CHAPTER 1
MAGNUS
LIMEROS
All women are deceptive, dangerous creatures. Each a spider poisonous enough to kill with a single bite. Remember that.”
The advice Magnus’s father once gave him echoed in his memory as he stood on the Ravencrest docks and watched the Kraeshian ship disappear into the darkness. The King of Blood had never fully trusted a woman. Not his queen, not his former mistress and advisor, not even an immortal who whispered secrets to him in his dreams. Magnus usually ignored most of what his ruthless father said, but now he knew who was the most dangerous and deceptive of all.
Amara Cortas had stolen the Kindred, an aquamarine orb which contained the essence of water magic, leaving blood and destruction in her wake.
The driving snow bit into his skin, helping to numb the pain of his broken arm. Dawn was still hours off and the night was frigid enough to steal his life if he was careless.
Still, he found it impossible to do anything but stare out at the black waters and the stolen treasure that was supposed to be his.
“Now what?” Cleo’s voice finally interrupted his dark thoughts.
For a moment, he’d forgotten that he wasn’t alone.
“Now what, princess?” he hissed, frozen clouds forming before his mouth with each word he spoke. “Well, I suppose we should enjoy the short time we have left before my father’s men arrive to execute us on sight.”
The penalty for treason was death, even for the heir to the throne. And he had, most certainly, committed treason when he helped the princess currently standing behind him escape execution.
Next it was Nic’s voice that sliced through the cold night. “I have a suggestion, your highness,” he said. “If you’re finished inspecting the water for clues, why don’t you jump in and swim after that murderous bitch’s ship?”
As usual, Cleo’s favorite minion spoke to Magnus with unvarnished contempt. “If I thought I could catch her, I would,” he replied with matching venom.
“We’ll get the water Kindred back,” Cleo said. “And Amara will pay for what she’s done.”
“I’m not sure I share your confidence,” Magnus said. Finally, he glanced at her over his shoulder: Princess Cleiona Bellos, her familiar beauty lit only by the moon and a few lanterns set along the docks.
He had yet to think of her as a Damora. She had once asked to keep her family name, as she was the last in her line, and he’d agreed. The king had chastised him for allowing her, a princess forced into an arranged marriage to help make the conquering royals more palatable to the conquered kingdom and hopefully stifle an immediate rebellion amongst the Auranian people, any liberties at all.
Despite the fur-lined cloak that she’d pulled over her head to shield her long golden hair from the snow, Cleo shivered. Her face was pale and she wrapped her arms tightly around herself.
She hadn’t complained about the cold, not once on their swift journey from the Temple of Valoria to the city. They’d barely exchanged a single word until now.
Then again, far too many words had been exchanged between them the previous night, before chaos had descended.
“Give me one good reason why you wouldn’t let Cronus kill me,” she’d demanded when she’d finally cornered him, alone, at Lady Sophia’s villa.
And instead of continuing to ignore or deny what he’d done—slaying the guard who’d been given the king’s command to end the imprisoned princess’s life—he’d given her an answer, the words tearing painfully from his throat as if he had no control over them.
“You are the only light I can see anymore,” he’d whispered. “And, whatever the cost, I refuse to let that light be extinguished.”
Magnus knew he’d given Cleo far too much power over him in that moment. He felt that weakness now—compounded by everything that had happened the night before, beginning with the earth-shattering kiss that had followed his foolish confession of her growing importance to him.
Thankfully that kiss had been interrupted before he’d lost himself completely.
“Magnus? Are you all right?” Cleo touched his arm, but he stiffened and pulled away from her, as if he’d been burned. Confusion fought with concern in her blue-green eyes.
“I’m fine,” he said.
“But your arm—”
“I’m fine,” he repeated, more firmly.
She pressed her lips together, her gaze hardening. “Good.”
“We need a plan,” Nic snapped. “And we need one now before we freeze to death out here.”
His tone tore Magnus’s attention away from the princess and straight to the red-headed, freckle-faced boy who’d always seemed weak and useless . . . at least until tonight.
“You want a plan?” Magnus growled. “Here’s my plan. Take your precious princess and leave. Board a ship for Auranos. Hike down to Paelsia. I don’t care. I’ll tell my father you’re both dead. The only way you’ll remain alive and well is if you go into exile.”
Nic’s eyes flashed with surprise, as if this were the last thing he’d expected Magnus to say. “You mean it? We can go?”
“Yes, go.” It was the best decision for everyone. Cleo had become a dangerous distraction, and Nic was at best an annoyance and at worst a threat. “That is an order.”
He looked up at Cleo, expecting to see relief in the princess’s eyes.
Instead, all he saw was outrage.