Being met at the closed gates of this royal compound by a swarm of Amara’s soldiers, their weapons drawn, had stolen what little “calm” she had left in her reserve. She wondered if the rebel was more concerned for Lucia’s life or the lives of the dozens of armed guards that now surrounded them.
“Lucia,” Amara said, drawing the sorceress’s attention away from her far warier companion. The Kraeshian princess leaned on a wooden cane. “Welcome. It’s been a long time since I last saw you. Much has changed for both of us.”
Lucia narrowed her gaze at the deceitful, conquering empress who, by all accounts, was now her stepmother. “My brother and my father. Where are they?”
The flank of guards drew closer, jostling for position, their swords pointed in Lucia’s direction.
Jonas finally lowered the hood of his cloak. “Empress Amara, call off your guards. This isn’t necessary.”
“Jonas!” Cleo gasped. “It’s you!”
The Auranian princess had always been so brilliant at observation, Lucia thought drily.
“Good to see you again, princess,” Jonas said, a smile tugging at his lips.
“You too,” Cleo replied, her voice strained.
Jonas sounded far happier about the reunion than Lucia felt. Seeing Amara and Cleo standing side by side had raised Lucia’s ire tenfold. She’d half expected Cleo to be a prisoner here, at the mercy of the new empress whose army occupied the whole of Mytica, but clearly she wasn’t.
“Your father stood against me. He tried to murder me,” Amara said evenly. “But I assure you he’s unharmed. I’m sure you can understand why I have chosen to keep him under lock and key. He’s a dangerous man.”
That he certainly was, no argument from Lucia.
“I’m sure you’re pleased about that,” she said to Cleo.
Cleo’s glare was sharp enough to cut. “You wouldn’t have any idea how I feel about anything that’s happened here.”
Lucia tried very hard to hold on to her patience. “Where is he?” she asked Amara.
“I will take you to see him myself,” Amara replied, her tone as light and casual as if they discussed nothing more urgent than the weather. “My goodness, Lucia, what a beautiful child. Whose is it?”
Lucia looked down at Lyssa in her arms, her sweet face not showing any distress after her mother had blasted through the locked gates with air magic. In fact, the baby was currently sound asleep.
She raised her gaze to lock with Amara’s. “Take me to him now.”
Amara hesitated, glancing at the large guard standing next to her, and then regarded Lucia again. “With pleasure. Please follow me.”
“Wait here,” Lucia said to Jonas.
Her command was met with a glare. “Yes, your highness,” he said with mock sincerity.
Lucia knew that Jonas was annoyed with her tendency to issue orders at him as if he were a servant. It was a habit more than a conscious decision.
The thought that this morning he’d somehow entered her nightmare still disturbed her. He was a mystery to her in so many ways, but despite this, she’d come to trust and value him.
However, if he expected her to be sweet and polite all the time, he was traveling with the wrong princess.
Their travels together ended here. Jonas would not have to deal with her foul moods another day.
There was no reason to feel regret over this.
So be it.
Lucia sensed something . . . unusual about Cleo as she passed the other princess, but she chose to ignore it as she followed Amara to the compound’s prison area. The empress leaned against her guard as well as her cane, limping as she walked. Lucia concentrated, sending out a whisper of earth magic that helped her sense Amara’s injury.
A broken leg.
Achieving ultimate power over a newly conquered land did not come without injury, it would seem.
As they moved past the dusty villas and cottages that made up the royal compound, Lucia half expected to feel some sort of familiarity with these grounds. Her birth father had ruled from here—a madman who thought himself a god. She knew nothing about her real mother, only that she’d died as well.
Her sister by blood, Laelia, worked as a dancer in a tavern in the city of Basilia on the west cost of Paelsia. Perhaps one day she might go and ask Laelia more questions about her birth family. At the moment, though, her past was insignificant to her.
Lucia focused now on only three goals.
Reuniting with Magnus and her father.
Ensuring Lyssa’s future.
And imprisoning Kyan by any means necessary in his amber orb, which she kept with her in the pocket of her cloak.
Anything beyond these goals was an unwanted distraction.
As they entered the prison, Amara led Lucia down narrow hallways that the injured empress navigated very carefully with her guard’s help. She didn’t complain once, which Lucia grudgingly respected.
They passed many locked iron doors, but Amara finally came to a stop in front of one at the end of the hallway, which she placed her hand upon.
“If you wish to speak with Gaius,” Amara said, “I have a few rules that must be obeyed.”
Lucia raised her brows. “Do you?” She flicked her finger at the door, which swung open instantly.
Amara’s hulking guard immediately reached for his sword.
“Spare me such displays.” Lucia used another blast of air magic to send the sword down the hallway, where it embedded itself into the stone wall, but not nearly as deeply as she’d intended.
Amara’s expression didn’t shift from one of royal composure; however, her lips now formed a thin line. “Your air magic is incredible.”
Not as incredible as Lucia would like it to be. After stealing Jonas’s strange but strong reserve of elementia last night to survive Lyssa’s birth, Lucia had slowly but surely begun to feel it fading from her again.
But Amara didn’t have to know that.
“I will speak to my father in private,” Lucia said. “You should hope that he is as unharmed as you claim.”
“He is.” Amara nodded at her guard, who led her away from the door without another word.
Holding her breath, unsure what she would find within, Lucia turned toward the interior of the cell, unable to see anything within but shadows and darkness.
Amara had kept her father in darkness.
Fury rose within her at the thought.
“My beautiful daughter. More powerful and magnificent than ever before.”
The sound of the king’s strong voice was such a relief that tears sprang to her eyes. She flicked her hand to light the torches on the walls with fire magic.
King Gaius blinked against the sudden blaze of light, shielding his eyes with the back of his hand.
“Father,” her voice broke on the word. She entered the cell completely, closing the door behind her to give them privacy from curious ears.
He had a short beard on his chin and dark circles beneath his eyes as if he hadn’t slept in days.