Crystal Storm (Falling Kingdoms #5)(54)
“A rebellion doomed to fail before it even began,” Ashur added.
“You don’t know that.”
“I do. I don’t take pleasure in this knowledge, but I know it. Perhaps one day the empire my father built will be torn apart, but it won’t be any time soon.”
“We’ll see.”
“Yes, I suppose we will.”
Taran shifted his angry gaze to Jonas again. “You would join them freely, by your own choice?”
“I would,” Jonas confirmed. “And I urge you to consider staying as well. We could use your help.” He paused. “But don’t misunderstand me, Taran: If you attempt to end Prince Magnus’s life again, I’ll end yours.”
CHAPTER 15
AMARA
PAELSIA
The god of fire had been very specific about where he wanted Amara to go to achieve infinite power. It was a place, he said, that was touched by magic. A place that even the immortals themselves recognized as a seat of true power.
She instructed Carlos of the change of plans. She would not be moving into the Limerian palace after all. No, instead her destination would be farther south into Paelsia, to the former compound of Chief Hugo Basilius.
Carlos didn’t question these orders but instead made immediate plans. With five hundred soldiers, Amara, Nerissa, Kurtis, and Amara’s captain of the guards made their journey into the central kingdom of Mytica, which Amara hadn’t yet experienced.
From the window of her carriage, she gazed out with surprise as the ice and snow of Limeros melted and gave way to parched earth, dead forests, and very little wildlife.
“Has it always been like this here?” she asked with dismay.
“Not always, your grace,” Nerissa replied. “I’ve been told there was a time, long past, when all of Mytica from north to south was warm and temperate, always green, with only mild changes from season to season.”
“Why would anyone choose to live in a place like this?”
“Paelsians have very little choice in their fates—and they are well known for accepting this, as if this acceptance has become a religion unto itself. They are a poor people, bound by the rules their former chief and the chief before him set into place. For example, they can only sell wine legally to Auranos, and wine is their only valuable export. Much of the profit is taxed, and these taxes were claimed by the chief.”
Yes, Paelsian wine, infamous for its sweet taste and its magical ability to bring about swift and pleasurable inebriation with no ill effects afterward.
It was the wine Amara had brought back with her to Kraeshia to poison her family.
No matter what was said about the drink, she swore she would never drink Paelsian wine because of this memory.
“Why don’t they leave?” she asked.
“And go where? Very few would have enough coin to travel overseas, even less to make a home anywhere but here. And to journey into Limeros or Auranos is not allowed for Paelsians without express permission from the king.”
“I’m sure many move around as they please. It’s not as if the borders are fully monitored.”
“No. But Paelsians tend to obey the laws—most Paelsians, anyway.” Nerissa settled back into her seat, her hands folded in her lap. “They shouldn’t give you any problems, your grace.”
If nothing else, and after so many problems in the past, this was a relief to know.
Amara continued to watch the barren landscape outside the carriage window during the four days of their journey from Lord Gareth’s villa, hoping to see the dirt and death change to greenery and life, but it never did. Nerissa assured her that farther west, nearer to the coastline, it improved, and that most Paelsians made their homes in villages in that third of the land, and very few closer to the ominous-looking, black and gray spikes of the Forbidden Mountains on the eastern horizon.
This kingdom was as far from the lush richness of Kraeshia as anything Amara had ever experienced, and she hoped she wouldn’t have to stay here very long.
For the last leg of their journey, their entourage used the Imperial Road, which wound its way in a curious manner throughout Mytica, beginning at the Temple of Cleiona in Auranos and ending at the Temple of Valoria in Limeros. It passed directly by the front gates of Basilius’s compound.
The gates were open, and a short man with gray hair awaited them, flanked by a dozen large Paelsian men wearing leathers, their dark hair plaited in tiny braids.
When Carlos helped Amara down from her carriage, the man nodded curtly at her.
“Your grace, I am Mauro, Chief Basilius’s former chancellor. I welcome you to Paelsia.”
She swept her gaze over the small man, a full head shorter than herself. “So you have been in charge of this kingdom following the chief’s death.”
He nodded. “Yes, your grace. And I am therefore at your service. Please, come with me.”
Along with the empress’s main group of bodyguards, including Carlos, Amara and Nerissa followed Mauro through the brown stone gates and into the compound. A stone path wound through the walled village, leading them past small, straw-thatched cottages similar to those Amara had seen as they’d passed through several towns on their way to the compound.
“These homes are where the chief’s troops were once quartered. Alas, all but a handful were killed in the battle to take the Auranian palace.” Mauro gestured to other spots of interest as they followed him through the compound, which at one time had been the home of more than two thousand Paelsian citizens.