Frozen Tides Read online

  Timotheus ignored her jab and went on. “I brought you here again because I believe Alexius truly loved you—even before he knew you were the prophesied sorceress. I knew Alexius, better than anyone else, and he wouldn’t have given his love to someone who didn’t possess true worth. He died to save your life.”

  Timotheus’s unexpected words were like a hand thrusting through her chest and tearing out her beating heart.

  She opened her mouth to retort, but found herself unable to find the words. Instead, the burning sensation in her eyes intensified.

  “Tell me, Lucia. Are you finding much joy in the death and destruction you leave in your wake? Do the screams of the innocents Kyan kills lighten your heart, give you strength? Make you feel powerful?”

  His harsh words—words that resounded so strongly with the doubts within her heart—made her breath catch in her chest. But she wouldn’t let him get to her. If she didn’t stay strong, she knew she’d lose all remaining control over herself.

  “Tell me, Timotheus,” she said. “Do I frighten you?”

  He raised a brow. “You? Frighten me?”

  “Does the thought of what I did to Melenia keep you up at night, knowing I might be out in the darkness, waiting to bring about an end to your offensively long existence?”

  “Not nearly as much as you might wish to believe.” Timotheus watched her for a very long time, his gaze steady on hers. “You should know that even when Eva was at her weakest, she never lost faith in our mission to protect the world. She’s the only one of our kind I ever trusted completely. Even after she fell in love with a mortal.”

  The knowledge of Eva’s waning magic had been troubling her ever since Timotheus first told Lucia about it. “I don’t understand,” she said. “If Eva was the first, the most powerful sorceress, how could she let herself be defeated and drained of her magic?”

  Timotheus now had a faraway look on his face. “Her magic was weakened by the half-mortal child she carried within her. A secret she tried to conceal from everyone, including me. When Melenia discovered Eva’s pregnancy, she took it as an opportunity to rise in power by killing her elder, and Eva could not properly defend herself.”

  “So Eva didn’t have a vision of her own future.”

  “Neither have I of mine. But I’ve seen many versions of yours. And I advise you to choose your path wisely.”

  “Tell me these futures and perhaps I’ll understand you better!” The words tore from her throat. “If you want me to do the right thing so desperately that you insist on pulling me into these dreams, then tell me what the consequences are!”

  But Timotheus didn’t reply. Instead, the meadow faded away to darkness.

  Lucia opened her eyes and found herself tucked into her bed at the inn.

  “Many versions of my future . . .” she whispered aloud.

  Suddenly, a violent wave of nausea hit her. She ran to the chamber pot, and barely made it there before she threw up. This was the third morning in a row that this had happened, and she knew this sickness had likely contributed to her weakening magic.

  She hadn’t felt this lousy in . . . well, ever.

  And she hated feeling weak.

  “Stupid Timotheus.” She sat there, on the floor of her small room, and pulled her knees up against her chest, rocking herself back and forth. As she waited for the next wave of nausea to pass she remembered what the immortal had told her about the original sorceress.

  Despite her vast power, despite her immortality, Eva’s magic had faded when a half-mortal child grew within her.

  Lucia thought her magic, too, appeared to be fading.

  She drew in a sudden, sharp breath and held it for so long that she began to feel dizzy.

  “Oh, goddess,” she whispered. “I’m pregnant.”

  CHAPTER 26

  CLEO

  LIMEROS

  Ever since Jonas and Nic had left for Kraeshia, Cleo had been paying extra attention in her archery lessons. But still her skills did not improve.

  Between her disappointment in herself and Lord Kurtis’s increasingly insufferable and constant need to malign Magnus and the sorry state of Limeros now that he was no longer in charge, her patience had finally worn out.

  So this morning, after a particularly frustrating hour of missed targets and Lord Kurtis’s whining, she quit.

  Cleo returned to her chambers, flinging off her gloves and cloak, and sat down on the edge of her bed. From there she could see herself in the vanity mirror.

  “What am I still doing here?” she asked her reflection.

  Nerissa had gently asked her that very same question only yesterday.

  She didn’t have an acceptable answer then, and she found she still didn’t have one today, not even for herself. What was her purpose in this cold, stark palace? It wasn’t as if she would lose her royal position if she were to leave.

  All she was doing here was wasting time, waiting and waiting. . . .

  Enough waiting.

  She was deeply saddened to learn that Eirene, the exiled Watcher, had died, but she was not at all surprised—Eirene had been very old when Cleo had seen her last.

  And all it meant was that now Cleo would have to find another exiled Watcher, and get the answers for herself.

  She went to the window and lifted up a loose stone on the sill, under which she’d hidden the obsidian orb.

  But the nook beneath was empty.

  She blinked, the sight of the shadowy hollow still not fully registering. Of course the Kindred should be there; she hadn’t moved it. She turned in a circle, scanning the room, trying to see if something had changed.

  “No. It was here.” She looked under the sill again, but there was no black orb to be found.

  Her heart began to race.

  The Kindred had disappeared.

  Someone had stolen it. But who?

  Certainly not Nerissa, the only other person who was aware of the hiding spot. Cleo trusted Nerissa completely and refused to doubt her.

  Perhaps a maid or servant had come across it by accident while tidying up? But if that was the case, why would they steal such a thing? To an uninformed commoner, the orb would seem nothing more than a very large marble.

  “Who could have done this?” she whispered aloud. Who else knew about the Kindred, would risk their lives by searching her private chambers to find it?

  Then, in an icy flash, the answer came to her.

  • • •

  She approached the throne room at a brisk pace, the guards opening the doors for her before she even had to ask. Magnus was inside, waiting for her, seated upon his father’s iron throne.

  The prince wore black from head to toe, as he always did, as if in an attempt to blend in with the throne, the room, the entire palace. But despite all of this darkness, she spotted the earth Kindred immediately. Magnus held it in his right hand.

  “Look what I found,” he said, tossing it up and down as Cleo approached the throne. “Shockingly, it was in your quarters. Did you have any idea it was hiding there?”

  “That belongs to me,” she hissed.

  “Actually, princess, it was in my palace, so that means it belongs to me.” He held the orb up in front of this face and studied it. “Obsidian is such a beautiful color, isn’t it? I’m going to assume that Agallon brought this to you.”

  She stayed silent and resolute, her jaw tense and her arms crossed in front of her.

  “Oh, princess, silence will not do you any favors today.”

  “I find I have very little to say on the subject.”

  “That’s all right. I have plenty to say; I’ll do the talking for both of us. What I hold in my hand is solid proof that you’re an unrelenting liar, that you’re still aligned with rebels, and that you continue to keep essential information from me. You knew exactly why this Kindred was missing from the Temple of Cleiona when we arrived to claim it. Why didn’t you tell me about this?”

  A humorless grunt of laughter escaped her throat. “
Why would I? Despite your pretty promises to me, and your verbal agreements with Jonas, you’ve always made it very clear that we’re enemies—today, tomorrow, and always.”

  “And how, precisely, have I made that clear? Was it the time I spared your little rebel friend from execution? Or was it my offer to return your kingdom to you? Shall I go on?”

  “Magnus, you can’t honestly expect me to believe your promises. Restore my kingdom to me? After all the lies you’ve told in the past? All the betrayals?”

  His gaze grew colder. “I meant every word of that offer. And if there’s anyone who knows that I’m capable of being a man of my word, it’s you. But now?” He indicated the orb. “I’ve changed my mind. Mytica—all of it—will be mine. All mine. Yes, that sounds much better to me. I’ve never really liked to share my toys.”

  She took a few steps closer to the dais and looked up at him, frowning. “You’re right,” she said. “Perhaps I should apologize.”

  He blinked. “What?”

  “It’s clear to me that I’ve hurt you.”

  He scoffed. “You could never hurt me, princess.”

  Cleo shook her head. “I think you’re hurt by everybody. That’s why you act like this. You try to be as cruel and cold and horrible as possible so no one will get close to you. Because when they do, when you let people in, you get hurt.”

  Magnus let out one harsh, cold laugh. “Much gratitude for your opinions, princess, but you’re wrong.”

  “I’m not blind, Magnus. I saw what happened between you and Lucia when she came here. Your heart broke to see your sister like that, when all you wanted to do was help her.”

  “Lucia is different. Whatever she does, she’s family. But she’s made it clear she doesn’t need or want my help, and I’ll never make that mistake again.”

  “It doesn’t change how you really feel.”

  Magnus stood up and descended the steps. “I’ve grown bored of this conversation. You can try to manipulate me all you want, but the facts of this situation remain. You are a deceitful wench, and the earth Kindred is now mine.”

  “Very well. I wish you the best of luck accessing its magic. It’s impossible. I’ve tried everything.”

  “I assumed as much. Otherwise, I’d be dead and buried by now, wouldn’t I?”

  “You think I want you dead? Even now?”

  Magnus sighed. “You really do need to make up your mind on that subject, princess. Your duplicity is dizzying.”

  “Fine. Yes. I kept the Kindred from you. I did—and do—plan to use its magic to get my kingdom back. There. That’s the truth. I’m finished with lies—what good have they done me? So now that you know, why don’t you throw me in the dungeon? Demand my head?”

  “You love to try my patience,” he gritted out.

  “You won’t have me killed for this. Because, despite all of our differences, we are aligned. And maybe it’s time we started to trust each other.”

  The more she spoke, the more she realized she was actually telling the truth. Magnus wasn’t evil like his father. He never had been. She’d heard him try to reason with the council. She’d seen how much he cared about this kingdom. And she was certain that he would never try to harm her, no matter what she said or did. All of this, this cold, seemingly impenetrable façade, was just that: a thin shell protecting the genuine soul that lay beneath.

  “How curious that you’ve come to this monumental realization only after I found the orb.”

  But he truly was infuriating sometimes.

  “Kurtis came to see me earlier,” Magnus said, before Cleo could reply. “Do you know why?”

  “To tell you I’ve quit archery?”

  “No, but it’s adorable that you think I’d care about something so trivial. Kurtis came to me because he wanted me to know he’d been discussing politics with you. He told me about all the issues you and he seem to agree upon, my being unfit to rule Limeros being one of them.”

  Cleo waved her hand dismissively. “He greatly exaggerates.”

  “Does he? Or is this another little partnership you’ve hidden from me?”

  “Can’t you see that I’m here today trying to right the wrongs between us, Magnus?” she said, her patience wearing thin and brittle. “But you refuse to let me.”

  “If I told you about the things Kurtis has done in the past, you wouldn’t want to go anywhere near him.”

  If Magnus refused to play nice, neither would she. “I suppose that’s something you two have in common, then.”

  Magnus furrowed his brow, as if confused. “When we were children, Kurtis used to enjoy murdering animals, watching them suffer.”

  The thought of having spent so much time with a deranged young man sickened her. But Magnus couldn’t possibly be telling her the truth. She decided to send a jab right back at him. “And you, on the other hand, enjoy murdering people I love. Which pastime is worse?”

  Magnus glared at her with sudden fury. “You pretend to know me? You spit out venom like that moments after trying to gain my confidence, and all it shows is that you don’t know me at all. You want this orb so badly, do you? Perhaps we can split it.”

  He turned, a look of rage still fixed on his face, and threw the earth Kindred against the stone wall. All went silent as he looked down at his empty hand in shock.

  A moment later, the ground began to rumble beneath their feet.

  “No,” he whispered.

  Cleo’s heart leapt into her throat. Her memory shot back to their wedding day, and the elemental earthquake that had destroyed the Temple of Cleiona, killing so many.

  Frozen with fear, she watched as a gaping crack snaked across the floor, creating a deep rift in the stone that separated her and Magnus, then traveling up to the spot on the wall where the orb had made contact.

  Then, as suddenly as the quake had started, the earth ceased shaking.

  Cleo covered her mouth as relief flowed over and through her.

  Magnus darted toward the orb and picked it up, inspecting it closely. “It’s not damaged at all.”

  Cleo drew closer to see for herself. He was right; though the room was now in chaotic disrepair, the Kindred itself had remained fully intact. The thread of magic within it now spun faster, more frantically, than she’d seen it before.

  “I think you made it mad,” she said, breathlessly.

  “For a moment, I thought—” Magnus locked his gaze with hers and his brows drew together. “Cleo . . .”

  A loud squawk startled them.

  They turned to see a hawk come to perch on a windowsill. It looked in at them with a cocked head, then flapped its wings, flew up and in through the window, and swooped toward them, so close that they both had to duck. The hawk dropped something onto the council table and then, after one final squawk, flew back out the window.

  Magnus stared after it, jaw slack. “That’s never happened before.”

  He picked up the piece of parchment the hawk had left behind, unrolled it, and read the message.

  When he finished, he swore loudly, then roughly handed the message to Cleo.

  Prince Magnus—

  I write to warn you that the king will be arriving on Mytican shores very soon, followed by a Kraeshian armada of twenty ships. Your father believes he has entered into an agreement that will make Mytica a part of the Kraeshian Empire, with him ruling over all. But he’s wrong. Amara has poisoned her family—the emperor and her brothers—and is now Empress of Kraeshia. She’s interested in Mytica only for its magic. She will stop at nothing to possess it. The king will come to Mytica bearing news of a peaceful occupation, but because of Amara, we believe it will be anything but.

  We will return as soon as we can.—Jonas

  Cleo’s hands trembled as she placed Jonas’s message back on the table.

  “I had no idea my father was this stupid,” Magnus said.

  “We need to warn everyone that we may soon be under attack,” Cleo said.

  “I agree with Agallon that my fath
er has done nothing to earn a reputation as a peaceful ruler . . . but I don’t believe that he would just stand by and let Amara have her way with Mytica. Perhaps he agreed to this under duress. Perhaps he has another plan, and he’ll come straight to us with it when he arrives.”

  “No, Magnus. I’m sorry, but I think Jonas is right. The king is thinking only of himself, he’s driven by nothing but his own greed. You and I know how dangerous Amara can be, but he probably he sees her as nothing more than a weak, young girl he can manipulate and control.”

  “A weak, young girl who apparently murdered her family in cold blood to take all the power for her own. We watched her kill Prince Ashur right in front of us, we should have known something like this would happen next. I wonder how long she’s planned this.”

  Cleo wrung her hands. “What are we going to do?”

  He began pacing back and forth alongside the table. “Cronus was always the expert on defensive strategy,” he said. A mournful tone entered his voice as he mentioned the name of the captain of the guard who’d stood watch over Cleo as she awaited execution in the dungeon.

  “How unfortunate, then, that you killed him,” Cleo said unpleasantly.

  “Yes, it is unfortunate. That was a mistake I’ve come to regret more and more with each passing day.”

  Her breath caught in her chest. “Do you mean to tell me that you regret saving my life?”

  “That one, foolish choice marks the moment that has destroyed my entire life. This”—he gestured at the note—“is final evidence of that.”

  Even at his harshest, even when he was being unbearably hateful, at least Cleo had been able to hold on to the memory of that day when he’d chosen to save her life whenever she needed to convince herself Magnus wasn’t the monster his father had tried to create. No matter the motivations he claimed were driving him on that day—he was worried about Lucia, he was mad at his father, it had nothing to do with Cleo herself—the end result remained. He, alone, had saved her life. He, alone, had defied the king and acted out of kindness.