Frozen Tides Read online

  From now on, he would cut the throat of anyone who might become a threat. With no exceptions.

  It was now mid-morning, and the activity at the palace had greatly increased since Magnus’s early departure. Servants scurried about the halls, whispering to each other and eyeing the prince as he passed. He followed the bustle toward the palace square, where he saw dozens upon dozens of citizens beginning to gather, having entered through the wide-open gates.

  Magnus caught the arm of a passing guard. “What’s all this about?”

  “Your highness, don’t you know?”

  “If I did I wouldn’t have to ask, would I?”

  “No, of course not, apologies your highness. The royal address is”—the guard cleared his throat nervously—“about to begin?”

  “I’ve made no plans to address anyone today.” The guard looked back at him, dumbstruck, uncertain, and fearful. Magnus waved him off. “Go,” he snapped, and the uniformed boy scurried off.

  The two bottles of wine had taken their toll. His vision blurry, Magnus wended his way through the crowd, studying faces that looked eager and flushed with excitement.

  This was Cleo’s doing. She was going warn to everyone about the Kraeshian attack, which she herself had orchestrated.

  How long did she plan to play this game?

  The crowd quickly swelled to several hundred. Magnus continued to scan the scene around him, noticing that not a single person present gave him even a second look. Surely none of them were expecting to see the crown prince milling about the commoners, especially not with breath that stank of wine.

  Suddenly, the boisterous activity in the square quieted to a sudden collective hush. Magnus looked up, following the crowd’s gazes, to see Cleo, standing on the balcony overlooking the square.

  “Welcome, welcome to you all,” she began, her voice strong and confident. “And please accept my sincerest gratitude for sacrificing your time and duties to come here and listen to this important announcement.”

  Magnus felt his head go hot, his blood begin to boil.

  He watched her put on a calm smile as she waited for the crowd’s cheers to cease. “The last time I stood here was during my wedding tour, a ceremony to introduce me to everyone across Mytica as the wife of Prince Magnus, heir to the throne of his father, King Gaius. I’m sure many of you were here that day to hear the prince’s speech, his claim that our union was one of choice. That we began as enemies and ended up two people in love, who wanted to spend the rest of their lives together.”

  Cleo paused and looked out at her audience, who appeared to collectively lean forward breathlessly as they waited for her to continue.

  “This was a lie.” Gasps and chatter began to spread through the crowd like a plague, and Magnus gritted his teeth. Cleo went on, and once again the people grew quiet. “King Gaius murdered my father and stole his throne. He spared my life only because he saw me as a way to ease his way into his reign. By marrying me to his son, he would show the people that I had accepted the Damoras as my new family, just as the Auranian citizens were expected to accept King Gaius as their new leader.

  “Ours is a marriage into which I was forced by threat of death, and all I could do was wait and hope for a chance to change my situation. And hold on to the hope that I could one day reclaim my throne.”

  Magnus stared up at her, utterly astonished. She meant to overthrow him right here and now.

  “I know that Limerians have endured years of fear,” Cleo said solemnly. “Ever since your kind and benevolent King Davidus died, and was replaced by his cruel and sadistic son, Gaius. You have lived under his dark shadow ever since, and now Paelsia and Auranos have had to endure the cruelties of this King of Blood as well.

  “I’ve gathered you all here today to tell you that that the king is in collusion with Princess Amara of Kraeshia. He has given Mytica—and therefore, all of you—over to the empire. They are sailing to our shores as we speak. We are now at risk of imminent occupation by Kraeshian forces.”

  The crowd swelled with banter and shouts, heated conversation edged now with fear and anger.

  Cleo held up her hands, and she had their attention again. “As your princess, I am calling upon you for your help. We must spread the news of the Kraeshian invasion as quickly and as far across Mytica as possible. Know that, as of today, our enemy is not only Princess Amara, but King Gaius as well. What kind of king would do such a thing, sell his country and his people as if they were cattle, all for his own gain?”

  She leaned forward, clutching the railing and staring out at the people with the gaze of a warrior. “These are the actions of a man who is not fit to rule Mytica. King Gaius is worse than selfish; he is evil. He takes everything and gives nothing back. And nothing will change unless we rise up against him!”

  Magnus clenched his fists, forcing himself out of his frozen state of shock. He had to get up to that balcony, drag her away, put a stop to this before it was too late.

  And expose his dear wife as a liar and a rebel, a fraud bent on destroying Magnus—and all the Limerian people—from inside the palace.

  “But I want you to know,” Cleo continued, “that there is hope. And that I am living proof of that hope. Because, even though I was forced into this marriage against my will, I have come to know Prince Magnus Lukas Damora very well these last months. And one thing I’ve learned is that Prince Magnus is nothing like his father. Prince Magnus is brave and compassionate, and he truly wants what’s just and best for this kingdom. Kindness is what makes a good king who will put the needs and rights of his people before his own desires.”

  Magnus stumbled back, pressing himself against a pillar to keep from crumpling to the ground. He couldn’t speak, he could barely think, and all he could do was stare up at her, utterly stunned.

  “I believe, with all my heart, that Magnus is a worthy and superior successor to your current king. Therefore, I ask today that you reject Gaius Damora as your leader and take Prince Magnus as your new king. He will right the wrongs that have overtaken Mytica. And he will make Gaius Damora pay for all he has destroyed.”

  Still looking up at her in amazement, Magnus suddenly realized that Cleo wasn’t wearing blue, her favorite color.

  Today she wore red.

  Cleo raised her arms up and out, as if reaching for the people. “Will you stand with me on this fateful day?” Her voice rose to a shout. “People of Limeros! Join me and my husband on a journey toward a new and better Mytica! Say it with me: King Magnus!”

  Excited murmuring rippled through the audience and, one by one, the people began to join Cleo in her chant. Soon the volume in the square had risen to a deafening level, everyone shouting the same two words together, over and over: “King Magnus! King Magnus! KING MAGNUS!”

  A sharp cry tore Magnus’s attention away from the balcony. He watched with horror as a stream of green-uniformed Kraeshian guards—on foot and on horseback—flooded the square.

  The warnings had been true.

  And he’d been utterly wrong to doubt Cleo, in so many ways. The realization bit into him painfully like shattered glass.

  The citizens scattered, the square was gripped in chaos. Magnus watched as nearly every fleeing Limerian was captured and restrained by the Kraeshians.

  A tall, broad-shouldered guard atop a massive and majestic black stallion called out to the crowd in a booming voice. “I am the commander of Empress Amara Cortas’s royal guard. The Empire of Kraeshia is now in control of Mytica. Our intentions here are peaceful. No one has to die today, but anyone who resists this occupation will pay with their life. From this day forward, you will bow before Amara Cortas, your glorious new empress.”

  Magnus looked back to the balcony to see that Cleo had disappeared. With one last glance at the chaos around him, Magnus darted back to the palace unnoticed.

  He needed weapons. He needed to find the captain of the palace guard. He needed to stop these Kraeshian vultures before it was too late.

  But
first, he had to find Cleo.

  Magnus raced through the hallways toward a winding staircase to the balcony, taking it two steps at a time. He reached the top and scanned the length of the long, dark hallway.

  A flash of long golden hair caught his eye and he ran toward it, but staggered to a halt when he turned the next corner.

  There he saw Lord Kurtis, clutching Cleo by her arm. She fought against him like a beast from the Wildlands, scratching and clawing at his face.

  “Let go of me!” she yelled.

  Kurtis grabbed her by her throat, smashed her against the wall, and slapped her hard across her face. “Behave yourself.”

  “I will kill you!”

  “Deal with her,” Kurtis said, shoving her at a guard who then struck her in the head with the hilt of his sword, rendering her unconscious. The guard picked up her limp body and tossed her over his shoulder.

  Magnus ran at them, but suddenly found himself flat on his face, the wind knocked from his lungs. Someone had tripped him. He looked up to see a Kraeshian guard looming over him, his sharp sword pressed to Magnus’s chest.

  Magnus raised his arms to his sides. “I surrender.”

  The Kraeshian eased back on the sword, and Magnus clasped his hands on either side of the blade and rammed the hilt into the guard’s face, breaking his nose. As the guard reeled back in pain, Magnus leapt to his feet and slammed his fist into his face, knocking him to the ground.

  Then, without any hesitation, Magnus yanked the sword from the guard’s grip and drove the blade down into his chest.

  Sword in hand, he rushed along the hallway, desperately searching for Cleo. She was nowhere to be seen, but he spotted Kurtis, alone, headed for an exit.

  “You better have answers for me.” Magnus pressed the tip of the sword between Kurtis’s shoulder blades, just as the kingsliege reached for the door handle. “Where is Cleo?” he hissed.

  Kurtis froze in place. “I don’t think that’s quite the right question to ask right now.”

  “Oh? And what’s the right question?”

  “The right question is, who was it I was meeting with at the gates earlier today?”

  “Well, you’re a coward, so it had to have been a Kraeshian. One who bribed you, told you he’d spare your life if you did as he asked.”

  Kurtis let out a dry little laugh. “Close,” he said, “and yet so far. It wasn’t a Kraeshian. It was a king. Your father, to be specific.”

  Magnus’s blood grew cold and his face went slack.

  “Yes, Magnus. Your father has arrived.”

  “And he took the princess. Why?”

  “Why do you think? Honestly, Magnus, use your head.”

  Magnus stiffened and pressed his sword harder against Kurtis’s back.

  “All right, no need for violence,” Kurtis bit out. “Your father took Princess Cleo because he wishes to personally finish the job that should have been done in Auranos, had you not intervened.”

  “He’s going to kill her.”

  “Of course he’s going to kill her.”

  “Where has she been taken?”

  Kurtis shrugged and gave Magnus a smirk over his shoulder.

  “Where?” Magnus pressed the blade down even harder, until he saw a spot of blood bloom out on the kingsliege’s tunic.

  “Kill me and you’ll never know,” Kurtis growled.

  “You and me, Kurtis, we’re all alone up here. No councilmen, no guards are going stroll by and help you out.” He sliced downward along Kurtis’s spine, making him whimper in pain. “You will tell me what I need to know swiftly, or I promise I’ll have you begging for death when I start carving off body parts.” Magnus grabbed a handful of Kurtis’s hair, yanked him backward, and brought the sword’s edge to his cheek. “I think I’ll start with your nose.”

  “No, don’t! Please!” Kurtis shrieked. “If—if I tell you, you will promise to let me leave the palace, alive and unharmed.”

  “Very well. And if you lie, I will hunt you down and make you suffer like one of the stray cats you adored so much as a child.”

  Kurtis swallowed hard. “The princess has been taken to my father’s castle, where Amara and your father are staying.”

  “Much gratitude for the information, Kurtis.”

  “Now let me go.”

  Magnus pulled his sword away. “A promise is a promise.”

  Kurtis reached for the door handle, but before he could turn it, Magnus interrupted him.

  “That’s the hand you used to strike her, isn’t it?” Magnus said.

  “What are you—?”

  Magnus swung his sword, severing the kingsliege’s right hand at the wrist. Kurtis screamed, his eyes wide and wild with shock and pain.

  Magnus grabbed him by his shirtfront, turned him around to face him, and slammed him against the wall. “By the way? I lied about not killing you.”

  Just before he could plunge his sword into Kurtis’s soft belly, a servant appeared in the hallway, shrieking, pursued by a Kraeshian guard. Magnus turned to look, and Kurtis slammed his head against Magnus’s forehead before tearing off down the hallway, dripping blood in his wake.

  Magnus roared with anger and immediately ran after him, but when he turned the next corner, Kurtis had disappeared.

  He charged down the stairs and pushed through the palace doors, frantically searching outside for his enemy. The light snowfall of this morning had now become a storm, the skies thick with dark clouds, making it difficult to see more than twenty paces away.

  The Limerian palace had been captured. Amara’s army was in control, her guards swarming the grounds like ants. And Magnus was trapped.

  He knew he had to fight for his people, to destroy his father and Amara, to take back his kingdom before it was too late.

  But right now, at this very moment, all he could think of was Cleo.

  CHAPTER 29

  LUCIA

  PAELSIA

  Downstairs at the inn, Lucia forced herself to eat some bread and honey, chewing each piece slowly and methodically before swallowing.

  “Rough night?” the server girl asked as she brought some cider to Lucia’s table. “Had a bit too much to drink, did you? I know what that’s like. Stick with Paelsian wine and you won’t have to suffer the next day.”

  “I appreciate the advice,” Lucia replied as the girl left to attend to another table of travelers crossing the barren plains of Paelsia.

  She’d tried to deny it at first, but now she knew it to be true.

  She was pregnant with Alexius’s child.

  And she had never felt more confused, terrified, and alone in her entire life.

  Kyan slowly approached her table and took a seat across from her. She sipped her cider, not bothering to spare him a glance.

  “I need to apologize to you, little sorceress.”

  Lucia dunked a piece of the dry bread into the honey and popped it in her mouth.

  “My behavior last night . . .” Kyan continued. “My behavior during these past several days, has been inexcusable.”

  “I’m glad to hear you admit it,” Lucia said drily.

  “That you’re still here this morning, that you haven’t abandoned me, is a miracle.”

  Finally she looked up at him. “Do you think I have anywhere else to go?” she said, her tone wracked with accusation. Kyan’s hands were clasped in front of him on the table, and he wore an extremely grave expression.

  “I’m unbearable to be around, I know it. I’ve always been this way. It’s . . . in my nature. Fire, you know.”

  “Oh, I know it. I know it very well by now.” She let out a long sigh and leaned back in her chair. “So what do you propose we do?”

  “You are important to me, little sorceress. You’re the only living thing on earth that still connects me to my family. You are my family.”

  Her throat tightened. “Is this how you treat family? With cruelty and abuse?”

  “You’re right. You’re absolutely right. I’m sorry.
” He leaned forward until she had no choice but to gaze right into his sincere amber eyes. “Here is what I propose. There’s no sense in continuing on in vain with our search for a gateway to the Sanctuary. Instead, we need to find that boy again, the one from the village market. Are you certain he has the obsidian orb?”

  She felt a pang in her belly as she thought back to Jonas Agallon and the girl Kyan had killed. “I can’t be completely certain,” she said solemnly. “I thought he did, but perhaps I was wrong. We can look for him. But if we find him, you’ll let me handle him, understood? I won’t let you get carried away again.”

  A smile tugged at his lips. “Lucia Damora, magical protector of unworthy mortals.”

  “Only because you’ve given me no other choice, oh fearsome fire god.” She let out a sigh and fought a smile of her own. “I forgive you this time. But if you lose your temper again, if you do anything to make me feel like I’m not worthy of your company because I’m nothing but a filthy mortal, we will have a very big problem, you and I.”

  “Completely understood,” said Kyan, placing his hands on top of hers. “So. Now that all ill will is healed between us, tell me, little sorceress, how do you feel on this”—he turned and glanced out the window at a sky full of dark storm clouds—“rather gloomy and unpleasant Paelsian day?”

  She’d heard it was always gloomy and unpleasant near the Forbidden Mountains.

  “How am I?” she repeated.

  Pregnant, she thought. I’m pregnant and my magic is weakening because of it.

  Lucia couldn’t help but think about the warning Queen Althea had issued her when she was little more than twelve years old.

  “Men will tell you lies to get you into their bed, to use you for their own pleasure, only to discard you right after. You must not let this happen. If you do, all you’ll end up with is unwanted children, a wasted life, and squandered potential—all because of a stupid decision to share flesh before a proper marriage. And if your father were to get word of that kind of behavior, he wouldn’t hesitate to kill you.”