Gathering Darkness (32 page)

CLEO

LIMEROS

N
ic had the crystal. It was real. One component of the legendary Kindred was here, within Cleo's reach, and it was every bit as beautiful as she'd always imagined it would be.

“What's this, Ashur?” Amara's tone was even, but her expression had turned as icy as the frozen shards scattered around the temple.

“I've never been interested in violence, sister,” he said. “Except when absolutely necessary. That's where you're more like our father than I'll ever be. If he knew that even that single crystal existed, he'd crush this kingdom to dust to find it, and he'd kill everyone here who stood in his way. I didn't realize how much you have in common with him until now.”

They were working together—Nic and Ashur. The thought was sweet relief itself to Cleo, just when she had thought all was lost. She spared a glance at Magnus to find him focused on the confrontation, his fists clenched at his sides.

Amara looked mad enough to spit. “I've killed no one who didn't directly oppose or threaten us. But I don't understand. How did Nic get here before us? He was tied up!”

“Tied up . . . with the dagger I gave him on the ship.”

She hissed out a breath. “And the guard?”

“I took the liberty of slipping some sleeping potion into the flask he always carries with him. And I also asked the driver to take us here the long way to ensure Nic arrived first.”

Amara stared at him with disbelief and disgust. “All for what, Ashur? So this
servant boy
could claim the crystal for you, like the loyal minion you've trained him to be?”

Loyal minion? Cleo glanced at Nic with alarm and he gave her a squeamish look and a slight shake of his head, an attempt to rebuke Amara's claim.

Ashur stepped forward, closer to the heat of the fire, all around which the melted snow and ice had formed a moat. “That crystal isn't for me or any other mortal to possess, and certainly not Father in particular. He's already more than powerful enough.”

“But I want it,” she said.

“No. This magic must stay here and be kept under lock and key. It's too dangerous to be taken elsewhere.”

Amara stared at him as if seeing him clearly for the first time in her life. “You're insane, do you know that? I had no idea my brother was insane. I thought he was irresponsible and self-indulgent, but that he could be cunning and deceptive when the situation called for it. I appreciated that, but now you've been cunning and deceptive with me. I thought we were more alike.”

“We are in many ways, Amara. But not in this way.”

Cleo remained completely still. Was this true? Did he really oppose his sister in her lust for power?

The very thought of Amara having access to the Kindred, even one of them, sickened Cleo. The girl was unpredictable, but she'd tonight she'd also proven that she was ruthless.

“For what it's worth,” Nic spoke up, clutching the crystal as he drew closer to Ashur, “and to address an earlier accusation, I'm nobody's minion. But I am helping Prince Ashur—and in turn he will help us too, Cleo. I thought he was using me, betraying me, but he's on our side. None of this would be possible without him.”

“Isn't that sweet,” Amara hissed. “Brother, you do have real feelings for him after all. I had no idea. You deceived me completely. All for a lowly Auranian guard who isn't worth wiping your boots on.”

Real feelings?
Nic had told Cleo about the confusing kiss he'd shared with the prince. Perhaps that confusion had cleared way to something . . . more?

Nic wouldn't meet her gaze.

Ashur narrowed his eyes. “Give this up, Amara. You've lost. It's over.”

She shook her head, then began to laugh lightly. “Of course. You're right. I've been out of control. I needed someone to shake me like this, to show me the path I'd chosen wasn't right.” She let out a shaky breath and drew closer to him, took hold of his sleeve and looked up at his face. “I'm so sorry.”

That was a swift surrender. Cleo watched her with disbelief as Amara embraced her brother.

“I forgive you.” Ashur kissed her forehead, relief flooding his eyes. “I would forgive my family for anything.”

“Unfortunately, I'm not nearly as forgiving.” Steel flashed in her grip as she pulled a dagger from the folds of her cloak. Before Cleo could scream or even take another breath, Amara plunged it upward into Ashur's chest.

He stared at her, his eyes wide.

“Father will be so disappointed in you,” she said as she twisted the knife sharply.

Ashur grabbed his sister's arms, shoving her back from him. He pulled the dagger out of his chest with a grunt of pain, then fell, hard, to his knees.

“No!” Nic yelled, running to Ashur's side.

Amara nodded at a guard, who slammed his fist into Nic's face. He fell to the ground and lost his grip on the crystal, sending it rolling away across the floor.

Amara leaned over and picked it up.

Nic, his nose gushing blood, scrambled to press his hand against the wound in Ashur's chest.

Cleo and Magnus looked on, horrified.

Ashur clutched the front of Nic's cloak, staining it with his blood. “Please forgive me. I never wanted anyone to get hurt—especially not you.”

“I forgive you,” Nic whispered, his voice breaking. “I forgive you for everything.”

Ashur slumped against him, his gaze going glassy and blank.

Trembling now, Cleo watched Amara carefully for any reaction to having just killed her own brother.

“The emperor won't be happy with this,” Magnus said, in a low voice.

Amara sighed. “You're right, he won't. When I tell him that his youngest son was killed by King Gaius's heir, he'll want revenge.” She glanced at Cleo, who stared at her with shock and disgust. “Vengeance as it was meant to be—swift and merciless, leaving nothing behind but bones. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must return to Kraeshia, where I can mourn my brother with my own people. But thank you both for leading me to this.”

Amara slipped the sphere of aquamarine into her cloak and pointed to three of her guards. “Stay here and kill them all. Burn their bodies. Leave nothing behind to show we were ever here. And you two,” she gestured toward the other guards, “come with me.”

She passed close enough to Magnus that, for a moment, Cleo thought he might reach out and snap her neck, but he didn't. That, Cleo felt, was unfortunate. His tendency to use violence to solve his problems would have been perfectly acceptable this time.

She turned to look at Nic holding Ashur's lifeless body in his arms. Nic didn't move, barely breathed, his frozen expression one of pain and grief.

Cleo's heart ached for him.

Nic mourned the prince's death, but he wouldn't have to for long.

The princess had already given her guards the order to make sure the three of them followed Prince Ashur to the everafter.

MAGNUS

LIMEROS

“
A
ll right,” Magnus said as calmly as possible after Amara and two of her guards had left the temple. “It's time to negotiate. I have every intention of walking out of here with my life, so the only question is: How much gold will that cost me?”

The guard who'd shoved him and called him “boy” stepped closer, inspecting him as if he were a piece of dung he'd found on the bottom of his boot. “Gold?”

“Yes. From what I know of Kraeshians, they enjoy a lavish lifestyle on par with that of the Auranians. My father is king. He has plenty of gold. I can arrange for a great deal of it to find its way into your possession.”

“For all three of you?”

“Amara asked you to kill us and burn our bodies. There are bodies outside that would be sufficient stand-ins for all three of us.”

“Interesting proposition. But it's not going to happen.”

Magnus's upper lip thinned. “She just killed her brother and plans to blame it on me. Do you really think she's going to let any witnesses live?”

“She needs us.”

“She needs no one. Now that she has that crystal, she has everything she came here for. We can't let her board a ship with it. We can't let her leave Limeros.”

The attentions of all three guards closed in on Magnus. Out of their eye line, Cleo slowly moved toward Nic and knelt down to pick up Amara's discarded dagger.

She was not helping matters at all. Cleo might have many hidden skills, but Magnus would be willing to wager that the fine art of weaponry was not one of them.

Suddenly her movement caught the attention of a guard, who grabbed her and knocked the blade from her grip. He struck her hard across her face, causing her to shriek and stagger backward. She fell against the altar, striking her head on its edge.

It took all the willpower Magnus had not to move from his spot. He had to wait for the right moment.

The other two guards turned to look at her, laughing.

Magnus struck. He grabbed one guard's arms, seizing the moment of his surprise to steal his sword and stab the Kraeshian in his side.

It worked better than he'd expected. At least until another guard's fist found his jaw, making his head spin and his teeth rattle. He dropped his stolen sword and it clattered to the floor. Magnus ducked in time to miss the swipe of a blade. With the next attempt by the guard to bring his sword down on him, Magnus caught the metal between his hands. It sliced his skin, but he managed to jam the hilt of the sword into the guard's gut, allowing him to yank the weapon right out of his grip.

Without hesitation, Magnus spun and impaled the guard through his throat.

Then something hit the side of his head and he fell to the floor with his arm at an awkward angle. As he landed on it with his full weight, he heard a sickening crack and an excruciating pain shot through his arm.

He was about to rise up to his feet again, but the guard—the same guard who'd shoved him earlier—loomed over him, pressing the tip of his sword to Magnus's chest.

“Stay down,” the guard snarled. “And lose the weapon.”

Magnus dropped the bloody sword. “You'll notice I didn't kill you first as I previously promised I would,” he said.

“No, you didn't. And I haven't killed you yet, either.”

“Are you waiting for a special invitation?”

This guard sneered down at him after casting a glance at his two fallen associates. “I think you might be right about Princess Amara. She won't let me live after what I've seen here tonight.”

Magnus wasn't dead yet, which meant there was still room for negotiation. “I'm thrilled to be right about something tonight. Truly.”

“Where are the other crystals?”

Magnus's jaw tensed. “You want crystals, do you?”

“I don't care about gold. Gold can be stolen, spent, lost. Those crystals . . . that's power I can use.”

All Magnus knew about the crystals with absolute certainty was that they belonged in only one person's hands: his. However, this guard didn't have to know that. “I can certainly take you to the next location, since you asked so nicely.”

The guard jabbed him with the sword. “Where?”

“Sure, I tell you and you kill me. Doesn't seem like a very good deal.” Not to mention Magnus had no idea where the other two crystals were.

The guard's expression twisted into one of greed. “I could kill her, you know. Princess Amara. I could climb aboard that ship, steal the crystal, and throw her body overboard.”

“And I wholeheartedly encourage you to attempt that. Go. Leave now while you still have a chance to catch up to her entourage.”

“First, I need to take care of the three of you. You don't know anything that could help me. You're no good to me.”

Magnus's sword arm was badly injured, probably broken. He had no weapon. He was flat on his back with a blade pressed against his heart.

He'd put up a reasonable fight. Sadly, he'd lost, and his life would be the price he'd have to pay.

Now, later . . . What difference did it make in the end?

Magnus had lied to Cleo. Once the king learned what he'd done—killed Cronus to save Cleo's life—his trust in Magnus would be irreparably broken. The scar on his face was a constant reminder of what happened when he displeased his father. He had received it as punishment when he was merely an innocent, if mischievous, boy. As a man, he'd be held fully accountable for his actions, and another scar would be the very least of what he'd expect to receive. He didn't regret what he'd done, but it hadn't only been an act of betrayal; it had been one of treason.

And he knew very well that the penalty for treason was death.

“Go ahead, then,” he growled. “What are you waiting for?”

“Nothing at all, anymore.” The guard sneered at him. “Imagine my good fortune of being the one to kill the King of Blood's heir. What an honor.”

But then an arm reached around the guard and an already bloody blade slashed his throat, creating a wide crimson line that spilled onto his green uniform.

The guard dropped his sword, staggered backward, and clutched at the gaping wound on his throat before falling to his side in a heavy, twitching heap.

Cleo dropped the dagger and it clattered against the smooth, cold floor.

“That,” she said, her voice brittle and shaking, “makes us even. All right?”

Magnus stared up at her, utterly stunned. “All right.”

She held his gaze for a moment longer, and then ran to Nic, who'd watched everything from across the temple in a state of shock. He grabbed hold of her and pulled her to him in a tight hug.

It seemed that Magnus had escaped death in the exact moment he'd been ready to accept it.

How unexpected.

He pushed himself up to his feet using his uninjured arm, and glared in the princess's general direction. “We need to find Lucia. And we need to get that crystal back from Amara.”

Nic gave Ashur's body a final, pained look before he and Cleo left the temple. Magnus watched as the princess passed him, more annoyed now than he'd been before.

“What?” she demanded.

“Nothing,” he growled in return. “Stop wasting time. Let's go.”

Magnus had come to a horrible realization. One he knew would cause him nothing but pain and suffering from that day forward.

But there was no changing the truth of it.

He had fallen in love with her