“I’m so sorry to hear that.”

The woman shook her head. “But then you arrived. That evil sorceress was here, destroying us village by village, but when you came, she disappeared. Your soldiers have been strict but fair. They have weeded out those who oppose them, but those people are no loss to us: Your detractors are the same men who sowed discord in our kingdom in the days after Basilius’s army stopped offering the little protection they once did. So do I believe, as so many here do, that you are the one who has arrived to save us all?” She raised her chin. “Yes, I do.”

After her guards moved Amara past the woman and her daughter to the next area of the market, the woman’s words stayed with her.

“May I make a bold suggestion, your grace?” Mauro asked her, and she spared a glance at the little man who followed her around like a trained dog.

“Of course,” she said. “Unless it’s a suggestion for me to buy lip stain.”

His face blanched. “Not at all.”

“Then proceed.”

“The Paelsian people are open to your leadership, but word must spread further. I suggest that we open the compound gates to allow your new citizens entry to hear you speak to them about your plans for the future.”

A speech, she thought. It was something Gaius would enjoy doing much more than she would.

But Gaius wasn’t here. And now that she had the fire Kindred to advise her on accessing the magic of her aquamarine orb, she had run out of reasons to allow the king to continue living for much longer.

“When?” she asked Mauro.

“I can spread word immediately. Thousands will journey here from surrounding villages to hear you. Perhaps a week?”

“Three days,” she said.

“Three days is perfect,” he cooed. “Yes, it will be wonderful. So many Paelsians, with open arms and open hearts, ready to obey your every command.”

Yes, Amara thought. A kingdom of people ready to do her bidding without question, who accepted a female leader without argument, would be incredibly useful.

CHAPTER 16

MAGNUS

PAELSIA

Magnus pondered the twelve people taking up residence at the Hawk and Spear Inn, realizing that nearly half of them wanted him dead.

“And you’re definitely one of them,” he muttered as Nic trudged through the meeting hall, glaring as he passed the prince. Magnus was sitting alone at a table in front of a sketchbook he’d found in a drawer in his room. “Cassian, look,” he called. “I drew a picture of you.”

Magnus raised the sketchbook. His fingers smeared with charcoal, he held up a page on which he’d drawn an image of a skinny boy hanging from a noose, his tongue dangling from his mouth, two morbid Xs where the eyes should have been.

Nic, allegedly a very friendly fellow to everyone else in the world, shot Magnus a look of sheer hatred. “You think that’s funny?”

“What? You don’t like it? Well, they do say art is subjective.”

“You think spending your time doodling away in that book is going to make anyone see you as less of a threat? Try again. This innocent, nice-guy act you’re putting on is wasted on me.”

Magnus rolled his eyes. “Noted,” he said, tucking the sketchbook under his arm. “But I can’t say I’m not hurt. I thought we’d become good friends back in Limeros.”

Nic narrowed his eyes, clearly not amused. “The only thing that helps me sleep at night is knowing that Cleo sees you for what you really are.”

“I certainly hope you’re right,” Magnus said dismissively. He’d never let Nic get to him before, and he wasn’t about to do so now, but the subject of Cleo was a thorn in his side. “It’s so interesting to me, the lot of you choosing to stay here in the lion’s den.”

“Perhaps you’re wrong about who’s the lion and who’s the prey.”

Magnus made a mock-snoring sound. “Conversing with you, Nic, is always so stimulating. Truly. But I’m sure you have other places to be, and I’d hate to waste the precious time of a brilliant wit such as yours. I’m sure I’ve already kept you from your next appointment, which is . . . what? Perhaps lurking about in Ashur’s shadow, waiting for a moment of his glorious attention now that he’s successfully returned from the dead?” Having personally witnessed Ashur’s death, Magnus was still trying to process the overwhelming information that he was still alive. “So sad, truly, that no one sees what’s really going on between the resurrected prince and the former stable boy.”

And that was all it took for Nic’s cheeks to burn with an immediate flush. “And what is that, Magnus? What do you think is really going on?”

Magnus paused, meeting Nic’s suddenly uncertain gaze. “The taste of romantic disappointment is rather bitter, isn’t it?”

“I suppose you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?” Nic snarled. “Never forget that she hates you. You killed everyone she loves. You stole her entire world. That’s a truth that will never change.”

With a last glare, Nic left the room, leaving Magnus glowering and heaving with a great desire to punch something. Or someone.

He’s wrong, he assured himself. The past is no measure of the present.

And it was the present he needed to focus on. They needed to find Lucia, now, without further delay.

Why should we wait another day for Grandmother to find this elusive magic stone? he thought. Here they were, cowering like victims, when they should be doing anything they could to cast that Kraeshian from their shores forever.