Rebel Spring (13 page)

“You didn’t answer me before,” she said. “How long was I gone?”

“Forever. Or it seemed like it to me. It’s been almost a month and a half since the siege upon this castle.” The joy this moment should summon was dampened as Magnus remembered the girl who’d just lost her life and how she had dutifully attended Lucia for much of the time she was comatose. Lucia would never meet her, could never thank her.

Lucia’s eyes widened. “That long?”

“Father insists on staying here in Auranos as a physical reminder to everyone of his claim upon this kingdom and throne. All of Mytica is now his after . . . after his alliance with the Paelsian chief fell through.” Actually, the king had murdered Chief Basilius during a celebratory dinner. All part of King Gaius’s master plan.

Magnus sat down on the edge of the bed and gazed into Lucia’s eyes. He wanted to pull her into his arms and hold her tight, but resisted the urge. Given the strain between them from when he’d kissed her before, he knew that wouldn’t be wise.

He didn’t believe his heart would recover from her rejection, but here he was, and his pulse pounded hard and fast now that she had finally returned to him. Another chance to prove himself to her. He would not act so impulsively again.

“You’re awake now and all is well,” he said. “How do you feel?”

“Weak. And . . . horrible.” She drew in a shaky breath. “I killed people with my magic, Magnus.”

More than two hundred had died in or because of the explosion, but he chose not to share such distressing numbers with her. “No one blames you for anything that happened. It had to be done. And had it not, we wouldn’t have won. We would be the ones who died. It’s not your fault.”

“That’s what he told me too—that it wasn’t my fault.”

He looked at her sharply. “Who told you?”

She pressed her lips together and looked away. “No one.”

“Who is Alexius, Lucia?”

Her eyes, now wide, returned to lock with his. “Where did you hear that name?”

“I’m told that you whispered it in your sleep.” Something dark and endlessly unpleasant stirred within him.

“Alexius, he’s . . .” Lucia shook her head. “No one. Just a dream. Nothing more than that.”

Before Magnus could ask another question, the door creaked open and the queen entered, alone.

She greeted Magnus with a smile. “I wanted to check on Lucia, to see if she’s—” She gasped and closed the distance to the bed in only a few steps. “Lucia! My darling! You’ve come back to us. Praise the goddess!”

Lucia’s distressed expression froze away. “My, my. What a greeting. I must truly have been close to death to elicit such devotion from you.”

The queen flinched. “I suppose I deserve that.”

Lucia’s face paled. “Apologies, Mother. I—I didn’t mean such poisonous words. I’m sorry. It’s as though I couldn’t hold them back.”

“Nor should you, my darling. You must always give voice to how you feel. Don’t hold it inside.” The queen quickly composed herself and sat down on the edge of the bed. “Do you remember the last time you rose from your slumber? This has happened before.”

Magnus’s gaze shot to her. “It has?”

She nodded. “Twice before when I was here. Alas, it never lasts more than a few minutes and then she falls asleep again.”

He fisted his hands at his sides. “Why didn’t you tell me this?”

His mother turned her head at his sharp and angry tone, her expression patient. “Because I knew you would only be disappointed. I know how deeply you love your sister.”

There was something in the way she said it. Did the queen know Magnus’s dark secret as Lucia did?

He wished that they might wipe the slate clean. To return to how it was when everything was simpler between them. To start again.

Impossible.

“I don’t remember waking before,” Lucia said, confused, as she pushed herself up to a sitting position.

“You still should have told me, Mother,” Magnus growled. “And told Father, too.”

“And risk one of his rages when she slipped away yet again? No, my son. I certainly shouldn’t have. We will see how this goes, if she stays with us this time, before we say a single word about it to him.”

“I
will
stay awake,” Lucia insisted.

“Go now,” the queen said, standing up and squeezing Magnus’s hands in her own. “I’ll attend to my daughter.”

“But, Mother—”

“Go,” she said, her tone firm. “And say nothing to the king until I tell you otherwise.”

The anger that had risen inside him at the thought that his mother would keep such secrets from him hadn’t yet lessened, but he did understand why she’d chosen to do so. After all, he would have done exactly the same to protect Lucia.

“Fine.” The word was uttered through clenched teeth. “But I will come back.”

“Of course you will. You’ve never been able to stay away from her for long. She’s the only one you’ve ever truly cared about, isn’t she?”

A muscle in his scarred cheek twitched. “Wrong, Mother. I cared about you. And I could again, if you let me.”

His words had succeeded in bringing a glistening to the queen’s eyes, but her only reply was a shallow nod. He shifted his gaze to Lucia. “I’ll return soon. I promise. Please . . . don’t fall asleep again.”

Then he left them alone just as the queen commanded.

T
he majesty of the room around her took Lucia’s breath away. Compared to her more austere chambers in the Limerian palace, this was the very definition of luxury. The floors and walls shone as if set with precious metals. The breeze from the open balcony window was warm, not frigid. The canopied bed was soft, covered in imported fabrics that were colorful and silky, with fur throws that were pure white and as soft and warm as Hana’s fur.

So very strange—it was as if she was still dreaming.

Dreaming.

Alexius . . .

At first, she thought it had been him sitting vigil at her bedside as she woke. But Alexius’s hair was bronze, not black. His eyes golden and full of joy, not dark brown and pained. She hoped Magnus had not seen the disappointment in her own eyes that it was he she saw, not the boy from her dreams.

The queen sat back down on the edge of the bed and pressed her cool hand to Lucia’s forehead. “How are you feeling, my darling? Thirsty?”

Lucia nodded. “I don’t remember waking before. But you say I did?”

“Yes. Twice. But it was only for a moment.”

“Only a moment . . . not like this?”

“No.” The queen smiled. “Not like this. Then you drifted off again.”

Her gaze moved to the balcony, to the sliver of blue sky she could see beyond it. “I want to see Father.”

“Of course. Very soon.”

The queen moved off to the side to pour her some water and brought it back, holding the silver goblet to Lucia’s lips. The water was blissfully cool as it slid down her throat.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“I’ve heard what you did. How you used your
elementia
to help Gaius take this palace. Take this kingdom.” The queen sat again beside Lucia. “Many people died that day, but your father got the victory he desired.”

Lucia swallowed hard. “How many died?”

“Countless innocent lives were lost. I arrived as quickly as I could. I wanted to be here with my family, no matter what the outcome of the war. Gaius didn’t know I’d be traveling so soon. In fact, he was angry with me that I’d arrived unannounced. But I’m here. And I’ve watched over you every day since.”

Countless innocent lives.

She couldn’t blame herself for this, she told herself frantically. Her father and Magnus had been in danger—all of Limeros had been in danger. She did what she had to for her family, for her kingdom. Magnus had nearly died in front of her from injuries he’d sustained in the battle. Only her earth magic had healed him in time. Without it, he’d be gone.

And she’d do it again—every bit of it—if necessary to save those she loved.

Wouldn’t she?

Her eyes were so heavy. She was weary after only being awake a short time. It worried her that she might fall asleep again as her mother said she had before.

“Your
elementia
is destructive, Lucia,” the queen said softly. “You’ve proven that—both with Sabina’s murder and the horror of what you did here.”

Lucia’s stomach twisted. “I didn’t mean to kill all those people. And—Sabina . . .” The memory of the flames, of her father’s mistress burning, screaming, sent a shudder through her. “She had a blade to Magnus’s throat. I . . . didn’t think. I didn’t intend to kill her, only stop her.”

The queen gently stroked the long, dark hair back from Lucia’s face. “I know, my darling. Which makes it even worse. Gaius celebrates everything you can do, but there’s a heavy price that must be paid for such dark power. He’s not the one who will be forced to pay it, though. You are. And you don’t even realize it yet.”

Her mother’s words confused her. “You call it dark power?
Elementia
is natural magic . . . from the elements that created the universe itself. It’s not dark.”

“It is when it’s used to destroy. To kill. And that is what Gaius wants you for—it’s
all
he wants you for.” Her expression soured. “His endless quest for ultimate power. But at what cost?”

“He’s king. A king wants power.” Lucia moistened her dry lips with the tip of her tongue. “You don’t have to be afraid of me, Mother. Despite our past differences, I swear to the goddess I would never harm you.”

The queen smiled humorlessly at this as she lifted the goblet to Lucia’s lips so she could swallow another mouthful of the cool, soothing water. “There will soon come a time when you don’t realize whom you’re harming with your magic, Lucia. When you have no control over it anymore. When its evil completely takes you over.”

“I’m
not
evil!” While she’d rarely received anything but sharp words from this woman in her sixteen years of life, rarely had she been as wounded from them as she was right now.

The queen placed the empty goblet on the carved ebony bedside table and turned to grasp Lucia’s hands in hers. “I’ve sought answers to questions no one has asked. You don’t know what’s ahead—what to expect. You have so much
elementia
inside you that now it’s awakened it can only grow larger—like a volcano simmering, ready to erupt. And when that eruption happens . . .”

Lucia tried to harness her racing thoughts. “What? What will happen?”

There were dark circles under the queen’s eyes that hinted that she hadn’t slept well for some time. “I won’t let him destroy you for his own gain.”

“Mother, please . . .”

Her jaw tensed and she pulled away from Lucia’s grip. “He thinks I’m weak, that I stand by and watch him work his darkness without opinion or judgment. That I am only a dutiful wife who is of no consequence. But he’s wrong. I see my purpose now, Lucia. It’s to stop him any way I can. He doesn’t realize what it is he hopes to unleash upon the world. He thinks he can control that which is uncontrollable.”

Lucia found she was now trembling.

“I need to get up.” Alarmed, but still weary, she struggled to swing herself out of the bed, but the queen pressed down on her shoulder to keep her prone.

“I must kill you,” the queen whispered. “To save you from what I fear is ahead. To end this as it’s only beginning. But I can’t—not yet. When I look at you, I see the tiny, beautiful baby that was brought to me sixteen years ago. I hated you then—and I loved you.”

Lucia stared at the queen, horrified by her words.

“Now,” the queen continued, “only love remains. Love is the only thing that matters in the end. What I’ve done has been out of love, Lucia.”

A wave of dizziness washed over her and Lucia’s gaze shot to the silver goblet. “The water . . .”

“It’s a very powerful potion.” The queen touched the drinking vessel, sliding her finger around the sparkling edge. “Undetectable to anyone through taste. Sleep, my darling. Such darkness will not touch you in your dreams. Sleep in peace. And when I finally find the strength to end your life, I promise I will be gentle.”

A potion—a sleeping potion . . .

“Sleep now, my dear girl,” the queen’s voice soothed.

Lucia’s gaze slid to the balcony to see the golden edge of a hawk’s wing.

“Alexius,” she whispered as the luxurious chambers around her faded away.

P
haedra summoned him to the crystal palace and Alexius had no choice but to go to her immediately. He found her there, her beautiful face etched with worry.

“It’s Stephanos,” she said.

The name of Phaedra’s beloved mentor drew him closer. After Phaedra’s own brother was exiled from the Sanctuary twenty years ago, she had turned to both Stephanos and Alexius as her closest friends in this realm. “What’s wrong with him?”

“He’s dying.” The long, flowing cloak she wore today was a shade of platinum, nearly an exact match to her hair.

“Dying?” The word was so foreign that it felt false on his tongue.

Dying was for mortals, not for those who lived in the Sanctuary.

She grabbed hold of his shirt to pull him closer. “They don’t want many to know, but I needed you here so you could see for yourself. There’s not much time left.”

She was frantic, and Alexius knew nothing he could say to her right now would ease her pain.

“What can be done?” he asked.

She just shook her head. “Nothing. There’s no way he can be saved.”

His heart sank. “Take me there.”

Phaedra led him to the uppermost level of the palace and into a large room surrounded by a circular glass wall. Otherwise, it was open to the sky—always blue and always day, never night. The room was bare apart from a raised golden platform in the center. On this platform lay Stephanos. He was surrounded by the Three—those that made up the council of elders that governed this world. They were the oldest and most powerful of the immortals.

“Why is
he
here?” the elder named Danaus asked, his voice as unwelcoming as the question itself. He was the member of the Three that Alexius trusted the least—one he would never tell about his shared dreams with Princess Lucia, nor his discovery that she was the prophesied sorceress. Danaus was always prying into his business and trying to learn more about what Alexius did during his journeys to the princess’s world and the never-ending search for the Kindred.

The elder was jealous of Alexius’s ability to take hawk form and enter the mortal world. Since the Kindred had been lost, the three elders could no longer take hawk form. For all their power and influence among the immortals, they were trapped here and had been for a millennium.

“I wanted him here,” Phaedra said, her chin raised high. She wasn’t intimidated by any of the elders and never had been.

Then again, Phaedra didn’t know some of the secrets that Alexius did. Perhaps if she did, her bravery would waver.

“This is a private matter,” Danaus growled. “And it must remain so.”

“It’s all right,” Stephanos said, his voice as frail as his appearance. “I don’t mind another witness. You are welcome to stay, Alexius.”

“Thank you, Stephanos.”

Stephanos’s chest moved rapidly with labored breathing. Since the last time Alexius had seen him, his previously dark hair had turned white and brittle, his perfect golden skin now pallid and deeply lined like that of an old man.

A face that had never looked older than twenty-five mortal years now looked four times that.

The sight of such sudden and unexpected decay soured Alexius’s stomach, and both pity and revulsion swirled within him.

Timotheus, a more welcome sight to Alexius, nodded in his direction. He was Alexius’s own mentor. In looks alone, he could be Alexius’s older brother, even though Timotheus was twice his age. The thought of losing such a wise friend, as Phaedra was about to lose her own, pained him deeply. But Timotheus looked as young and strong as ever. The only place the elder showed his age was in his golden eyes, now heavy with worry and grief.

Timotheus nodded in his direction and offered him the edge of a grim smile to show that he did not share Danaus’s unwelcoming attitude when it came to Alexius’s presence.

And then there was the third member of the council.

Alexius felt the weight of her gaze before he chanced a glance in her direction.

Melenia’s beauty, even among the beautiful immortals, was legendary. The elder seemed chiseled from gold, her pale hair falling to her knees in soft waves, a vision of perfection in every way—physically, the most glorious immortal ever to exist. While she appeared to be as young as the others on the council, Melenia was the oldest of their kind—her age countless. Eternal.

“Yes, you are welcome to stay,” she said smoothly. “Unless you would rather not, Alexius.”

Phaedra’s grip tightened on his hand. She wanted him here, to support her in this difficult time. If she didn’t, she wouldn’t have wasted her magic in summoning him.

“Why is this happening?” Alexius asked, his throat tight.

Melenia arched her brow. “It is tragic but very simple what is happening. Our magic is fading enough that it cannot sustain every one of our kind. This is the result.”

“The tornado in Paelsia was magic—
air
magic,” Phaedra said. “I saw it myself—I was there in hawk form. It drained power from the Sanctuary, and that—I’m sure that’s what triggered Stephanos’s condition. But how? How does what happens in the mortal world affect us? I didn’t think we were connected at all. Do you think it has something to do with the road the mortal king builds through his land?”

All eyes went to Phaedra.

“You’re mistaken,” Melenia said. “What is happening to Stephanos is the result of a slow draining away of our magic that has happened over time. A natural disaster that occurred in the mortal world has nothing to do with this.”

Phaedra shook her head. “Perhaps King Gaius is being guided by one who knows about us—about how to access our magic for his own gain.”

“Nonsense,” Danaus said, looking down his nose at her. “No mortal has any effect on us, no matter who he is.”

“Are you certain of that?” Timotheus asked.

Danaus’s expression tensed. “I am.”

Timotheus smiled, an expression that did not extend to his eyes. “Must be nice to always be so certain of everything.”

“Don’t be so sure of what you speak, Danaus,” Melenia said. “Perhaps there is some validity to what Phaedra suspects. She has always been very clever. We must keep a close watch over King Gaius and his future actions. He could be a threat.”

“A threat?” Danaus scoffed. “If so, he’d be the first mortal to ever threaten us.”

“And yet, here we are.” Melenia cast a glance toward Stephanos, who’d squeezed his wrinkled eyes shut as if experiencing deep, unfathomable pain.

“All this means,” Danaus said sourly, “is that our scouts must find the Kindred to restore our magic completely so we don’t all wither away and die.”

“We’re trying,” Alexius growled. Although, in truth, he had ceased searching for the crystals when a princess with sky-blue eyes and jet-black hair had captured his full attention.

“Doesn’t seem to me that you’ve tried very hard.”

“We have. The search has never stopped, not even long after it should have. The Kindred cannot be found.”

“You’ve given up? With so much at stake? Who will next be affected after Stephanos? Perhaps it will be you!”

“Silence, Danaus.” A muscle in Timotheus’s cheek twitched. “Squabbling amongst ourselves solves nothing.”

Alexius knew that Timotheus didn’t favor either council member; in fact, he barely tolerated both of them. The Sanctuary was a small enclave, with a few hundred immortals forced to live together indefinitely. For all its beauty, it was a prison, escapable only by forfeiting both magic and immortality. And the inmates didn’t all get along.

“If nothing else,” Timotheus began, “this is absolute proof that our world is slowly descending into darkness like a sun in the mortal world slipping beneath the horizon. Even if the Kindred were returned here tomorrow, it could be too late to stop this.”

“Always the pessimist,” Melenia said drily.

“Realist,” Timotheus corrected.

Stephanos cried out in pain.

“It is time,” Melenia whispered. She walked back toward Stephanos, gazing down at his face. “I wish there was something I could do to save you, my dear friend.”

Despite her kind words, he didn’t look up at her with affection. In fact, it was as if he was seeing her today for the first time. His eyes narrowed. “You think your secrets will die with me, Melenia?”

But before he could say another word, he cried out again and arched upward, his frail body shuddering violently. And then bright white light exploded from him. Alexius staggered backward and shielded his eyes to keep from being blinded. The scream of a hawk pierced the air and the glass wall all around them shattered into a million crystal shards.

Everything before him went stark white as the scream continued. It felt as if they could never survive such a violent onslaught of both sight and sound.

Fear ripped into Alexius and he fell bruisingly hard to his knees, clamping his hands down over his ears, a scream building in his own chest.

But then all went silent. The light faded, the sound vanished. The golden platform was now empty. Stephanos’s body was gone. It had returned to the essence of pure magic it began from, the magic that sustained their world.

Phaedra staggered toward Alexius as he pushed up to his feet. He held his arms out to her and she collapsed against him, shaking.

“I thought we’d have more time!” she cried.

“It is done,” Danaus said to Melenia.

“Yes,” she replied solemnly. “He will be missed.”

Timotheus eyed the beautiful immortal curiously. “What did he mean, Melenia? What secrets did he speak of?”

She offered him a weary smile. “His mind was decaying faster than his body. So sad to witness such an end to one of the brightest and best of us all.”

“Who is to be next?” Danaus’s expression was tense. “Who of us will die next?”

“The Kindred still exists,” Melenia said evenly. “If we exist, then it exists. And it can be found before all is lost.”

“You’re certain about that?”

“I’ve never been more certain about anything.” She moved toward Alexius and Phaedra, clasping both of their hands in hers. “The loss of Stephanos has bound us together. We will go forth stronger, in trust and friendship. Yes?”

“Of course,” Alexius agreed. Phaedra remained silent.

“Go now. And speak of this to no one.”

They didn’t need to be told twice. Alexius and Phaedra departed without another word. They didn’t talk again until they’d left the palace, left the city, and journeyed as far as Alexius’s favorite meadow. He expected his troubled friend to collapse with grief. Instead, when he turned to face her, she shoved him very hard. He staggered backward, rubbing his chest and staring at her with confusion.

“What was that for?”

“For lapping up every lie that spills from her lips.”

“Who?”

“Melenia, of course. Who else? The pretty spider in her silvery web, spinning tales to wind around us all. You heard him at the end! Stephanos wanted to expose her lies.”

“He was dying. He didn’t know what he was saying.”

“Are you that blinded by her beauty that you can’t see the truth? She’s evil, Alexius!”

“You should be careful what you say about Melenia.”

She raised her chin. “I’m not afraid of her.”

“Phaedra—”

“Does she know about your little sorceress? Do any of them other than me?”

Alexius froze. “What?”

“The one you visit in your dreams.” A tense smile now played on her lips. “You think I don’t know what you do out here all alone? You talk in your sleep—Lucia . . .
Lucia
. A terrible habit for someone with secrets to keep. Are you falling in love with a mortal, Alexius? Others have walked such a path only to find themselves lost and unable to find their way back home.”

He
knew
Phaedra had been watching him. Such questions, such accusations made him feel exposed, cornered. “You will tell no one of this.”

She shook her head with disgust. “I need to go. I have places to be, mortals to watch. Dreams to visit. You’re not the only one keeping watch over specific mortals, Alexius.”

“Phaedra, no. We need to talk about this.”

Phaedra’s eyes sparkled. “I’m done talking. All I can tell you is one thing—watch out for Melenia. I’ve never trusted her, but lately . . . I know she’s up to something—and I think I know what it is. And trust me, if you aren’t smart, she will destroy you.”

Without another word she turned and began to run. Her form shimmered and shifted, taking the shape of a golden hawk that flew up high into the clear blue sky.