Crystal Storm Read online

  “And if we’re successful in finding her? What then? She hates us.”

  “She’s confused,” Magnus said, an image of his younger sister appearing in his mind. “Grieving. She feels betrayed and lied to. If she knew that her home was in trouble, she would help us.”

  “Are you sure about that?”

  If Magnus were honest with himself, he’d have to admit he wasn’t sure about anything anymore.

  “You must go to Auranos without me,” he spat out the words, as distasteful as they were necessary. “I can’t leave yet. I need to see this through to the end.”

  She nodded. “That sounds like a good plan.”

  His heart twisted into a vicious knot. “I’m glad you agree.”

  “You are, are you?” Cleo’s cerulean eyes flashed with cold fire, and Magnus almost started at her harsh words. “You think that after all of this . . . ?” She threw her hands up in the air in lieu of finishing her sentence. “You are completely impossible, do you know that? I’m not leaving here without you, you idiot—”

  His brows shot up. “Idiot?”

  “—and that’s the end of this discussion. Got it?”

  He stared at her, once again stunned by this girl and everything she said. “Cleo—”

  “No, no more arguments,” she cut him off harshly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me for a moment, I need to clear my head. Away from him.” She tossed the last word at the king and, with a glare, marched away, her arms crossed tightly over her chest.

  “I see such passion between you now,” the king said as he drew closer to his son, his lips twisting with distaste. “How terribly sweet.”

  “Shut your mouth,” Magnus growled.

  The king kept his gaze on the princess as she paced angrily nearby. Then he turned toward the guards. “I need to speak to my son in private. Give us space.”

  All four guards immediately did as requested and moved away from Magnus and his father.

  “Privacy?” Magnus scoffed. “I don’t think anything you have to say to me anymore warrants that.”

  “No? Not even if it’s about your golden princess?”

  Magnus’s hand was on the hilt of his sword in an instant, fury rising within him. “If you dare threaten her life again—”

  “A warning, not a threat.” His father regarded his outrage with only weary patience. “The girl is cursed.”

  Magnus was sure he hadn’t heard him correctly. “Cursed?”

  “Many years ago, her father was involved with a powerful witch—a witch who didn’t take the news of his marriage to Elena Corso well, so she cursed Elena and any future offspring that they would die in childbirth. Elena nearly died giving her firstborn life.”

  “But she didn’t.”

  “No, she died with her second.”

  Of course Magnus had heard about the former queen of Auranos’s tragic fate and had seen the portraits of Cleo’s beautiful mother in the hallways of the golden palace. But this couldn’t possibly be true.

  “It’s said she suffered greatly before she finally passed.” The king’s voice had become not much more than a rasp. “But she was strong enough to see her newborn daughter’s face—and to name her after a wretched, hedonistic goddess—before death finally claimed her. And now this witch’s curse has surely been passed to that daughter.”

  Magnus regarded his father with utter disbelief. “You’re lying.”

  The king sent a fierce frown at Magnus. “Why would I lie?”

  “Why would you lie?” he repeated, a dry laugh rising in his throat. “Oh, I don’t know. Perhaps because you wish to manipulate me at every turn for your own amusement?”

  “If that’s what you think . . .” The king flicked his wrist toward Cleo, who was speaking with Enzo now and sending impatient looks toward Magnus and his father. The hem of the scarlet gown she wore peeked out from beneath the dark green fabric of the cloak she’d stolen the night before from a Kraeshian guard. “Get her pregnant and you’ll witness her die in anguish, lying in a deep pool of her own blood as she brings your spawn into this world.”

  Magnus had all but stopped breathing. What his father claimed couldn’t possibly be true.

  But if it was . . .

  Cleo began to close the distance between them, her hood down, her long blond hair fanned over her shoulders.

  “Witches casts curses,” Gaius said to Magnus quietly. “Witches are also known to break curses. All the more reason for you to come with me to see your grandmother.”

  “You tried to kill me and the princess.”

  “Yes, I did. So the decision of how you’ll proceed lies with you now.”

  Cleo reached Magnus’s side with Enzo behind her, and she frowned as she looked between father and son. “What is it? Not more plans for me to hide myself away in Auranos, I hope.”

  The horrific image of Cleo lying dead on bloody sheets was now locked in Magnus’s mind, her eyes glazed and lifeless while nearby a baby with cerulean eyes cried endlessly for its mother.

  “No, princess,” Magnus managed. “You made your thoughts on that quite clear, even if I strongly disagree. I wish to be reacquainted with my grandmother after all these years. She will use her magic to help us find Lucia, who will help us reclaim Mytica. Agreed?”

  Cleo didn’t answer for a moment, her brow furrowed in thought. “Yes, I suppose it makes a sickening kind of sense to seek help from another Damora.” She blinked. “Magnus, you’ve become very pale. Are you all right?”

  “Fine,” he said tightly. “We leave now.”

  “Amara will wonder where I’ve disappeared to without word,” the king said. “That could cause problems.”

  Magnus sighed. “Very well. Go and make your excuses for leaving your bride’s side. However, if you try to cross me, Father, I assure you that your death will come far sooner than you anticipate.”

  CHAPTER 3

  AMARA

  LIMEROS

  Empress Amara Cortas sat upon a carved, gilded chair in the villa’s smaller than adequate main hall. It was a temporary throne, but it did nicely to prop her up so she could easily look down upon the two very different men who kneeled before her.

  Carlos was the captain of the Kraeshian guard, a man with bronzed skin and black hair, his shoulders impossibly broad. He had more than enough muscles to fully fill out his dark green Kraeshian uniform, its golden clasps, which attached the black cape, glittering in the candlelight.

  Lord Kurtis Cirillo was younger, thinner, more sallow in appearance, with dark hair and olive green eyes. While Amara would prefer a larger castle to spend her current days, this villa was the finest home for miles around, and it belonged to Kurtis’s father, Lord Gareth.

  “Rise,” she commanded, and they obeyed.

  Both men waited for her response to the updated news of yesterday’s siege and capture of the Limerian palace.

  As Amara composed her thoughts, she winced from the large and rather painful lump on the back of her head she’d acquired last night. The sack of icicles that she held to the injury had started to melt.

  “Of the dozen casualties,” she finally said, “was there anyone of importance?” For this, she turned to Kurtis, who would know nobles from lessers much better than her guard.

  “No, your grace,” Kurtis replied quickly. “Mostly Limerian soldiers and guards, a few servants. Only those who attempted to stand against you.”

  “Good.” Twelve wasn’t an unacceptable number to perish considering how many people had allegedly been at the palace to witness Princess Cleiona’s speech at the time of the siege. From Carlos’s report, three thousand citizens from nearby villages had made the journey to hear that hateful girl spread more of her lies.

  She scanned the red and black banners lining the stone walls bearing the Cirillo family crest: three snakes entwined. For a kingdom of ice and
snow that supported very little wildlife that Amara had noticed, Limerians did seem to value images of serpents.

  “Your grace . . .” Kurtis’s reedy voice chirped.

  “Yes, Lord Kurtis?”

  The young man’s face was pained, his mouth set in a grimace that had become familiar to her in her short time in Mytica. She wondered whether this was a permanent look for the kingsliege or whether it was due to the unfortunate injury he sustained just before she met him. There were fresh bandages on the bloody stump at his wrist where his right hand used to be. “I hesitate to broach a subject that Carlos believes we mustn’t bother you with.”

  “Oh?” She glanced with surprise at her guard, who looked at Kurtis with naked hatred in his steely gaze. “What is it?”

  “I’ve heard concerning talk amongst your soldiers about your reign—”

  “My lord,” Carlos bit out, “if there is a problem with the men I command, I will come to the empress myself. This matter does not need the opinion of a Limerian.”

  Kurtis scoffed, as if insulted by Carlos’s bluntness. “Does the empress not deserve to know that her own soldiers speak of abandoning their posts rather than be ruled by”—he hesitated, but only for a moment—“a woman?”

  Amara willed herself to be calm as she handed the melting ice to a nearby maid. “Carlos, is this true?”

  The guard looked ready to spit molten glass. “It is, your grace.”

  “Yet you don’t feel this is a concern?”

  “Talk is talk. None have taken any action as yet to leave this mission to return to Kraeshia. And if they do, they will be severely punished.”

  She studied the man’s face, a man who had been loyal to her father not so very long ago. “How do you feel about having me as the first female ruler of Kraeshia? Will you continue to take my orders without wishing to abandon your post?”

  He straightened those massive shoulders. “I am loyal to Kraeshia, your grace, therefore I am loyal to whoever is on the throne. I assure you, I have control over my men.”

  “Yes, but the question is, do I?” It was the reason she hadn’t celebrated her victory of becoming empress quite yet. Her control felt delicate, like ice newly formed over a lake. There was no way to know for certain if it would shatter the moment it was met with pressure.

  All the more reason why she needed the magic released from her water Kindred. The small aquamarine orb hidden in the pocket of one of her gowns in the wardrobe was useless to her now. She had to figure out how to unleash the powerful magic inside.

  “Your grace,” Kurtis said, and she couldn’t help but notice that his expression had lightened some since delivering the news Carlos had wanted concealed from her. “I have also heard them speak of Prince Ashur’s eventual return from his travels.”

  “Oh? And what of it?” Pain flared from her head wound, radiating in waves. She would like to lie down for the day, to rest and heal, but an empress couldn’t afford to indulge in even the slightest bit of weakness.

  “As your older brother, they feel that he will reign as emperor. They believe that your position is a temporary one only. And they feel, once news of your family’s deaths reach him wherever he currently is, that he will return without hesitation.”

  Amara took a deep breath and counted, slowly, to ten in her head.

  Then she counted to twenty before pushing a small smile on her face.

  “Is this also true?” she asked Carlos as sweetly as she could.

  The guard’s face seemingly had turned to stone. “It is, your grace.”

  “Truthfully, I hope they’re right,” she said. “Ashur certainly is the first in line to the throne before me, so of course I will relinquish my title the moment he appears. We can mourn our lost family together.”

  “Your grace,” Carlos said, bowing deeply, his brows drawn together. “Your grief is shared by us all. Your father, your brothers, they were all great men.”

  “Indeed they were.”

  But even great men could be felled by poison.

  Amara had been trying very hard not to feel like a venomous scorpion who lured unsuspecting victims into her lair. She knew she wasn’t the villain in the story of her life. She was the heroine. A queen. An empress.

  But without the respect of the soldiers she needed to expand her kingdom, she had nothing. Carlos might not believe a few dissenting whispers were important, but soon they could become the voice of a full rebellion.

  For now, despite her title, she had to tread carefully until she had the magic she required to hold on to her newfound power.

  One day very soon, Amara Cortas would not answer to any man, not ever again. They would answer to her.

  And if they were counting on her brother’s return to chase the girl from the throne she had taken with strength and sacrifice, then they would be sorely disappointed.

  After all, one of those sacrifices had been Ashur himself.

  “I am grateful that you chose to tell me this,” she addressed Kurtis again. “And if my brother does arrive, please know that I will welcome him with open arms.” When Kurtis bowed, she shifted her disappointed gaze to the guard who would keep the talk of treason a secret from her. “Carlos, what is the status on the search for Princess Cleiona?”

  “A dozen men, including the king, are still out searching for her, your grace.”

  Less than a year ago, before she was taken in by the conquering royal family and married to Magnus, Cleo had been a spoiled princess who had lived a pampered Auranian life. Amara knew what a demanding and difficult girl she really was, despite the sunny and golden demeanor she might have presented socially.

  Last night, Amara had made the mistake of underestimating Cleo and offering her her friendship. She’d quickly come to regret it.

  The princess’s drive for survival nearly equaled her own.

  “Make it two dozen guards,” she instructed Carlos. “She couldn’t have gotten far.”

  Carlos bowed. “At your command, your highness.”

  “Actually, I’m sure the princess has frozen and is now three feet under the fallen snow.” King Gaius’s voice stole Amara’s attention from her guard. She looked up to see that the man had entered the hall and was slowly moving toward her, flanked by two of his guards.

  Kurtis and Carlos immediately bowed before the king.

  Amara swept her gaze over Gaius and her eyes widened with shock. His face was bruised, all banged up with cuts and scratches. There was a sickly grayish pallor to his complexion. His neck was smeared with blood, which was caked in the creases of his hands and underneath his fingernails.

  “Carlos, fetch a medic immediately!” she commanded as she rose from her throne to meet the king halfway across the large room.

  “No,” Gaius said, raising his hand. “That won’t be necessary.”

  Only last night when he’d left to search for the princess, he’d been a handsome man with dark hair and deep, if often cruel, dark brown eyes, tall and strong, but now he looked as if he had crawled up out of his own grave.

  Amara gave Carlos a nod to do what she asked anyway, and the guard immediately left the hall. “What happened to you?” she asked, injecting concern rather than simply shock into her tone.

  The king rubbed his shoulder, his face a mask of pain. “I took a rather nasty fall while searching for the princess.” His expression tightened. “But I’m fine.”

  A lie if ever she’d heard one.

  Gaius swept his gaze over the kingsliege, lingering on his injury. “Good goddess, boy. What happened to you?”

  Kurtis glanced at his bandaged stump, his face reddening and his cheek twitching. “When I attempted to escort your son’s wife out of the palace yesterday, he attempted to stop me.”

  “He cut off your hand.”

  “He did,” Kurtis admitted. “And I feel it’s a crime that deserves
punishment. After all, I only acted on your command.”

  “I must sit.” Gaius gestured for one of his red-uniformed guards to bring him a chair, and he all but collapsed into it. Amara watched him with growing alarm. This was not a man who normally showed any kind of weakness at all. This was the result of a fall, he said?

  If he was close to death for whatever reason, she needed him to tell her how to unlock the Kindred’s magic before it was too late.

  “Yes,” Gaius continued, his voice barely more audible than a gasp. “Magnus has certainly made some questionable decisions recently.”

  Amara tried again. “Gaius, I insist you see a medic.”

  “And I insist that I’m fine. On to other, more interesting topics, I’ve brought you a gift.” He gesturing at one of his guards. “Enzo, bring in the girl.”

  The guard left the hall and returned a few moments later with a pretty young woman with short, dark hair.

  “This,” the king swept his gaze over the girl, “is Nerissa Florens.”

  Amara raised a brow, managing to find a trace of humor in the unexpected introduction. “I’ve never received a girl as a gift before.”

  “You need an attendant. Nerissa tended to Princess Cleiona and, I’ve heard, is greatly skilled at her job.”

  Instead of feelings of peevishness provoked by being presented with a nobody, Amara found her interest piqued. “I assume this means you’re loyal to the princess.”

  “On the contrary, your highness,” Nerissa replied, her voice strong. “I am loyal only to my king.”

  Amara narrowed her gaze at the girl and took her in, top to bottom. Short hair wasn’t a common style, not in Kraeshia or Mytica. It spoke of someone who didn’t have time for vanity. Yet Nerissa was quite attractive. She had a graceful nose, widely set eyes, and a flush to her tanned cheeks. She stood proudly, far more proudly than any servant Amara had witnessed before.

  Amara finally nodded. “Very well, Nerissa, I do find myself in need of a skilled attendant. However, if you say you’re loyal only to the king, I will need to ask him to transfer that loyalty to me now. Gaius?”