Frozen Tides (22 page)

Mikah smirked. “There are thousands of us, all organized in factions and stationed across the empire, readying ourselves to rise up and fight.”

“Thousands of you.” Felix raised his brow. “Well, that does sound more intimidating than the duo standing before me. Still, yours is only a small army compared to what the emperor has to protect him.”

“That's why we want your help.”

Felix snorted.

“I heard what you said to the princess this morning. I was listening in on you.”

“I knew you were a pervert.”

“Shut up and listen to me. Princess Amara mentioned the Kindred—that your king has access to one. That their powers are real. If all of that is true, then we need to get that crystal from the king.”

Felix nearly laughed. “Oh, is that all? Then you should ask the king for it. I'm sure he'd be happy to help you out.”

Without warning, Taran smashed his fist into Felix's face.

Swearing, Felix clamped his hand down over his nose, which was gushing blood. “You broke it. Congratulations. You've just given me my sixth broken nose, and now I'm going to kill you.”

“Try it. I dare you.” Taran pulled back his cloak to reveal the gleaming blade of a dagger. “Or instead, you could shut your mouth and take us seriously. Because we are very serious.”

“Apologies, Felix,” Mikah said, glaring at Taran. “My friend here is a bit of a . . . free spirit. Probably due to his Auranian heritage.”

Auranian? Felix knew there was a reason he'd taken an immediate dislike to Taran. “So you're the leader of this revolution, are you, Mikah?”

“Here in the Jewel, yes. I've been at the palace for ten years preparing for this revolution, following in my father's footsteps.”

“Ten years?”

Mikah nodded. “Our battle will be a long one, and it has taken us two generations to prepare. But we will fight to end the emperor's rule and free our people from his cruelty and greed, no matter how long it takes.”

It certainly sounded like a worthy fight. Most definitely doomed, but worthy.

“You're going to fail, and you're all going to die,” Felix said. “You must know that, right?”

He was expecting Taran to attempt another strike, but instead
the two revolutionaries only looked at him solemnly. “Perhaps,” Mikah said.

“So why go through with it?”

“Because if you don't choose to fight against the wrong in the world, then you
are
the wrong in the world.”

This guy had devoted his entire life to this rebellion, and it hadn't even begun yet. A rebellion Mikah knew they'd probably lose.

But he wanted to try anyway.

That sick, twisting slice of darkness that had stayed inside of Felix ever since he'd left Jonas and Lysandra and aligned with the King of Blood now grew tighter and darker within him. How could he be a rebel? He was nothing but a killer.

Before today, Felix hadn't believed he had any real choice about that.

“I might have an idea that could help,” Felix finally said.

Mikah eyed him. “What is it?”

“I'm going to need to send a message to Prince Magnus Damora.”

“What? The King of Blood's little heir?” Taran spat out, eyeing Felix with both disgust and wariness, as if to question his sanity.

“Yup. The same little heir who's rumored to have killed a palace guard in order to rescue an enemy of his father. And now, in King Gaius's absence, he has has taken over the throne in Limeros.”

“Rumors aren't facts,” Taran scoffed.

“No. But, apologies, they're still about a thousand times more potentially useful to your revolution than anything you've told me today.”

Mikah studied him, his brow furrowed in thought. “If these rumors do prove true, it sounds as if Prince Magnus might be staging a rebellion of his own.”

“I'm sure it's more complicated than that. But if father and son are currently at odds, the prince will want to know the king's
plans—including that the king now has a shiny Kindred in his possession—and he could possibly become an ally.”

“Possibly,” Taran repeated. “But not definitely. That doesn't sound like much of a plan to me. In fact, it sounds outright reckless.”

“It would be a risk, sure. But I'm the one putting my neck on the line.”

“Why would you do this?” Mikah asked, his tone thick with suspicion. “Why would you help us? Just a moment ago you were threatening to kill us.”

“Hey, you came to
me
for help, remember? Help you wanted so bad I now have a broken nose to show for it. And you're complaining that I'm willing to give that help to you?”

“That doesn't answer my question. Tell me why you've changed your mind.”

Felix went silent for a moment as he sorted through his jumbled thoughts. “Perhaps I've finally chosen once and for all to fight for the right things.” He absently scratched his arm. His clan tattoo had started to itch, as if to protest his decision.

Mikah grinned. “Welcome to the revolution, Felix.”

“Happy to be here.”

Taran's expression remained rigid, his eyes narrowing on Felix.

“You're still officially with the Clan of the Cobra,” Taran said. “Mikah here might believe you when you say your loyalties have shifted, but how would you convince someone like the prince?”

Now, that was an excellent question. What could he possibly write in that message, sent from his current station as the king's bodyguard, that might gain the prince's trust?

Felix scratched his itch again, then pulled up his sleeve to look down at his snake tattoo. The physical evidence of his oath to the Clan and to the King of Blood, etched into his very skin.

“I think I know a way,” he said.

MAGNUS

LIMEROS

T
he princess wore blue.

The princess
always
wore blue.

Magnus leaned against a palace wall, watching Cleo and Lord Kurtis as they began her archery lesson for the day. It was the first time he'd gone out to watch her practice, but after Nic and all of Cleo's little rebel friends vanished from the palace in the dead of night without permission—allegedly to buy a gift for the princess in celebration of her seventeenth birthday—he'd decided to keep a closer eye on the deceitful princess.

His fury at learning that his new “allies” had disappeared with all of the information he'd revealed to them had since calmed into a seething, but controllable anger. The princess had not accompanied them. If she had, he would be scouring the land for all of them and would show no mercy when they were found.

Nic, he knew, would return. He would never abandon his precious princess so easily.

And, so, Magnus waited.

Since then, he'd grown much more curious about Cleo and her progress with a bow and arrow.

She wore a cloak of robin's-egg blue, which she'd purchased in Ravencrest a few days ago. She'd taken Nerissa with her, and after a day of shopping, they'd stopped in at Lady Sophia's villa.

Lady Sophia's villa.
A place that would forever hold unavoidable memories for Magnus. And none of them had anything to do with Lady Sophia herself.

Magnus narrowed his eyes as he watched Kurtis place his gloved hand upon Cleo's shoulder and whisper something in her ear. A small fleet of guards that Magnus had appointed—more to protect Cleo from Kurtis than from any outside threats—stood rigidly a few paces beyond them.

Now the kingsliege motioned toward a target twenty paces in front of them. Cleo nodded with confidence before expertly notching an arrow in her bow.

She drew back the string, aimed, and—

Magnus held his breath.

—the arrow flew straight up into the sky, as if she'd been targeting a cloud. It landed only a few paces away from her, burying itself in the snowy ground.

Hmm
.

Kurtis edged closer to Cleo and gave her an encouraging smile as he handed her a new arrow to try again. She nodded firmly, then put the arrow into place, pulled back, aimed, and . . .

Magnus watched Kurtis shield his eyes from the sun as he followed the arrow's upward path. Then, suddenly, he started and leapt out of the way to avoid being hit as it came back down.

Magnus covered his mouth to conceal his grin.

Oh, princess. You're absolutely dreadful at this, aren't you?

She tried twice more, with the same results, then threw the
bow to the ground, stomped her foot, and gestured angrily at the target.

“Now, now,” Magnus said under his breath. “Don't be a sore loser.”

Then, as if somehow she could hear him across such a distance, she turned in his direction. Their eyes met.

He froze, instantly remembering the painful animosity of their last confrontation and the fresh hatred that blazed in her eyes when she'd mentioned Theon.

But instead of turning away, he began to clap. “Oh, well done, princess. You've a natural gift.”

Cleo narrowed her eyes and frowned, then headed straight for the palace gate closest to Magnus, leaving Kurtis behind without a farewell. Magnus gave him a dark look, then strode over and met Cleo at the entrance.

She pulled off her gloves. “You can make fun of me all you want, I don't care. You weren't invited to watch.”

“This is my home, my palace. I can do anything I want, including watch you practice your incredible weaponry skills.” As much fun as it sometimes was to taunt her, he had more important matters on his mind. “Tell me, princess. When will your friends be returning?”

“I've already told you, Magnus, I have absolutely no idea. I'm quite sure that they would never have predicted you would be so upset by their absence. I'm certain that they'll be back soon.”

“How can you be certain of that if you've no idea where or why they've gone?”

She smiled brightly. “Don't you have a council meeting to go to?”

Avoiding the subject, princess?
he thought.
I'd expect no less.
“They can wait.”

“Are you sure? If I were you, I wouldn't want to do anything that might make them any unhappier than they already are.”

What very little patience he had left was waning. “Luckily, you're not me.”

He knew Kurtis continued to fill the council's ears with all kinds of tales of his ineptitude, telling them he's a fool who makes poor decisions, who didn't know how to lead. That rooster could crow all he wanted—it wouldn't make any difference. Magnus knew he was a worthy leader. And, unlike both the council and his father, he actually cared about the lives of Limerians.

He sighed aloud. “Why do I bother to speak with you at all? We'll never see eye to eye on any subject.”

“Perhaps it's because you have no one else to talk to?”

The insult landed with a sting that he didn't expect. A muscle in his scarred right cheek twitched. “How true. No one knows me like you do, princess.”

She looked at him with a furrowed brow. “That was unkind of me to say.”

“The truth is never unkind, princess. It's liberating. Now, if you'll excuse me.” Magnus turned and walked away from her before she could reply.

• • •

Several days later, Enzo arrived at his door. “They're ready, your highness.”

Magnus nodded at the guard and rose from the table piled high with parchment. He was grateful for the chance to have a bit of respite from the monotony of staring at endless lines of small, cramped cursive for hours, by candlelight, trying to master each and every detail of each and every law of his land.

Enzo escorted him to the northwest tower, where the king kept cold quarters for high-profile prisoners who were too valuable to throw in the dungeon with the common thieves and criminals. The walls were coated with a thin layer of ice, but the
guards were under orders to ensure that the temperature stayed bearable.

At the top of the narrow spiral staircase, Magnus stepped into a small, circular room to greet the tower's two newest inhabitants.

“Welcome back.”

Two pairs of eyes stared back at him, one flashing with hatred, the other with pure emptiness. There was Nic, straining against the chains that held his arms above his head. Locked up right across from him was Jonas, who hung slack in his shackles.

“Why do you have us chained up like thieves?” snarled Nic. “Where is Cleo? I want to see Cleo!”

Magnus moved closer to him. “You're chained up like a thief, dear Nicolo, because when I pledge a partnership with someone, I assume a certain level of trust going forward. I don't leave in the night, without any word or hint at where I'm going. What you did is unacceptable. As far as I knew, you were off gathering an army to help overthrow me.”

“What an inspired idea. Wish I'd thought of it myself.”

“You still don't think very much of me, do you, Cassian?” Magnus smiled and patted Nic's cheek.

“You don't want to know what I think of you.” Nic growled. “I need to see Cleo.”

“And I need you to tell me what you've been up to this last week so that we can all be friends again. Then again, it has been a while since I've seen an execution. That last one was quite entertaining. Remember, Agallon? It was very . . . explosive, no?”

Jonas neither responded nor moved.

Given the rebel's usual defiance, his silence was unnerving to Magnus.

“We were acquiring a gift for the princess,” Nic said. “It takes time and effort to find something worthy.”

“I'd rather hear it from Agallon.” Magnus grasped the rebel's chin and raised his face up, expecting Jonas to spit in his face. Instead, Jonas simply stared straight forward, his eyes glazed over and dull.

“What's wrong with you?” Magnus frowned and flicked a glance at Nic. “Is he drunk?”

Nic's expression had grown haunted. “No.”

Magnus let go of Jonas and walked a slow circle around the two prisoners. “Leave us,” he said to the guards.

The guards bowed and left, closing the door behind them.

“Where are the two girls you were traveling with? Lysandra and Olivia?” Magnus asked. Jonas and Nic had returned to the palace grounds alone.

“Olivia's gone. And Lys . . .” Nic swallowed hard. “Lysandra's dead.”

Jonas flinched, as if someone had cracked a whip against his back.

Magnus was silent for a moment, trying to process the shock and strange sensation of dread that came with this news. “How?” he asked.

Finally, Jonas rasped out: “Your sorceress sister.”

Magnus's breath caught in his chest. “Lucia? You've seen Lucia?”

Jonas nodded weakly. “The man she was with, he murdered Lys. She tried to protect me, so he blasted her with fire. And then she was . . . just . . . gone.”

The pain in Jonas's voice was a living thing. Magnus felt its sharp claws dig deeply into his chest.

Lucia and the man who'd tried to kill him with fire magic had been haunting his dreams ever since her visit.

“He must be a powerful witch,” Magnus said.

“I don't think he's a witch,” said Nic, his earlier bravado all but
disappeared. “I've seen him twice now and it . . . he seems much more powerful than that. Princess Lucia must have claimed the fire Kindred. And somehow she and Kyan figured out how use its magic. He's in control of it now.”

Magnus remembered the elemental wildfire that had broken out during the rebel attack on the road camp in eastern Paelsia. Whenever the fire touched a person, its flames burned blue, then shattered its victim like an ice sculpture.

To think that this power was out there, controlled by someone traveling with his sister . . .

“Why did you go there?” Magnus asked when he'd found his voice. “What did Princess Cleo want you to find for her there?”

“Cleo had nothing to do with it,” Nic insisted. “We were visiting a market to search for a gift, just like I said. That's all.”

Magnus could have the boy tortured, beaten, put into isolation—but he knew his story would never change. As for Jonas, he was already half dead by the look of him.

If the rebel had truly been broken by this, he'd be of no use to Magnus at all.

“What about our deal?” Magnus asked, looking directly at Jonas.

He lifted his gaze. “You're choosing now, of all times, to ask me about that?”

“I am. And I demand an answer.”

“I don't know. I don't know about anything anymore.”

“I empathize with your pain, Agallon, I truly do. But this is a new day, which will be followed by another and then another after that. Your friend is dead, and that's a tragedy, but nothing else has changed. Do you remember what you agreed to?”

“Yes.”

“And are we still in agreement?”

There was an extended silence, through which Magnus waited patiently.

“We are,” Jonas finally said.

Magnus summoned the guards back into the tower. “Unchain these two, feed them, clean them up, and bring them to me in the throne room. We have an important matter to discuss.”

• • •

Jonas and Nic were brought into the throne room, both wearing fresh clothes and no longer smelling like they'd been traveling for days without a wash.

“Sit,” Magnus instructed.

Jonas took a seat, then Nic reluctantly did the same.

Magnus pushed aside a stack of papers and picked up a message he'd received by raven that very morning. He slid it toward Nic. “Read it. Out loud.”

With a sullen look on his face, Nic picked up the message, squinting at it in the dim late afternoon light.

Your Highness, Prince Magnus Damora,

Since I'm currently in Kraeshia, let me be as blunt as its people. I have been working as your father's bodyguard during his trip here. He has offered the air Kindred to Emperor Cortas in exchange for sharing power over all of Mytica and Kraeshia.

Nic paused, then looked up. “The king has the air Kindred?”

Jonas had gone completely pale. “Keep reading,” he said, and Nic went on.

Should the emperor refuse, believe me when I tell you that both you and your kingdom will be at great risk. I strongly
advise you to respond to this message immediately, as well as send a representative here to Kraeshia as soon as possible. Mytica will need all the support it can get right now.

I've included a piece of evidence to prove that I'm no longer loyal to King Gaius and his ruthless greed.

With great hope for the future under your rule,

Felix Graebas

Nic unfolded the last length of the message and pulled out what looked like a small, dry piece of parchment. He held it up to the light. “What is this?”

Jonas moved toward Nic to get a closer look at it. His eyes widened with shock. “Flayed skin. With a tattoo on it.”

Nic dropped the piece of skin onto the tabletop.

Magnus nodded. “That is the official Clan of the Cobra mark—a group of skilled assassins who work specifically for my father. Felix must have sliced it off his own arm.”

Finally, a small spark of life returned to Jonas's gaze. “I know Felix.”

“You know him?” Magnus's gaze snapped to the rebel's. “How?”

“I thought he was a friend before I learned about his ties to your father. We had a . . . falling-out, and then he took off, back to the king who gave him the assignment to infiltrate my group.”

“Small world,” Magnus said, now unsure of the true intentions behind this message. “And proof enough that he isn't trustworthy.”

“Two weeks ago I might have agreed with you,” said Jonas, eyeing the tattoo and shaking his head. “But not now. Felix had decided to leave the Clan when he joined me, seeking redemption for his past. He was a true friend, and all I did was let him down.” He went silent for a moment. “I believe he's telling the truth.”