She felt something warm under her nose and touched it to realize that it was blood.

“The power of a god within the form of a mortal,” Gaius said with awe. “Without the full ritual to finalize it . . . it is a dangerous position for you to be in, princess. And you as well, Taran. But you’re right: We must find my son.”

Nerissa stepped forward, tentatively taking Cleo’s hand in hers and squeezing it. Cleo met her anguished gaze.

“I saw a guard hit him, princess,” she whispered, shaking her head. “He hit the prince hard and then dragged him away. I . . . I fear that Amara might be right. I’m so sorry.”

Cleo stared at her friend, her eyes burning. “No,” she managed. “No, please no. That can’t be true. It can’t be.”

Taran and Felix shared a worried look. The rebel uneasily glanced down at his own palm that bore the air magic symbol.

“What do you care of Magnus’s fate, Cleo?” Amara asked, her voice holding a tremor that Cleo had never heard before. “I thought you hated him.”

“You’re wrong, I don’t hate him,” Cleo managed softly. Then stronger: “I love him. I love Magnus with all my heart. And I swear, if he’s . . . dead . . . if I’ve lost both Nic and Magnus today . . .” Her voice broke as she raised her gaze, seeing that the others now watched her with fear in their eyes. The bottomless sensation of cool, powerful water magic flowed just beneath the surface of her skin, as if waiting to be unleashed. “I don’t think this world will survive my grief.”

CHAPTER 33

MAGNUS PAELSIA

Magnus blinked his eyes open, frowning with confusion at the aching pain in his arms. It took him a moment before he realized that he was vertical. His arms were raised above his head, shackled and chained to the ceiling.

He was in a dark room lit only by a few torches.

“He wakes. Finally. I was about to send for some smelling salts.”

He frowned, not understanding. Still dizzy.

“Greetings, my old friend.” The voice was familiar. Painfully familiar.

And then he understood all too well.

“Kurtis,” Magnus said, tasting coppery blood in his mouth. “How delightful to see you again.”

“Ah, you say the words, yet deep in my heart I know you’re lying.” The former grand kingsliege walked a slow circle around Magnus, a smug smile on his thin lips.

“What did you do with Nerissa and Nic?”

“Don’t worry about them, old friend. Worry about yourself.”

Magnus tried to summon a sense of where he was, casting a look around the room. It was difficult, since one of his eyes was swollen shut.

“I saw your lovely wife earlier,” Kurtis said. “She didn’t see me, of course. Given how we last left things between us, I feel like Cleo might still be cross with me.”

“Don’t you dare speak her name,” Magnus growled.

Kurtis stopped in front of Magnus and cocked his head, still smiling that damned smile of his. “Cleo. Cleo, Cleo, Cleo. Do you know what I’m going to do to her? I would love it, truly love it, if you could be there to watch.”

He leaned closer and whispered in Magnus’s ear a list of horrors that would cause anyone—man or woman—to beg for death long before such a relief finally came.

“I swear to the goddess,” Magnus said, “I will kill you long before you lay a single finger upon her.”

“I thought I might be getting close enough to do just that, with our archery lessons. I know you watched us. Was that jealousy in your eyes? It seems the rumors of hatred between the two of you are far from true, aren’t they? Yet what do you care about her fate anymore? She betrayed you for a chance to align with the empress.”

“I wouldn’t give a damn if she betrayed me to align with every demon in the darklands, I will still kill you if you even look at her again.”

“Yet, in your current predicament,” Kurtis glanced up at the chains, “I’d really, really like to see you try.”

“You wish to torture me? Some sort of retribution for what I did to you?”

“Oh, yes, I wish to torture you. And then I wish to kill you very slowly.” He raised the stump where his hand used to be. “And I would advise you to save your breath rather than beg for your life. You’ll need it for all the screaming you’ll do.”

Part of Magnus, deep inside, knew the truth of what he saw in Kurtis’s eyes. There would no mercy here. But Magnus Damora would not beg for his own life.

“I would make a better living ally than a dead enemy,” he said instead. “Remember, you are currently a Limerian in the center of thousands of Kraeshians and tens of thousands of Paelsians.”

Kurtis’s lips peeled back from his teeth as his sinister smile widened. “One problem at a time, my old friend. Tell me, when you returned to the palace and displaced me from the throne, I could have sworn you had a broken arm. Was it your little sorceress sister who healed it for you?”

“Perhaps I have a few tricks of my own that you don’t know about,” Magnus bluffed.

“I hope so. I sincerely do.” Kurtis glanced at two Kraeshian guards who had been behind him in the shadows. “Break both of his arms, if you would. And, I think, his right leg.”

The guards moved forward without hesitation.

“Kurtis,” Magnus said, his eyes glancing between the kingsliege and the approaching guards. “You think you’ll kill me here today and no one will know about it?”