Gathering Darkness (31 page)

With that, he tightened his grip on the hilt of his dagger, and with every iota of strength and will he had left, thrust the blade into his own heart.

“No!” Lucia screamed. “Alexius! No!”

The pain was intense, but it was different from the pain of resisting Melenia's spell. This pain would finally free him from the spell that had made him her slave.

The golden swirl on his chest began to glow brighter beneath the blood now masking it. His blood mingled with Lucia's as the ice storm finally began to subside.

She pulled him against her, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“I love you,” he said. “And I'm so sorry I couldn't be stronger for you.”

She shook her head, pressing her hands against his wound. Her hands began to glow. She was trying to heal him

It almost made him smile. She already knew that earth magic couldn't heal an exiled Watcher, neither his magic nor hers. And yet she still tried.

A ragged cry escaped her throat. “You can't leave me. I need you.”

Finally, after so long under Melenia's command, his head was clear of her influence. It meant he didn't have much time left, but he would use that time to help the girl he loved.

He drew her closer to him. “Please, listen to me. Listen very carefully . . .”

Her hot, salty tears fell against his skin as he began to speak, but their warmth couldn't stop the chill that swiftly spread through his body. Throughout his long life, he'd always wondered what the moment of his death would be like—if it ever came. He'd never thought he would be foolish enough to leave the Sanctuary, to risk his immortality for a girl.

But for this girl, he would gladly risk anything.

And before death finally claimed him, he kissed her one last time and told her what she needed to know about what was soon to come . . .

MAGNUS

LIMEROS

A
s if this trip to Limeros hadn't given him enough problems to deal with, the fact that the Kraeshians were every bit as deceitful as his father believed them to be added a whole new set of troubles. On the carriage ride to the temple, Magnus imagined how he would kill them.

Slowly, he thought. Very slowly.

“Are we there yet?” Amara asked her brother, her usually honeyed voice edged with impatience.

“It won't be much longer,” Ashur replied.

Magnus couldn't help noticing that the carriage driver had chosen to take a meandering route to the temple after Ashur informed him of their destination. It had taken nearly twice as long to get there as it should have.

The dawdling ride gave him plenty of time to consider this unfortunate situation, but not enough to figure a way out of it.

He wished he'd seen Amara's threat before now, but he'd been distracted by her beauty and refreshing bluntness. Certainly he couldn't have been the first to make that mistake.

Cleo sat across from him in the carriage, her hands folded on her lap as she quietly gazed out of the window at the snowy landscape speeding past. On the surface, she was so serene, but he was certain a storm raged behind those eyes. There was no way Cleo would have let them kill Nic; he knew that. He didn't even blame her for telling them about the temple while under such pressure.

Well, he blamed her a
little
. But what was done was done.

They finally reached the temple. Magnus stepped out of the carriage, then halted, shocked. An ice storm of a magnitude he'd never witnessed before had ravaged the place. Thick shards of ice protruded from the snow-covered ground. Bodies, some of which had been cut cleanly in half by the gargantuan blades of ice, were scattered everywhere. Blood, black as ink, stained the frosty ground.

Cleo looked around with horror. “What happened here?”

Amara surveyed the scene with her hands on her hips. “An elemental disaster, by the looks of it. I choose to think of this as merely a good sign that we've arrived at the right place.”

Magnus crouched next to a body, feeling the man's throat to find it nearly frozen solid. It was enough to tell him this hadn't just happened. At least an hour had passed since this man had died.

The skies were dark but cloudless, displaying nothing but the bright full moon to light the gory scene before them while the rest of Limeros slept.

“Shall we go inside?” Ashur asked briskly.

Magnus hesitated, and a guard shoved him forward. His hands itched for a weapon, but he'd been fully disarmed at Lady Sophia's villa.

Walking inside, Magnus saw that the ice had also penetrated the temple walls. The floor was covered in a cold, crystal-clear layer, some of which had begun to melt.

The guard shoved him again as they moved down the aisle.

“Careful,” Magnus growled, “or I'll make it a point to kill you first.”

The guard laughed. “We'll see, boy.”

Boy?
This lowly Kraeshian guard didn't even bother to use his royal title. It was an insult beyond any other.

Magnus would
definitely
kill him first.

But Magnus all but forgot about the insolent guard when he noticed an alarming amount of blood pooled against the black granite floor by the altar at the front of the temple.

There were no bodies there, not even one. Only blood, lit by the eternal fire that continued to burn in the center of the temple.

His first troubled thought was of Lucia.

Where are you, sister?

“So we're here,” Magnus said, forcing himself to sound calm and totally in control. “Welcome to the Temple of Valoria.”

Amara glanced around, unimpressed. “I'm sure it looked better before the storm.”

“Not especially.”

Cleo was hugging herself with her arms crossed in front of her, as if not even her heavy cloak could keep out the cold. She locked eyes with Magnus, who quickly looked away.

“Magnus,” Amara said, “you should take more pride your little homeland. My father has always said that Limerians are moral and very well behaved, for the most part. If nothing else, King Gaius has managed to successfully control his people through fear and intimidation.”

“Fear and intimidation are tactics that work very well on those who allow themselves to be afraid and intimidated.”

Ashur remained silent, allowing his sister to do the talking. He'd seemed much more disturbed than she had by the dead bodies outside.

“Nothing to say, Prince Ashur?” Magnus asked.

Ashur gave him a tight smile. “Not really. I'd prefer to observe for now.”

“That's my brother.” Amara looked at him fondly. “An observer. A watcher. I always kid him that at any moment he'll sprout feathers and fly away to join his friends in the Sanctuary.”

How painfully unamusing. “Anyway,” Magnus began, “this is where Lucia believes the water Kindred to be. Let's start searching. This could take all night.”

All night was more than enough time to figure out a way to steal a weapon and lay waste to anyone who got in his way—starting with that insolent guard.

“Yes,” Cleo readily agreed with his ruse. “It's like a delightful game of hide-and-seek.”

He almost laughed out loud at that. Yes, so delightful, this game.

“I have a better idea.” Amara nodded at a guard, who grabbed Cleo's hand and sliced across her palm with a sharp dagger.

She shrieked, yanking her hand back from him.

Magnus fought the urge to break free and run to her. There were guards on either side of him and he knew they wouldn't hesitate to cut his throat.

“We know about the blood ritual,” Amara said. “So please, don't waste my time.”

Cleo's eyes widened. “How could you learn of . . . ?”

Magnus didn't have to wonder. The answer to this question was tied up back at Lady Sophia's villa.

Thanks to the princess, Nic knew too much. And he had trouble keeping his mouth shut. Although, to be fair, Magnus could only guess the level of duress the Kraeshians had put him under in order to get to the answers they needed.

“Don't keep me waiting,” Amara said, tapping her foot. “Or I'll send word to the guard at the villa to bring me your redheaded best friend, one piece at a time.”

Cleo exchanged another brief, pained look with Magnus, then knelt on the ground and swept some ice shards away to clear a small area. She took a deep breath in, then let her blood drip to the floor and began drawing the symbol for water: two waved parallel lines.

So much for buying them enough time to figure this out.

“There.” Cleo finished, then stood up, glaring at the Kraeshians.

Amara looked around the temple eagerly, as if expecting the roof to open up and magic to stream in.

But nothing happened.

“How long does it take?” Amara asked, her voice sharp with impatience.

“I don't know,” Cleo replied just as sharply. “Do you have somewhere else to be tonight? I'd hate to keep you from a prior commitment.”

The Kraeshian princess's expression grew sour. “Did you ever like me, Cleo? Or were you only feigning friendship in the hopes that I could save you from the utter disaster your life has become?”

“Despite whatever promises and offers you might have made to me, I could never ignore the sensation I had whenever you were nearby—like spiders crawling on my skin. I knew I couldn't trust you.”

“Or maybe you were just jealous of me because of my . . .
connection
with Magnus. You don't like how determined I am to get what I want.”

“Determined? No. Pathetic and needy? That's more like it.”

“Enough, both of you,” Ashur said.

“Not nearly, brother. Cleo should respect me for possessing exactly what she lacks: the strength to get what I want, no matter what it takes. If I were her, I wouldn't merely lie down and accept defeat without a fight. I'd burn with vengeance every day and night looking for any chance I could get to change my situation. We offered you that chance and you ignored it.”

“So it's true that alliances were offered between the three of you in an attempt to destroy my father,” Magnus said.

He couldn't say he was surprised, but this circumstance did put him in a more awkward position as the odd man out.

“Your father is meaningless in the grand scheme of things,” Ashur said. “Barely worth a moment's thought.”

“I think he'd disagree,” Magnus said. “In fact, I'm sure of it.”

“Where is it?” Amara hissed. “Why hasn't the crystal revealed itself yet? How long must we wait?”

Cleo's expression remained impassive. “I have no idea.”

Suddenly, a flash of color on the floor caught Magnus's eye. On the black granite between two benches, he saw a smear of crimson.

He drew in a sharp breath.

It was the water symbol, a second one, drawn in blood. It had to have been Lucia, benefitting from her head start.

Was this her blood? Was she all right? Happy with the boy she believed she loved? Or had he only manipulated her to get what he wanted?

There was no way to know for sure until he saw her again.

Magnus's reaction to this discovery had drawn Amara's attention. She followed his gaze to the symbol, her expression darkening immediately. “Your sister, isn't it? Lucia took the crystal.”

“It wasn't Lucia,” another voice spoke up from the opposite side of the altar, and a cloaked figure emerged from the shadows. “It was me.”

The young man pulled back his hood and, for a brief moment, Magnus was certain it would be Jonas Agallon.

But instead of Jonas's smug rebel face, a flash of messy red hair appeared.

Nic stretched out his hand to show the small sphere of aquamarine—the same color as Cleo's eyes—that he held in his hand.

Cleo stared at him with unrestrained shock. “Nic! How—how is this possible?”

“Guards, capture him,” Amara growled. “Kill him. Take the crystal.”

“No,” Prince Ashur said firmly before the guards made a move. “You will not. And if any one of you follows my sister's orders for the remainder of the night, you'll deeply regret it.”

Unexpected
, Magnus thought.
Very unexpected.

Nic moved forward, his gaze flicking to Cleo's still-shocked expression.

Magnus understood as little about this situation as Cleo did. The boy had been tied up and left under a guard's supervision. A guard who'd been instructed to kill him if he caused any problems.

Magnus decided right then and there to stop underestimating Nicolo Cassian.

NIC

FOUR DAYS EARLIER

N
ic fought through the thick fog of unconsciousness, struggling through a tangle of dreams and nightmares to find his way back into the waking world. After what felt like an eternity, he finally opened his eyes.

The potion-induced sleep hadn't been like a normal slumber. It had been heavier, deeper, and he imagined that it was exactly what death felt like.

But he was still alive. For now, anyway.

And he had one hell of a headache.

He pushed himself up and found that he was lying on a cot in a small, dark room. He made his way over to a window to his right, and, ignoring the spinning in his head, gasped at the scene outside. Dark water—as far as the eye could see—under a black curtain of night.

“We're on our way to Limeros,” a low voice said.

He spun around to find Ashur standing in the shadows. Without a single thought, Nic attacked. He tried to land a blow on the prince's perfect face, but Ashur grabbed Nic's arm and twisted it behind his back hard enough to make Nic gasp in pain.

“Be quiet, you fool,” Ashur growled. “She'll hear you.”

“You're going to break my arm.”

“Not if you stay quiet.”

“Fine.”

Ashur held on for a moment longer before he released Nic, who then turned around and punched him in the jaw. The prince whipped his head to the side, but didn't try to retaliate. He rubbed his chin, grimacing. “I deserved that.”

Nic glared at him, his fist aching and still clenched . “I'm going to kill you.”

“No, you won't. Not after you hear me out.”

“Hear you out?” Nic shouted. “Why? Do you have more lies you want to tell me?”

Ashur pressed his hand against Nic's mouth and shoved him back against the wall, his expression fierce and angry. “If she knows you're awake and making trouble, she'll have someone put you back to sleep. Permanently, if she gets her way. You're only alive now because I convinced her we need you.”

Nic shoved his hand away. “How helpful. Thanks so much.” This time, however, he kept his tone low, barely louder than a whisper.

Ashur nodded. “That's better.”

“I aim to please.”

“I know you hate me.”

“You deceived me, drugged me, and threw me on a ship against my will. I think I have every good reason to hate you. I would have handed King Gaius your arse on a platter if I'd known what you were really like.”

“My sister is ambitious. We'd never shared any of the same interests until recently. I've always been more of an explorer than her, and my explorations led me to the legends of Mytica. I found myself fascinated by them, enough to come here personally to investigate.”

Nic stared at him, exasperated. “Are you going to tell me your full life history? Seems I have time to hear it, doesn't it, locked up here on this ship?”

Ashur regarded him bemusedly and sat down in a nearby chair. It was the only piece of furniture in the room other than the uncomfortable cot Nic had gotten to know very well. “You need to hear this because it'll help you make your decision.”

“What decision?”

“Whether or not you want to help me.”

Nic laughed, a sound that was dry and humorless even to his own ears. “You used me. You played a hilarious game of ‘trick Nic,' and it worked perfectly.”

“It wasn't a game to me.” Ashur sighed. “Not all of it.”

“Speak. Say what you need to say, then leave me alone. Or kill me. One or the other.” He really shouldn't be putting ideas into the prince's mind. Perhaps it would be a good idea for him to just keep his mouth shut and listen.

“It didn't take long for Amara to grow interested in the Kindred. I was a fool to tell her anything about them, or of the legends of the Watchers. But I told her everything. I suppose I was just looking for someone to talk to, since our father had no time for me, and our brothers always seemed to be busy either commanding Father's armada to earn their glory or presiding over court when at home. Amara listened carefully and attentively, but I had no idea how serious she was until she arrived here with a plan to find the Kindred, no matter what it took.”

“And here we are,” Nic said with distaste. “You two make a fantastic team.”

“No, not a team. I don't approve of her tactics. I am quite disgusted by her desire for power.”

This was hard to believe, to say the least. “And what do
you
want the crystals for? To decorate an empty shelf?”

“That's more along the lines of how I think they should be dealt with. The Kindred are dangerous—collectively and individually. My aim is to keep these crystals from those who would abuse their power.”

“If you say so.”

Ashur had the nerve to smile at this, which annoyed Nic deeply.

“What's funny?” he demanded.

“You are.”

“Great. Just what I need right now: confirmation that I can still be a source of entertainment even after having been unconscious for—How long was I out?”

“Almost two days.”

“Two days. No wonder I'm so thirsty.” Nic raked a hand through his hair, knowing it must be sticking up in every direction. “If you say you're so damn noble—”

A shadow crossed Ashur's expression. “I never said I was noble. I've done unforgivable things in my past, but I'm different now. I'm trying to be better.”

He wanted to keep arguing, but the prince was actually getting through to him. He hated that he wanted to believe that Ashur had done this in an attempt to right his sister's actions, but it didn't change anything.

Nic needed to see Cleo again. Whatever he had to do to survive this, he would do. He had to know she was all right.

“Why didn't you let Princess Amara kill me?” he asked.

“You can't die.” Ashur looked at him as if this were a crazy suggestion. “I won't allow it. I told you that you're important to me. That wasn't a lie, Nic.”

He searched Ashur's face for deceit, but found only sincerity. “How can I ever believe anything you say again?”

“Give me a chance and I'll prove I'm worthy of forgiveness. I have a plan to stop Amara, to show her that what she's doing is wrong. It'll work. She trusts me.”

“
Trust
seems to be a common problem with you.”

Another smile played at Ashur's lips, but faded in an instant. “I know I broke a bridge between us that we'd only started to build, and I regret that most of all.”

Nic stayed silent now, afraid to talk. Talking made him vulnerable. It made him stupid. Especially with the prince, for some reason.

“I'll get you something to eat and drink. You need it.” The prince got up from his chair, pausing for a moment at the door. He looked over his shoulder. “You should know that I never planned to kiss you that night. I only meant to talk to you. That was all.”

Nic shook his head. “I don't know what to say to that.”

“Something about you called to me—your sadness, your vulnerability—and I made a foolish decision. For days afterward, I was certain I'd disgusted you.”

Nic had been confused. Uncertain, absolutely.

But he hadn't been disgusted.

Ashur met his eyes. “When this is over, I will ask your forgiveness. I won't ask now; I know it's too soon. But I promise I won't let you down again.”

Words failed Nic, until finally he managed, “And what should I do in the meantime? Pretend I'm still asleep?”

“No. Amara's no fool. She'll know you're awake. But stay quiet and don't draw attention to yourself. I'll visit you again to let you know my plan.”

“All right.”

Ashur paused. “I want to ask you something else when this is over, too.”

“What?”

Ashur's smile returned. “You'll have to wait and see.”

“Is it important?”

“Very.” He left the room and closed the door behind him.

An unexpected twist of hope took hold of Nic's chest. “Then I guess I'll wait and see.”