wait. That’s the empress’s fault too. Another reason she needs to die.” He looked down at his knife, and his single eye narrowed. “I’m going to enjoy this so much.”
Nerissa sighed wearily. “Are you trying to talk yourself into yet another dungeon?”
“Definitely not.” Felix spun his dagger around on his hand with the skill of someone who played with sharp weapons daily. “Before I finally and happily do this, empress, I am obligated to let you know that this is on Prince Magnus’s orders. He’s not happy that you had his father killed.”
Amara finally pushed herself up to her feet, balancing her weight on her good leg. Despite her problems, her will to survive remained as strong as ever. “It wasn’t me. My grandmother enlisted that assassin. I only learned of it when I arrived here last week.”
Felix shrugged. “You say all of that like it matters. It doesn’t. The result is going to be the same. You being dead, that is.”
Amara shot a look at Nerissa. “And you’re going to just stand there and watch him kill me?”
“Yes. I am.” Nerissa crossed her arms and tapped her foot as if Amara’s death couldn’t come soon enough.
“Before that night . . . with Kyan, when I betrayed all of you . . . I thought you believed in me,” Amara said, horrified by how weak she sounded. But it was still the truth. She had no more lies left within her.
“I did. Against my better judgment, I really did.” Nerissa exhaled and shook her head. “But you’ve shown no remorse, no regret. Every decision you’ve made has been for your own gain, and countless people have suffered because of it.”
Felix spun his dagger again. “And you say I talk a lot. Can we end this and get out of here?”
End this.
End her.
Felix had countless reasons to want Amara dead. She actually didn’t blame him at all.
She’d hurt him very badly.
No. She’d tried to destroy him. But he’d survived.
“I admire that,” Amara said.
“What?” Felix growled.
“You. I see now that you would have made a much better ally than an enemy.”
He frowned at her. “I was hoping for more satisfying begging for your life at this point. This is extremely disappointing.”
“It’s over,” Amara said.
“Exactly my point.” Felix gave her a cold smile and stepped forward.
She raised a hand and lifted her chin. “But you can’t kill me. Not right now. Later, perhaps. But not now. There’s far too much for you to do first, and you’re going to need a great deal of my help to do it.”
“Nah. I think I’m just going to kill you,” Felix insisted and raised his dagger.
Nerissa grabbed his wrist in midair, her eyes trained on Amara. “What are you talking about?”
Amara racked her brain, trying to figure out exactly where to begin.
“All right,” she said. “Listen to me very carefully . . .”
CHAPTER 27
JONAS
PAELSIA
They left the inn at dawn.
Mia, the serving girl with amnesia—the one Lucia insisted was an immortal—was already awake, serving breakfast, and she provided them with some stale bread and honey for their journey.
On their way into the Forbidden Mountains, Lucia barely spoke. She moved swiftly along the rough-hewn path, clearly determined to make headway.
Jonas peered up at the jagged black peaks rising all around them and drew his cloak closer around his shoulders. There was a chill here, the temperature far colder than in the small village they’d departed earlier.
It was a chill he felt more profoundly than just on the surface.
It sank deep, all the way to his bones.
“Do you know what I was told as a child about these mountains?” he said, feeling the need to make conversation.
“What?” Lucia asked, her eyes still trained on the path ahead.
He’d all but forgotten them until now—all the stories told by adults to children about the Forbidden Mountains. Jonas never had patience for tales of fantasy or magic. He much preferred to be out hunting, even when he could barely lift a bow.
“I was told that they’re ancient witches, cursed for using their dark magic against the first king of Mytica, just after the world was created.”
“I’ve heard other legends about them, but yours doesn’t surprise me at all,” Lucia said under her breath. “Witches are always blamed for everything when most of them don’t have enough magic to light a single candle.”
“Why is that, do you suppose?” he wondered aloud.
“What?”
“Witches . . . they definitely exist. I know that now. But their magic is harmless, unlike the stories.”
“I wouldn’t say that. Even the weakest elementia can be strengthened by blood, which is apparently how my grandmother managed to help Kyan with his ritual. So if a witch strengthens her magic to a dangerous level, and if her intentions are dark, she is most definitely not harmless.”
Jonas didn’t know how many witches there were—only that if one was descended from an exiled Watcher they had a chance to have magic within them. “I suppose you’re right. And we should be thankful that only you have as much magic as you do.”
Lucia didn’t reply.
“Princess?” he asked, frowning. “You still have your magic, don’t you?”
She flinched. “It’s weakened again. I don’t know how much time it will take to return fully to me—or if that’s even a possibility.” Lucia looked at him over her shoulder. Her eyes were wide and glassy. Jonas felt his heart drop.
“You aren’t just a common witch,” he said, shaking his head. “You are a sorceress. The sorceress.”