Crystal Storm (Falling Kingdoms #5)(80)

“Is he the father of your child?”

Lucia let out a sharp, nervous laugh. “Certainly not.”

“I don’t find anything funny about this.”

“Make no mistake, rebel, neither do I.”

“Keep walking,” he said when her pace began to slow. “By the looks of you, you’re far too heavy for me to carry.”

Lucia’s rebuttal to this insult was to stop walking completely. They’d entered a thatch of forest on their way to the nearest town, where Jonas planned to find transport west.

“Answer my question: Where are my father and brother? I know they’re still alive. They have to be.”

“If I answer your question, what certainty do I have that you won’t end my life?” he asked.

“None at all.”

“Exactly. Therefore, I will take you to them myself.”

She gasped. “So they are alive!”

“Perhaps,” he allowed.

“And how am I to believe that you want to help me?”

He spun around and jabbed his index finger at her. “Make no mistake, Princess Lucia, I’m not doing this to help you. I’m doing this to help Mytica.”

She rolled her eyes. “So noble.”

“Think what you want. I don’t care. You refuse to answer my questions; I’ll refuse to answer yours. Our destination is not horribly far away, but you’ll have to find a way to deal with my presence and my hatred during this journey together.”

“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!”