“I don’t think so. I’m going to tell you a little secret, rebel, about a special skill I’ve recently discovered. I can make you tell me the truth . . . and the more you resist, the more it will hurt.”

Jonas turned to face her again, more exasperated than intimidated. “Were you always this much of a bitch, or was it only after you discovered you were a sorceress?”

“Honestly?” She gave him a cold smile. “It was after.”

“I find that hard to believe. You and your whole family . . . evil to the core, every one of you.”

“And yet you still seem to be helping us.” Lucia frowned slightly. “At least tell me that they’re all right, that they’re unharmed after everything that’s happened.”

“Unharmed?” He smirked at her. “I don’t know about that. I did finally get the chance to put a dagger through the king’s heart. Unfortunately, it only slowed him down for a moment or two.”

Her eyes flashed with fury. “You lie.”

“Right here.” He patted his chest. “Nice and deep. I even twisted it. Felt so good, I can’t even tell you.”

A moment later, he found himself airborne, flying backward until he hit the trunk of a tree hard enough to knock his breath from his lungs.

Lucia knelt next to him, her hand clutching his throat. “Look at me.”

Disoriented, he looked into her sky-blue eyes.

“Tell me the truth,” she snarled. “Is my father dead?”

“No.” The single word was pulled painfully from his throat.

“You stabbed him in his heart, but he’s not dead?”

“Exactly.”

“How is this possible? Answer me!”

Jonas couldn’t look away from her beautiful, fearsome eyes. Whatever magic she’d lost during the riot—if she’d truly lost any at all—had returned. And she was far stronger than he expected her to be.

“Some sort of magic . . . I don’t know. It prolonged his life.”

“Magic from whom?”

“His . . . mother.” Jonas was certain he now tasted blood, thick and metallic. He choked against it as he attempted to resist her magic.

She frowned deeper. “My grandmother is dead.”

“She’s alive. I don’t know much more about her.” He grimaced against the pain of speaking all of these truths to her. “Now do me a favor, princess?”

She cocked her head but didn’t budge an inch otherwise. “Doubtful.”

Jonas narrowed his eyes and tried with all his might to channel his own thread of magic as he’d unconsciously done on the ship with Felix. “Let go of me.”

She lost her grip on his throat and fell backward as if he’d physically shoved her.

Coughing and holding his throat, he got to his feet and looked down at her.

He felt a small smile form on his lips. Olivia must have been wrong about the extent of his magic. Jonas allowed himself the briefest moment of victory over this.

Lucia looked up at him, her eyes wide. “You can channel air magic? A witch boy? I’ve never heard of such a thing. Or . . . are you an exiled Watcher?”

“I prefer to avoid labels, princess,” he said. “And frankly, I don’t know what the hell I am, only that I have to deal with this now.” He pulled his shirt down far enough that she could see the spiral mark on his chest. It had only grown brighter since the last time he looked at it, and it was now glimmering with a gold that reminded him more of a Watcher’s mark.

“What?” Lucia shook her head, her eyes wide. “I don’t understand.”

“Neither do I. And I swear, if this is my prophecy, to make sure someone like you returns to your hateful family all safe and sound, I’m going to be furious.” He looked up at the trees. “You hear me, Olivia, wherever you are? Worst prophecy ever!”

“Who’s Olivia?”

“Never mind that.” He looked down at Lucia, still sprawled on the ground. “Get up.”

She tried to push herself up. “Um . . .”

“You can’t stand up, can you?”

“Give me a minute. My belly is a bit awkward at the moment.” Lucia glared at him. “No, please, don’t even think about helping me.”

“I wasn’t.” He watched as she slowly and painstakingly rolled onto her side, then rose to her feet, brushing off her cloak to free it from the pine needles and dirt it had picked up. “Aren’t you used to your condition by now? I’ve seen pregnant Paelsian women only days from giving birth chop down a whole tree’s worth of wood and carry it back to their cottages.”

“I am not a Paelsian woman,” she said, then blinked. “Well, not exactly. And I haven’t had time to get used to my condition, as you call it.”

Such a strange girl. “How far along are you?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but . . . a month or so.”

Jonas scanned her full form with disbelief. “Is this the way it is with evil sorceresses? Their unborn spawn grow much swifter than normal babies?”

“I wouldn’t know.” Lucia crossed her arms over her belly, as if trying to shield it from him. “I understand your hatred for me. I understand everyone’s hatred for me. What I’ve done since . . . since the father of this child died is unforgiveable. I know that. But this child is innocent and deserves a chance at life. The fact that you, of all people, came to the aid back there of someone like me—someone marked like an immortal, someone who doesn’t claim to be a witch or an exile—that must mean something. You speak of prophesies. I’m well aware of being the subject of prophesies. To me, it means that this child matters to the world.”