Crystal Storm (Falling Kingdoms #5)(84)

Timotheus’s voice lowered. “This is not a game, young man.”

“Oh, no? Then prove it. Tell me my destiny, if you think it’s something I can’t avoid.”

Timotheus studied him. “I didn’t foresee Lucia’s pregnancy,” he admitted. “That was a surprise to me, as I’m sure it was to her. It’s been shielded from all of us by the Creators, and there must be a reason for this—an important reason. My original vision of you was that you were to assist Lucia during the storm—”

“What storm are you talking about?”

Timotheus raised his hand. “Don’t interrupt me. I’m being as blunt with you as I’ve ever been with anyone, because I see now there is no time to be anything else.”

“So spit it out,” Jonas said. He felt frustrated with everything in his life, and he wanted to take it all out on this pompous immortal.

“Lucia’s son will have great importance. Many will wish to kidnap this child or to kill him. You will protect the child from harm and raise him as your own son.”

“Is that right? And Lucia and I will, what? Get married and live happily ever after? Unlikely.”

“No. Lucia is destined to die in childbirth during the coming storm.” He nodded firmly, a frown creasing his brow. “I see it now, clearly. I originally thought that her magic might transfer to you at the time of her death, making you a sorcerer, one who could walk between worlds, one whose destiny was to imprison the Kindred after they are all freed. But Lucia’s magic will live on through her son.”

Jonas gaped at him, stunned by his proclamation. “She’s going to die?”

“Yes.” Timotheus turned his back on him. “That is all I can tell you. Good luck to you, Jonas Agallon. The fate of all the worlds is in your hands now.”

“No, wait! I have questions. You need to tell me what I need to do—”

But Timotheus disappeared then, as did the meadow and the city in the distance.

Jonas woke to find his sister shaking him.

“It’s dawn,” she said. “Your girlfriend is awake. Time for both of you to get out of my home.”





CHAPTER 23


    MAGNUS


   PAELSIA



Magnus knew he’d never beg for anything in his life: not for mercy, not for forgiveness, and not for a second chance. Yet all he wanted to do was go after Cleo to try to make her understand.

Bloody Nic. If the stupid boy had managed to finally get himself killed, this recent rift with Cleo meant that Magnus couldn’t even celebrate such an occasion.

He took a step toward the stairs.

“No,” his grandmother’s voice stopped him. “Let her go. Pursuing her immediately will only make matters worse. Trust me.”

Magnus turned to see Selia standing in the doorway, regarding him curiously.

“I wasn’t aware our discussion was being overheard,” he said.

“My dear, even the deaf could have overheard that”—she cocked her head—“discussion, did you call it?”

“Apologies, Selia, but I don’t want to talk about this with you.”

“I’d much rather you call me Grandmother, like you used to when you were a little boy.”

Again, he turned toward the stairs, waiting to see if a miracle might happen and Cleo might return to him. “I’ll call you whatever I like.”

“You are surprisingly stern and serious for such a young man, even a Limerian, aren’t you? Then again, you were raised by Althea, so I’m not terribly surprised. I don’t remember ever seeing that woman smile.”

“Did my father happen to mention to you that he had her killed? And then he lied and told me that his mistress Sabina was my true mother?”

“No,” she said simply, twisting the silver snake pendant at her throat. “This is the first I’m hearing of this.”

“And you think it odd that I’m not laughing joyfully day in and day out when we’re at war with an entire empire that threatens to destroy us all?”

“Of course you’re right. Forgive me—my thoughts have been elsewhere.”

“I envy your thoughts.”

Selia pursed her lips. “You should know that your father will not survive the night. He will be claimed entirely by death by morning. Do you care?”

Magnus didn’t say anything to this. No thought came to his mind, good or bad.

He’d imagined he would celebrate this moment, the impending death of a man he’d hated for as long as he could remember.

“He loves you,” Selia said, as if reading his thoughts. “Whether you believe it or not, I know it’s true. You and Lucia are the most important parts of his life.”

He didn’t have time for such nonsense. “Really? I could have sworn it was his lust for power that was most important to him.”

“When on the very edge of death, matters such as fortune and legacy are meaningless in the face of knowing that someone who cares for you will hold your hand as you slip away.”

“I’ll have to remember that when I’m on the edge of death.” Magnus glared at her. “Apologies, but is there something you require from me? Because if you’re asking me to go upstairs and hold my father’s hand while he dies, leaving me to fix this mess he’s made, I’ll have to strongly decline.”