Crystal Storm (Falling Kingdoms #5)(11)
She wouldn’t receive a confirmation from him about this. Not today, perhaps not ever. She forced herself to smile sweetly and nod. “Very well. I will be patient then and focus on moving to the palace while you’re gone.”
Gaius studied her closely, looking into her eyes so intensely that Amara couldn’t be sure if he was trying to memorize her face or read her thoughts. She held her breath as she waited for him to speak.
“I’ll return as soon as I can.” He drew her closer and kissed her cheek. She forced herself not to recoil from the oddly unmistakable scent of death upon him.
He held her gaze for a moment longer, then turned and left the room without another word.
She took a seat upon her throne, waiting until Carlos returned with the medic. Amara dismissed the woman and summoned Carlos before her.
The guard kneeled at her feet, his attention on the floor. “Your grace, I see now that I should have told you what Lord Kurtis did. I assure you that all is well, and I don’t believe there is any reason for you to worry.”
“Rise.” When he did as she commanded, she didn’t bother to smile. Smiles were exhausting when not genuine. “You will tell me everything from now on, no matter how seemingly unimportant. If such a transgression happens again . . .” The words I will have you flayed were ready on her lips, but she chose not to speak them aloud. “. . . I will be very angry.”
“Yes, your grace.” He blinked. “Was that all?”
“No.” With annoyance, she rubbed the lump on the back of her head, wondering how long it would take before it healed. “The king will be leaving soon to search for his son. I want you to send two or three of our best men after him.”
“To assist?”
“No.” This earned a genuine smile. “To catch my new husband in a lie.”
CHAPTER 4
LUCIA
THE SANCTUARY
As Lucia slowly drew closer to the crystal city she’d only ever seen in her dreams, she recalled some advice her mother had given her once. It had been before a banquet. Lucia was no more than ten years old and wishing desperately that she could stay in her chambers and read instead. She always tried her best to avoid social gatherings, certain that no one liked her, that they thought the daughter of King Gaius was an awkward and uninteresting girl who wasn’t worth their important time.
“It’s when we feel the most uncertain,” her mother had told her, “that we must appear at our most confident. To show weakness is to allow others to prey upon it. Now brush your hair, lift your chin, and pretend you are the most powerful person in the room.”
Lucia now realized, with an unexpected thud of sympathy in her heart, that this was precisely what Queen Althea Damora had had to do every day of her life.
She hadn’t realized it at the time, but this was truly excellent advice.
With a lift of her chin, a straightening of her shoulders, and the thought that she was both powerful and confident beyond all imaginings, Lucia quickened her pace across the lush green landscape of the Sanctuary toward the city, where she would find Timotheus and ask for his help.
If he said no and cast her away, the mortal world would surely perish.
The city became more impressive the closer she got to it. She didn’t know what the citizens of the Sanctuary called this place or if it even had a name; she called it the crystal city because, from afar, in the meadow where she walked, the metropolis appeared to rise up from the emerald-green grass, shimmering like an unexpected treasure against a cloudless blue sky. It wasn’t a treasure in the way people said the Auranian palace, which was set with threads of real gold, was. Rather, this city was white and sparkling, ethereal from end to end, made up of spires and towers of varying heights. The image of it before her was like an intricate illustration ripped right from the binding of a confiscated storybook.
She fought to maintain her composure even though she wanted simply to stand there in awe at the sight of it.
Lucia would allow herself only one thought now: Find Timotheus.
The immortal had warned her about Kyan. It was a warning that Lucia had foolishly ignored. Kyan had so convinced her of his own struggles—struggles that, she’d thought at the time, had paralleled her own. She’d been so full of vengeance and hatred when she finally met Timotheus that not even the most glaring truths could have penetrated the steel wall she’d built around herself, let alone have made their way to her heart or mind.
No, she hadn’t been ready to hear the truth back then.
If only she could be more certain that she was ready to hear it now.
She reached the end of the meadow and stood before the threshold that led into the crystal city. For a moment, Lucia just stood there, eyes closed and breathing.
“Timotheus despises you,” she muttered. Then, after one more breath, she took a step and entered the city. “And, if necessary, you are going to fall on your knees and beg for his help.”
The thought of begging didn’t exactly sit well with her. As the daughter of King Gaius, Lucia had never needed to beg for anything, not once in any of her seventeen years alive. The very thought of doing it now put a rancid taste in her mouth.
But she would swallow what little pride she had left and do it. There was no other choice.
The shining archway that led into the city itself dwarfed her, and as she walked through it, she saw her wide-eyed gaze reflected in its surface. The arch was etched with symbols—squiggles and lines that she didn’t recognize, but she felt something from them. A cool, shivering sensation moved through her from head to foot, momentarily stopping her in her tracks. Then she moved closer to the surface of the archway, tentatively pressing her hand against one of these markings.