Lucia’s gaze moved around them as they walked past a yard they’d once been seated at together. Cleo remembered very vividly the day they’d shared, part of which had been spent watching a group of attractive young men practice their swordplay.
The yard was empty today, more like a graveyard than a place that had contained so much life.
“What did he tell you?” Lucia asked, her voice low.
Cleo was still hesitant to tell her, but she knew they were each other’s best chance. “The orbs—the crystal orbs. They’re the Kindred’s anchors to this plane of existence. If they’re destroyed, the Kindred won’t be able to walk this world any longer.”
“Anchors,” Lucia repeated under her breath, frowning deeply. “Anchors to this world.”
“Yes.”
“And they need to be destroyed.”
“Yes, but that’s the problem. Magnus tried to destroy the aquamarine orb, but it didn’t work, no matter how hard he hit it with a rock.”
Lucia shook her head. “Of course not. They’re not crystal, not really. They’re magic.” She pulled her cloak tighter around her as if she’d just become chilled. “This makes sense, all of it. I’ve been trying to understand where the Kindred were all this time—this last thousand years. The Watchers and countless mortals have searched Mytica from north to south looking for this treasure.”
Cleo’s gaze scanned the concourse, cringing as she noticed another deep prisoner pit to the north. “But it wasn’t until your magic came into being that they could be awakened.”
“Yes, awakened,” Lucia nodded. “Because that’s exactly what happened. They were asleep, as in not conscious. They had no consciousness like they do now. They’re joined—the Kindred and the crystals. To destroy the crystal is simply to destroy its physical form. The magic would still exist in the air. In the earth beneath our feet. In the water of the sea. And in the fire in the hearth. All would be as it should be. How it should have been from the very beginning.”
Cleo’s head swam with all this information. “I’m glad to see you seem to be understanding all of this far better than I could ever hope to.”
Lucia smiled nervously. “I understand it—but far less than I’d like to.”
“So that’s what we have to do,” Cleo said with a nod. “Figure out a way to destroy the crystal orbs.”
Lucia didn’t reply. Her gaze grew distant again as she paused just steps away from the palace entrance.
Cleo eyed it uneasily, not wanting to enter. Lucia appeared just as hesitant.
“I can try to figure it out,” Lucia said. “But there’s one large problem I can see.”
“What?”
A shadow crossed her expression. “You. And Nic, and Olivia, and Taran. Your bodies—they’re mortal and fragile, flesh and blood. You are the current vessels for the Kindred, and I have no way of knowing if you’ll survive the impact this much magic would have upon you. I saw what happened to Kyan the last time he came face-to-face with counter-magic. It destroyed his shell. And that shell had been immortal.”
Cleo blinked.
But of course, Lucia was right. There was no easy way for this to end.
To destroy the crystals, to send the Kindred into a form of being that had no conscious hold upon this world . . .
It would kill them all.
But it would save her city. And it would save her world.
“I can’t speak for the others, but I can speak for myself,” Cleo said firmly. “Do whatever you have to do, Lucia. I’m not afraid to die today.”
Lucia nodded once. “I’ll try.”
The two continued through the palace. Similar to the vines outside, the walls of the corridors were coated in moss. Flowers grew from cracks in the marble.
Small fires burned, not in lanterns and torches set into the wall, like usual, but in shallow pits carved into the floor.
They passed a room, the door wide open, where a dozen guards clutched their throats, gasping for air.
“Taran,” Lucia said. “He too enjoys using his magic wherever possible.”
Cleo’s stomach lurched. “The real Taran would be mortified.”
“I have no doubt.”
Finally, they reached the throne room.
Cleo couldn’t believe it’d only been a day since she’d been here last.
It looked completely different. The high ceilings were covered in a canopy of vines and moss. The marble floor was now that of a forest floor; dirt and rocks and small plants poked through the surface. Several man-sized tornadoes spiraled and danced around the room, threatening to knock Cleo off-balance if she came too close to them.
Air magic, she thought. The air Kindred was playing with his magic to create yet more obstacles.
She looked ahead to see that the aisle that led to the dais was lined with blue fire, courtesy of the fire Kindred himself.
Kyan sat upon the vine-covered throne with Taran at his right and Olivia at his left.
Cleo’s fury peaked when she saw that he’d found her father’s golden crown and placed it upon his head, just as King Gaius had done when he’d taken over.
“And here she is,” Kyan said without rising. “I was worried about you, little queen, running away like that with no warning. Rather rude, really. And all I’d wanted to do was help you.”
“I guess I am rude. My deepest apologies for offending you.”
“Ah, you say that, but I know you don’t mean it. What do you think, Taran? You know, this little queen was quite enamored with your vessel’s twin brother. I think she would have married him, despite his low social ranking as a mere palace guard.”
“I’m surprised,” Taran replied. “My memories of Theon show that he much preferred tall brunettes, not short blondes.”
“But she is a princess. That excuses a myriad of shortcomings.” Kyan grinned. “Shortcomings, because she’s short. I am very funny, but so was Nic—right, little queen? He always made you laugh.”
Again, a sheet of ice formed beneath her feet, triggered by her rising fury.
“How sweet,” Olivia said. “She’s trying to access the water magic inside of her.”
“Oh, yes,” Kyan said, clapping his hands and laughing. “Let’s see you try. Go on, little queen, we’re watching.”
And she did. Cleo tried so hard to harness the magic within her. To freeze the room solid like she’d frozen the guard. To make the three monsters on the dais choke and sputter on a magical lungful of water, like she’d done to Amara the night of the first ritual.
Cleo thought that perhaps, with this ring on her finger, she might have a chance to control this, to end it.
But she couldn’t. This magic wasn’t hers to yield—not in any way she could control.
The sound within her of the water Kindred’s laugh only made her angrier and more frightened than she already was.
“Now,” Kyan said after he sobered. “Little sorceress, shall we begin?”
Lucia stepped forward. “I don’t have the aquamarine orb.”
“She keeps it in a velvet pouch in her pocket,” Taran said.
Kyan glared at him. “And you only mention that now?”
He shrugged. “My memories are improving. Yesterday was a bit of a blur, to be honest. This vessel fought hard to retain control.”
“But he lost,” Olivia said. “Just as the princess will.”
Cleo clasped her hands in front of her, keeping the ring covered from view. “Will I? Are you sure about that?”