Frozen Tides Page 36

  “I’m younger,” Magnus growled. “I’m stronger.”

  “Younger, yes. Perhaps stronger. But experience is the key to swordsmanship. And I am overflowing with experience in protecting myself, my son.”

  The king shoved him backward, then swung his sword. Magnus stopped it with his own, steel clashing.

  “Experience, you say? It seems to me that your preferred method of protecting yourself these days is to hide away in your palace. Or perhaps go groveling overseas to more powerful men—or women—and offer up your kingdom like a shiny apple.”

  “Mytica is mine to do with as I wish.”

  “You could have fooled me. It seems to be Amara’s now.”

  “Amara is my wife. Just another thing I own. When she’s gone, I will be the Emperor of everything.”

  “No, Father. By the time she’s gone, you’ll already be dead.”

  Their blades crossed again, and there was such force from both sides that it seemed to Cleo that the two were equally matched.

  “Is this really for her?” the king said with disdain. “You would oppose me like this, here and now, and throw away everything that could have been yours for the love of one girl?”

  “No,” Magnus replied, his teeth gritted together with the effort it took to fight his father. “I oppose you like this because you’re a monster who needs to die. And when that monster is dead, I will fix the idiotic mistake you made by underestimating Amara, and reclaim Mytica as my own.” He jabbed his blade, slicing his father’s shoulder. “What happened to your experience? It seems to me that I’ve drawn first blood.”

  “And I will draw last.” The king dodged the next strike with ease, clearly surprising Magnus. “Never show how strong you are from the very beginning. Save it for the end.”

  Gaius jabbed and flicked his wrist, and Magnus’s sword flew out of his hand. Magnus stared at it, stunned, as it landed six paces away.

  The king put the tip of his sword to the prince’s throat.

  “On the ground.”

  Magnus sent Cleo a pained look and sank to his knees before the king.

  “I didn’t want to have to do this,” the king said, shaking his head. “But you’ve given me no choice. Perhaps you’re not like me after all. You’re too soft to do what needs to be done.”

  “You’re wrong,” Magnus gritted out.

  “I saw potential when no one else could. And yet, here we are. Serves me right, I suppose.”

  Cleo was shaking her head, lost for words and feeling more hopeless than ever. “Please don’t do this . . . don’t kill him.”

  “It must be done. I can never trust him. I could lock him in the tower for months, years, but not a day would pass without the knowledge that he would be plotting to kill me again. However, my son, I will do you the honor of making this quick.”

  His arm tense, his expression without pity, the king raised his sword.

  “King Gaius!” Cleo shouted. “Look over here!”

  He froze, the sword stilled, but he didn’t drop it. The king sent a glance over his shoulder at Cleo, who stood at the edge of the cliff, holding the earth Kindred out at a dangerous angle.

  The king blinked. The guards reached for their weapons, but Gaius motioned for them to stay where they were.

  “Do you know what this is?” she asked evenly.

  “I do,” he said past a tense, tight jaw.

  “And do you know what happens if I drop it fifty feet onto a hard sheet of ice? It will shatter into a thousand pieces.”

  She was bluffing of course—she’d seen what had happened when Magnus had hurled the orb against the throne room wall. But she prayed he would believe her.

  “I know you want this,” she said. “I know you’re obsessed with the Kindred, but that you haven’t found a single one yet.”

  Finally, the king lowered his sword. “That’s where you’re wrong, princess. I have the moonstone orb.”

  Cleo tried to keep the shock from showing on her face.

  “You’re lying,” she said.

  “Wouldn’t that be convenient for you? Unfortunately, I’m not.” He nodded toward the closest guard, then to Magnus. “Watch him.”

  “Yes, your majesty.”

  Magnus stared at Cleo. “Drop it,” he said. “Don’t let him take it from you.”

  “Wonderful suggestion,” she said. She shook her arm as the king drew closer to make him stop. “So. You have air and I have earth. But neither one is worth anything, as I’m sure you’ve discovered, with their magic locked away inside.”

  “Oh, my dear girl, how disappointing it must have been for you to have such a treasure in your possession and yet no clue how to access its power.”

  “And you do?”

  He nodded. “My mother told me how. It was she who first told me stories about the Kindred. Somehow she knew I would be the one to claim them one day—all of them. And I would become a god more powerful than Valoria and Cleiona combined.”

  “How?” Magnus said, and his father gave him a withering look, which he ignored. “You may as well tell us. Even if she drops the orb, you’ll still kill us both. Your secret will die with us.”

  Gaius cocked his heads and gestured at the guards.

  “As if such information would benefit them,” Magnus scoffed. “Come on, Father, humor us in our final moments. Share my grandmother’s secret. How do you release the magic of the Kindred? And if you do know how, why haven’t you done it yet? Why not unleash the air magic and simply take the Kraeshian Empire for yourself without going through the hassle of negotiations and agreements?”

  The king went silent then, shifting his gaze between Cleo and Magnus. Finally, a smile returned to his face.

  “It’s quite simple, really. The secret to the Kindred’s magic is the secret to all powerful elemental magic.”

  Cleo’s arm had begun to ache from holding out the orb for so long. “Blood,” she said. “Blood enhances, strengthens elementia.”

  “Not just any blood,” the king said.

  Magnus’s face went ashen. “Why wouldn’t it have occurred to me until now? It’s Lucia’s blood—the blood of the prophesized sorceress.”

  The king only gave him a smug smile.

  “How unfortunate it is, Father, that Lucia is off wandering the earth with her fiery new friend, nowhere to be found.”

  “I will find Lucia, I’ve no doubt about that. But there is another important component required to unleash the Kindred. Perhaps Eva’s blood would have been enough on its own—she was created from pure elemental magic. But Lucia is mortal. Her blood must be mixed with an immortal’s blood for it to properly work.”

  “According to Grandmother.”

  “Yes, according to her. Now,” he said, turning to Cleo, “give me the Kindred.”

  “You’ll kill us both if I do. You’ll kill us both if I don’t. It seems we’ve found ourselves with a big problem here, haven’t we?”

  “Do you think you can negotiate with me, princess? Are you that naive, even after all this time? No. Let me tell you what will happen. You will give me the earth Kindred, and then I will grant you the mercy of a swift death. If you give me a problem, if you flinch, if you sneeze, if you delay the inevitable, I will kill you slowly, so very slowly, and I will make Magnus watch you die before I do the same to him.”

  Cleo shared a last look with Magnus. “You’ve given me no choice, then.”

  She dropped the obsidian orb off the edge of the cliff.

  The king stormed toward her, shoving her out of the way, and looked down toward the frozen lake far below, before he turned on her with a look of rage. “You stupid little bitch!”

  As soon as the Kindred hit the hard surface below, an earthquake began to shake the ground, just as it had in the throne room when Magnus had thrown it at the wall.

  A crack formed in the ice where the orb had first hit and, as fast as lightning, it snaked up the side of the cliff. A deafening sound of cracking, breaking, and splintering roare
d up and out across the land, and the edge of ice that Cleo and the king stood on broke away.

  Cleo scrambled to catch hold of the rough edge of an icy rock as the very ground she stood on fell away beneath her feet. The king, too, scrambled for a handhold, but he failed.

  With a roar, he fell backward into the abyss.

  Just as Cleo’s hand slipped, Magnus grabbed her wrist and hauled her up and over the side, crushing her against his chest as he pushed them backward and away from the damage.

  “Are you hurt?” he demanded.

  All she could do was shake her head.

  The guards drew closer, but Magnus was on his feet, tugging Cleo up with him. He’d grabbed his father’s fallen sword and now brandished it at them. “Stay back. I swear, I will kill each of you if you come any closer.”

  Enzo’s brow was deeply furrowed, his expression confused and grim.

  “We need to go after the king,” Enzo said. “It’s possible he survived the fall.”

  “I agree.” Magnus nodded. “Just keep your distance from us.”

  “As you wish, your highness.”

  It took some time and care, but Cleo and Magnus made it down to the bottom of the cliff and the surface of the frozen lake where the king lay, his head resting in a shallow pool of blood that had already started to freeze.

  Cleo picked up the black orb, which was clearly visible as it nestled within its stark white surroundings. Even though it had come to rest on a bed of ice and snow, it was hot to the touch, and the wisp of shadowy magic inside spun around and around furiously.

  She slipped it into her pocket and looked down at the face of the King of Blood.

  Magnus just stood there over his father, his arms crossed tightly over his chest.

  “He damn well better be dead,” he said. Despite the fierceness of his words, Cleo could hear a catch, a hoarseness to them.

  “I’ll check,” she said, and sank down to her knees next to the king. She pressed her fingers to the side of his throat.

  His hand shot up and grabbed her wrist, his eyes flying open.

  She shrieked and tried to pull away, but his hold was too strong. Magnus had his sword to the king’s throat in an instant.

  “Release her,” he snarled.

  But the king paid him no attention. He only looked at Cleo, his brow drawn, pain in his dark brown eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry, Elena. I never wanted to hurt you. Forgive me, please forgive me for all of this.”

  His eyes rolled back into his head and his hand dropped away.

  Cleo was trembling now and she scooted back, away from the king’s body.

  Magnus now checked the king’s pulse, and then swore under his breath. “He’s still alive. I swear, he must have made a pact with a demon from the darklands to survive a fall like that.” When Cleo didn’t reply, he looked up at her. “What was that he said to you? Did he call you Elena? Who’s Elena?”

  She was certain she must have heard him wrong, but when Magnus repeated the name now, she knew she hadn’t.

  “Elena,” she said, her throat raw. “Elena was my mother’s name.”

  Magnus frowned. “Your mother?”

  Enzo drew closer, but his weapon was not drawn. “Your highness, what do you want us to do?”

  Magnus hesitated, uncertain. “You don’t mean to arrest us?”

  “You’re the crown prince. Your father is badly injured, possibly near death. It’s your command we must obey now.”

  “What about Amara’s command?”

  “We don’t follow Kraeshian orders, even with an armada at the empress’s command. We are Limerian. Mytican. And we will follow only you—all Limerian guards will follow only you.”

  Magnus nodded and rose to his feet. He met Cleo’s gaze.

  “Then it seems we have a war to plan,” he said.

  CHAPTER 34

  JONAS

  KRAESHIA

  Jonas hadn’t had his chance to assassinate the king, but saving his friend from certain death had made his trip to Kraeshia worthwhile.

  His extremely short trip.

  While part of him wanted to stay and help Mikah and his rebels with their revolution, he knew he had to get back to Mytica. The moment Olivia returned from delivering his message to the prince, they were ready to board the Limerian ship and set sail.

  He clasped Mikah’s hand. “Good luck to you.”

  “Thank you. I’m going to need it. You too.”

  Jonas turned to Nic and Olivia. “Is he here yet?”

  “Not yet,” Nic replied.

  “We’re not leaving without him.”

  “Agreed.” Nic blinked and crossed his arms over his chest. “Exactly how long do you think we should wait?”

  Jonas scanned the docks, looking for a sign of Felix, but he hadn’t seen him since last night. Since right after he’d finally told him the truth about Lysandra. He’d wanted to wait until after they’d made safe passage back to Mytica, but Felix was relentless in his inquiries after her. So Jonas gave in, and relayed the tragic story of Lysandra’s murder. Felix had disappeared shortly afterward, mumbling something about needing a drink, something to help him process this news until he passed out.

  Jonas would have joined him, but he could tell Felix needed to be alone. Not only to find solace in his grief for Lysandra, but to recover from all the torture and trauma inflicted upon him in the Jewel.

  The moment he’d opened the door to Felix’s cell and saw him there, on the floor . . . broken, beaten, covered in blood, smelling like death itself. . . . It was all he could do to stay upright and standing, and help get his friend out of that dungeon.

  Finally, Felix appeared on the docks, approaching with a slow, steady gait, and Jonas let out a deep sigh of relief.

  “Ready?” Jonas asked him as he drew near.

  There were dark circles under Felix’s eyes, and his skin looked drawn and pale. “I’m so ready I’d be happy to swim all the way back just to get away from this rock.” His brow drew together as Jonas clasped his shoulder. “I’m fine, don’t bother worrying about me.”

  “I think I’ll worry anyway, just to be safe.”

  “Promise me, Agallon, that when we get back, we’re going to find this fire god, and we’re going to tear him into small, smoldering pieces. Got me? He will pay for what he did to her.”

  Jonas nodded firmly. “Agreed. Now, let’s get on our way.”

  “Wait!” Mikah called out to them just before they stepped aboard the ship. “Jonas, I told Taran to come here this morning to see you off—thought you’d want to meet my second in command before you leave.”

  “Ah, yes. Taran. The Auranian who broke my nose,” Felix said, pointing at his face. “Luckily, Olivia took care of that too.”

  “I suppose we can wait a few more minutes,” Jonas said. “I’d be honored to meet him.”

  A tall young man with bronze-colored hair walked down the dock and came to stand next to Mikah. “Jonas Agallon, this is Taran Ranus.”

  Jonas reached out to shake his hand. “Kick some Kraeshian arse for me, would you?”

  “Gladly.” Taran raised a brow as Nic tentatively approached them.

  “Nicolo Cassian,” Jonas said, now frowning at the way Nic seemed to be gawking at the rebel. “This is Taran—”

  “Ranus,” Nic finished. “Your family name is Ranus, isn’t it?”

  “How did you know that?”

  “You have a brother named Theon.”

  Taran grinned. “Twin brother, actually.”

  “Identical twin.”

  “That’s right. Theon was always the good one, the perfect son, following in our father’s footsteps. I’m the . . . well, whatever I am. The troublemaker, I guess. When things quiet down here, I need to get back to Auranos for a visit. It’s been so long since I’ve been in touch with my family. I take it you know Theon?”

  Nic stared at Taran as if stunned, as if somehow frightened by the mention of Theon’
s name.

  “Nic?” Jonas prompted when Nic continued to remain silent.

  “I . . . I’m so sorry to be the one to deliver this news,” Nic began. “But your father, your brother . . . they’re both dead.”

  “What?” Taran stared at Nic in shock. “How?”

  “You father, it was an accident. Terrible but unavoidable, and no one was at fault. But your brother . . .” Nic’s eyes shifted back and forth with uncertainty before they narrowed in a solemn gaze. “He was murdered. By Prince Magnus Damora.”

  Taran took a step back, doubled over slightly at the waist. All was silent for several long, uncomfortable moments, save for the squawking of seabirds and the crashing of waves against the shore.

  “Mikah . . .” Taran said, his face a shroud of stunned grief. “I have to go with them now. Today. I have to go to Mytica and avenge my brother’s death. But I promise I’m not done with the revolution. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  Mikah nodded. “Do what you have to do.”

  “So you’re coming with us, are you?” Jonas asked. “Just like that?”

  The friendly glint in Taran’s eyes had transformed to a flash of fury. “Is that a problem for you?”

  “Not if you don’t make it one.”

  “I have no conflict with you, but I will find Prince Magnus. And when I do, he will pay for what he’s done to my family. I know he sent you here. So does that mean you’ll try to stop me?”

  Jonas considered him for a long moment. He was currently allied with the prince, but that had nothing to do with this personal grievance. And as far as he could tell, Magnus deserved whatever Taran had in store for him. “No, I won’t stop you.”

  “Good.”

  Taran left to fetch some belongings for the journey, and Jonas turned to Nic.

  “I have a feeling that Taran’s not the only troublemaker in our midst. You didn’t have to tell him the truth about his brother. Trying to stir up old conflicts for the prince, are we?”

  Nic shrugged lightly, but there was a hard edge to his expression now as he met Jonas’s curious gaze. “All I did was tell the truth. Taran deserves to know what happened to Theon. And, what, you think Magnus shouldn’t pay for his crimes?”