Frozen Tides (15 page)

“What are you doing here?” he hissed.

Olvia shrugged. “We followed you.”

“I told her we probably shouldn't,” Lysandra said. “But she convinced me.”

“And now . . . ?” Jonas prompted the witch, hoping she would wield her
elementia
and somehow break them free. “Can you do anything?”

“I'd rather see what happens next and take it from there.”

“‘See what happens next'?” he repeated, stunned.

The earth Kindred sat at the bottom of the satchel he'd given to Lysandra before trespassing on the palace grounds. Where was it now?

“Please do alert me when you're finished talking amongst yourselves.” Magnus's voice drew Jonas's attention to the dais, where the prince sat upon his father's black throne.

“We're finished,” Jonas snarled.

“Good.” He flicked his hand at a guard. “Bring her in.”

The guard opened the doors and Princess Cleo entered the throne room. For a moment, all Jonas could do was stare at her, grateful that she was every bit as beautiful—and
alive
—as the last time he'd seen her. At least the prince hadn't been lying about that.

She took three graceful strides inside before her steps faltered. Her wide-eyed gaze went from Jonas to Magnus and back again.

“What's going on?” she demanded.

“Someone dropped by for a visit,” Magnus said, gesturing toward Jonas. “I thought letting him stay for a while would be the hospitable thing to do.”

“This . . . this is Jonas Agallon,” she said.

“Yes,” Magnus said. “I'm impressed that you recognized the great rebel leader, even with his cunning disguise in place.”

Her face went pale. “Why have you brought him here? To answer for his crimes?”

No,
Jonas thought.
Oh, no. What have I done?

More proof of the prince's lies. The princess had never confided in him about her role in the uprising, yet Jonas had all but confirmed that they had been allies.

Now, thanks to Jonas's persistent gullibility, he'd doomed not only himself but Cleo too.

“I met this esteemed leader outside, where he attempted to
assassinate me,” Magnus said. “Clearly, he failed. But that is what they say about the rebel leader:
he fails
. Time and again.”

“Do you know what they say about you, Magnus?” Jonas said, deciding there was nothing left to lose. “That you should go suck the arse end of a horse.”

“Ah, just the sort of charming statement I'd expect from a Paelsian peasant.”

“I will see you bleed, you son of a bitch,” Lysandra hissed.

Magnus flicked his dark gaze to her. “Greetings, Lysandra. I remember you, of course.”

“And I remember you.”

“I'm sure you won't believe me, but I think you should know that I thought the king made an unforgivable error in the execution of your brother. He would have been much more helpful to us alive.”

Lysandra drew in a shuddery breath, her eyes flashing with pain and hatred.

Cleo twisted her hands. “Magnus, why did you bring these rebels to the throne room? Why didn't you send them directly to the dungeon?”

“Why do you ask, princess? Perhaps because that would make it easier for you to help them escape?”

“Excuse me?” Her face blanched further. “What are you suggesting?”

“Enough. I know the truth, which you're certainly free to deny until your dying breath. My father was right about you and your alliance with the rebel.” She grappled for words, stuttering and stumbling over false starts, but Magnus held up his hand to silence her. “Don't bother. Agallon has already confirmed it.”

Jonas waited for the onslaught of shame and failure, but all he felt was rage.

Confusion slipped from Cleo's eyes, replaced by a sudden blaze of defiance. “Is that so? And you believe someone who kidnapped me twice to use for his own gain?”

Magnus laughed. “Now you're only wasting your breath. Any further lies are irrelevant to me. I'll have him put to death by sundown.”

Cleo gasped. “No! You can't do that!”

“Can't I?” He studied her. “Very well. Admit to me that you and Jonas have been working together for months—that you stooped so low as to conspire on the attack of our own wedding—and I'll let him live. One word seals his fate. Will it be yes? Or no?”

A flurry of anger, doubt, and fear rushed across the princess's face, until her features settled down into pure and utter fury.

“Speak, or I'll make the decision for you. Yes or no?”

“Yes,” she finally hissed.

“Well done, princess.” Magnus nodded, but there was little pleasure in his expression now. Jonas watched a muscle in his scarred cheek twitch.

She glared up at the prince, her hands in fists. “And now you're going to kill him anyway, aren't you? Perhaps me too? Or would you rather I grovel some more?”

“If this is what you call ‘groveling,' I'm very disappointed.” Magnus gestured toward the guards. “Unchain the rebel and his friends. Take the female rebels somewhere comfortable to wait while we finish here in private. If you speak to anyone about what you witnessed here, I'll have your tongues removed.”

Jonas stared at the prince, astonished, as the guards unlocked his heavy chains. Then they did the same to Lysandra and Olivia before firmly escorting them out of the throne room.

Magnus stood up and descended the stairs, then took his seat at the head of the long black table.

“Let's talk,” he said, gesturing for Cleo and Jonas to join him.

Jonas sat on a carved mahogany chair and rubbed his sore wrists. “If all you wanted was to talk, why bother with the chains? The guards?”

“You had me on my knees with your sword to my throat, believing I was moments from death. This was the least I could do to keep us on even ground.”

Unbelievable
, Jonas thought with disbelief. This had all been a show to soothe the prince's wounded pride.

“Now, back to the business at hand,” Magnus said. “My offer stands, Agallon.”

“What offer?” Cleo said. Her cheeks were now flushed, her fingers gripping the edge of the table.

Magnus's jaw tensed. “I proposed a truce between me and Jonas.”

Shock crossed Cleo's expression. “A truce? I . . . I find that very difficult to believe.” Her gaze met Jonas's. “You agreed to this?”

He nodded reluctantly. “I agreed to discuss it.”

“I don't undertand.”

“While the rebel has been a painful thorn in my side, I believe he can be useful,” Magnus explained. “He's agreed to kill my father so he'll no longer be a threat to me, or any of us. While Agallon has attempted this before and failed, he'll be much more successful aligned with me.”

Cleo's brow creased in thought. “With your father dead, that would make you the king of Mytica—all of it.”

“Yes, it would.”

“Well, that's rather convenient for you, isn't it? Jonas will do the work, and you will reap all the rewards.”

“I'm sure you have a point, princess.”

“My point is: What happens then? If the king is dead and you have all the power? You won't need Jonas anymore . . . or me.”

“I don't particularly need you now. But if you're fearful for
your life, you shouldn't be. I wouldn't gain anything from your death once I have what I want.”

Her cheeks reddened. “You confirmed today that I'm a liar and a former rebel aide. Why would you pardon me for that?”

He regarded her for a moment in silence, his hands pressed palms down against the table. “Why wouldn't you lie? Why wouldn't you align yourself with someone who might help set you free from your enemies? I would have done exactly same thing if I'd been in your position.”

Her frown deepened. “Sometimes I think you make it your daily task to confuse me.”

“The feeling is utterly mutual, princess.”

They continued to glare at each other in silence as the tension in the room grew as thick as three-day-old gruel.

Jonas cleared his throat. “The princess is right. It seems as though you're asking me to do your dirty work, while you sit back and reap the lion's share of the rewards. What's in it for us?”

“Us?” Magnus repeated unpleasantly. “You mean you and the princess?”

“Sure. And Lys and Olivia. And Paelsia as a whole. It's part of your father's kingdom now.
Your
kingdom if I'm successful.”

“It was my father's goal to unite all of Mytica because he thought it was the answer to finding the Kindred,” Magnus said. “Chief Basilius foolishly helped him drag Paelsia into ruin. And now he's dead. When my father finally joins him in the darklands, I want to restore this country to a simpler time. Limeros is my only concern—both now and in the future. Paelsia is yours, Agallon. And Auranos will be returned to you, princess.”

Jonas was certain he'd heard the prince wrong. The thought that this could be real made the world start to spin all around him. “And you expect us to believe this?”

“It can't be true,” Cleo said in a tone of disbelief, shaking her head. Her face had gone very pale.

“It is true and it is my plan. It's your decision entirely if you wish to be a part of it. Disagree, or choose to doubt me further, and you can leave my palace and never return.”

The first time Jonas had decided to trust Magnus's word he'd been immediately put into chains and threatened with death. And that was only moments ago.

It would be a deadly gamble to trust him again.

Still, there was too much to lose to walk away, and far too much to gain if this was real.

“Fine,” Jonas said, his jaw tight. “I'm in.”

“Wonderful. And you, princess? Do you agree as well?” Magnus said, turning to Cleo. “When the king is dead, your kingdom will be returned to you, and I promise you'll never have to see me again.”

She was silent for so long that Jonas wondered if she'd lost her voice.

Finally, she nodded.

“I agree.”

LUCIA

LIMEROS

W
ith the help of witches along the way, Lucia and Kyan had successfully found four of the stone gateways.

Unfortunately, all four had been stripped of their magic.

Kyan was all but certain that Timotheus had sent his minions from the Sanctuary to render each wheel dormant. With every new discovery and disappointment, Kyan became more and more irate. And Lucia knew that the more irate he became, the more people would die.

After leaving Magnus and the third wheel, they'd traveled to a broad, vacant field in central Limeros to find the fourth wheel, which was deeply embedded in snow.

“That Watcher must think quite highly of himself,” Kyan growled, pacing in front of the wheel. “But he won't win.”

Intense heat emanated from Kyan as he paced, until the snow around them melted and they were surrounded by a field of flames.

Lucia stood by silently as Kyan ranted about Timotheus, but her patience was growing thin. She knew Kyan had a temper, of
course, but ever since their visit to the Limerian palace, she found herself questioning her kinship with him.

How could it be that this omnipotent elemental god, one whom Melenia had lusted after for millennia, was about as mature as a toddler?

But no. He wasn't omnipotent. If he were, he wouldn't need her help.

“Are you finished with your tantrum?” she asked.

He glared at her, his eyes still glowing blue. “Nearly.”

“Good. Because this is growing wearisome.”

“Is that so? My quest to destroy my enemy and reunite with my family is growing wearisome for you, is it?”

“No. But all of
this
certainly is.” She indicated the burning field.

“I would have thought you'd enjoy a little something to warm you up on this cold day. My mistake.” Suddenly, his irises shifted back to amber and the flames surrounding them vanished. He raised an eyebrow. “Better? Be sure not to smile, little sorceress. It'll ruin that stern look you've been practicing.”

“I've no intention of smiling. You know I'm still furious with you for what you did to Magnus.”

“Your brother disrespected me.”

“He doesn't know who you are.”

“Exactly.”

“So instead of sparing him for his ignorance you decided to kill him?”

All the anger in Kyan's expression faded away as he gave her a charming grin. “I wouldn't say unleashing my rage upon him was a
decision,
exactly. Fire magic is who I am.
What
I am.”

She crossed her arms and began walking away from him. “That's no excuse. Magnus is off-limits. If you harm him in any way, I won't help you anymore.”

The fact that she'd willingly tortured Magnus with her magic until he'd spoken the truth didn't sit well with her. Still, if he hadn't resisted, she wouldn't have had to inflict so much pain.

Causing Cleo pain, however, hadn't troubled her at all.

Catching up with her, Kyan kept pace at her side. “Timotheus deserves to die.”

“Then he'll die.” She shook her head. “I just don't understand why you're in such a rush to tear him out of the Sanctuary. You've only just awakened. And you're just as much an immortal as he is.”

“I've waited an eternity to be free, little sorceress. Why should I have to wait another day to know it will be permanent?” He grasped her arm, slowing her down and stopping her. “I know you're angry with me, and that's the last thing I want. But I think I can redeem myself.”

“Really?” She eyed him skeptically. “How?”

“Let's go find your real family.”

A breath caught in her chest. “Now?”

Kyan smiled. “You're right, my vengeance can wait a few days. But you've waited sixteen years to learn who you really are.”

The witches who'd helped them find the wheels had also given up information about Lucia's prophecy. They'd learned that the night Lucia was born, the stars had aligned, setting many witches out on a journey to Paelsia to find her. According to one witch's rumor, two sisters with blood magic skills had succeeded.

One of those sisters was Sabina, the witch Lucia had killed many months ago in the Limerian palace when her powers were first awakening. If only she'd known enough to wait to crush Sabina's skull and set her on fire until after she'd questioned the witch about her origins.

“All right, let's go,” Lucia said now, eagerness rising in her chest. “We're close to learning the truth. I can feel it.”

“Then it's settled.” Kyan nodded. “Tomorrow we'll set off for Paelsia.”

• • •

The second she closed her eyes to sleep she was haunted by the image of Magnus on the palace grounds.

His joy and relief as she approached.

His confusion when she didn't immediately throw herself into his arms.

His uncertainty when she kissed him.

And his pain when she pulled the truth out of him, brutally and against his will.

This is who I am now, dear brother,
she thought.
This is who I was always meant to be.

With this affirmation, she was finally claimed by a sleep she prayed would be dreamless.

Unfortunately, her prayers were not answered.

In her dream, she stood in a meadow. But not any ordinary meadow. This was a meadow in the Sanctuary, the same one where she'd met Alexius, also in a dream.

Apples as shiny red as rubies hung from the surrounding trees, the sky was as bright as a sapphire, and the ever-brilliant sun shone down on the splendor all around her.

It was the last place she wanted to be.

A hawk circled high above her head, then descended and perched in a nearby tree.

It isn't Alexius.

It can't be.

Still, a small part of her heart had been holding out hope that
maybe, just maybe, he could still visit her. When immortals ceased to be, their bodies returned to the elemental magic from which they'd been created. They didn't leave behind a corpse unless they'd lived as a mortal for many years.

Was it possible he could still contact her through her dreams?

She approached the bird tentatively. “Alexius?”

The hawk cocked its head, then vanished before her eyes.

“I'm very sorry to say that no, I'm not Alexius.”

Lucia spun around. Standing before her in the meadow was a young man wearing white robes like those of a high priest. But most priests Lucia had ever known were old and wrinkled and ugly—not like this man, who was every bit as beautiful as Alexius had been.

“Beautiful, am I?” he said.

She gasped. “You can read minds.”

“Only in dreams. Like yours right now.”

“Who are you?” she demanded.

“I think you already know the answer to that question,” he said, walking a slow circle around her.

“Timotheus.”

He nodded, smiling slightly. “And you are Lucia Eva Damora, the princess of Limeros. The sorceress reborn. The king gave you Eva's name. How predictable.”

So here he was, the creature who'd imprisoned Kyan and kept him apart from his family for countless centuries. A monster as cruel and evil as Melenia had been.

Her fists lit up with fire and she narrowed her eyes. “You made a mistake drawing me into this dream.”

“Oh, don't insult me, child.” He flicked his wrist and her fire went out.

She looked down at her hands and, hiding her dismay, tried to reignite her fire magic. But she couldn't even summon a spark.

“Let's take care to understand each other from the beginning,” Timotheus said. “You have no power here. I am in control of this dream.”

“This is
my
dream. And I want to wake up.”

For a long silent moment, Timotheus said nothing, did nothing, except stand before her and watch her. Finally, in a calm, even tone, he spoke. “I never understood why Alexius was so smitten with you. So far you've done nothing to impress me. They say you're as powerful as Eva? Even if you spent the next five centuries living and breathing nothing but
elementia
, you would only be a fraction as great as she was.”

She lunged forward, trying to hit him. If she couldn't use her magic she'd happily use brute force. But when she swung her fist, she hit not Timotheus, but an invisible surface, solid and hard as rock.

She cried out as unimaginable pain shot up her arm.

“How dare you!” She reached for him, fighting against futility to try to scratch and claw at his face, but the invisible, magical barrier he'd manifested prevented her from touching him.

“Stop acting like an infant.”

He flicked his wrist again, sending her flying backward and slamming, hard, into a rough, thick tree trunk and knocking the breath clean out of her lungs.

“Just let me go!” she gasped. “Let me wake up! I don't want to be here with you. This meadow was for me and Alexius, and all you're doing is destroying it.”

Timotheus stared down at her with his eyes like churning, molten gold, filling her with disgust. “Alexius gave up his immortality to be with
you
.”

“At Melenia's request.”

“You make theirs sound like a friendly partnership. Melenia used him.”

“And he let her!”

“My, you're stubborn. Fine. I won't sully your memories of this imaginary location another moment.” Suddenly the air began to swim and shimmer, and the scene around them began to shift and change.

Lucia stood up and found herself in the ice gardens of the Limerian palace. Standing before her was Timotheus, wearing a black cloak, leather boots, and the same hateful expression she remembered from the meadow.

“Now that I've proved I'm in control here,” Timotheus said, “we can begin.”

“Begin what?” she snarled.

“What has the fire Kindred told you? What does he say he wants?”

“Fire Kindred?” She offered him a thin smile. “I'm sure I've no idea what you're talking about.”

“Does he think you can kill me?”

“Why would anyone want to kill you, Timotheus?” she asked. “I honestly can't imagine that, given how kindly and respectfully you've treated me so far.”

“Has he told you what he plans to do after I'm dead?”

She inhaled deeply, ignoring her racing heart. “Your questions are meaningless to me and I'm not answering any of them.”

“You killed Melenia,” Timotheus said, not a trace of a question in his tone.

“Are you sure about that?”

He studied her, ignoring her deflections. “You drained her of her magic. Alexius taught you that trick. Very clever of him. It seems he had more control over his free will than I thought.”

“How do you . . . ?” But then she stopped herself, because she suddenly realized how Timotheus knew about that night in the temple. In this dream, he could read her mind, so he could also see memories. Could all Watchers do this? Had Alexius possessed this skill as well?

“No, he didn't,” Timotheus said, answering her silent question. “Though he would have been considered ancient in your world, Alexius was one of the youngest of our kind. I, however, am not so young. I am one of the first immortals created to protect the Kindred and all that lies beyond the Sanctuary.”

“So was Melenia,” she said.

He nodded. “There were six of us in the beginning.”

“Now you're the only one left.” She cocked her head. “So much for immortality.”

“We are immortal. Not indestructible.”

“Much gratitude for the reminder,” Lucia said, her chest aching as she thought once again of Alexius.

“Kyan misleads you. He doesn't care for you. He's manipulating you to get to me.”

“He's not manipulating me. I agreed to help him.”

“So it seems that Lucia Damora is capable of speaking the truth.” He shook his head, then looked at her with what Lucia recognized as pity. “You are filled with so much anger and pain and grief. Yet instead of letting those emotions run through you and make you stronger, you choose to unleash them on the rest of the world so that others might feel your pain as well.”

“Are we done here?” Lucia snapped, trying her hardest not to think of anything truthful, lest Timotheus use it against her. “I'm getting very bored.”

“You think this armor you've created will protect you, but it's only a distraction. Beneath it you're still the same spoiled and selfish girl you've always been.”

Her mouth dropped open. If she could summon even a fraction of her magic, he would be engulfed in flames by now.

“Kyan's right,” she snarled. “You are just like Melenia. And you deserve to be destroyed every bit as much as she did. Although, I suppose your death won't come as a surprise to you, will it?”

“Do you think I was surprised by Melenia's death, child?”

“Stop calling me ‘child,'” she said through gritted teeth.

“I saw her death,” he said, tapping his temple. “I saw it nearly seventeen years ago.”

“You ‘saw' it?” She frowned. “You're able to see the future, too?”

“On occasion.”

Lucia couldn't wait to get away from this monster and return to Kyan, but now she found herself quite curious. The more she learned about him, the more power she'd have when they finally met in the flesh.

“Do all Watchers have prophetic abilities like yours?” she asked. “Melenia had my father believing she could see his future, and how powerful he'd become if he listened to her. However, she didn't see her own fate.”

“Melenia didn't possess the sight. If she had, she would have been a very different Watcher.”

“So you're the lucky one, are you?”

“Lucky?” Again, he didn't smile. His expression remained plaintive as he regarded her with those ancient golden eyes, set perfectly in his young golden face. “When Eva's magic was stolen from her, I became the heir to her visions. So yes, I am the only one in the Sanctuary lucky enough to see all possible futures, to have them tearing through my mind constantly and unbidden.”