Crystal Storm (Falling Kingdoms #5)(92)

Magnus’s heart began to race, and he shot an accusatory glare at his father. “What have you done now?”

The king shrugged, his expression unreadable. “I won’t mince words with you this morning, my son. Your grandmother is gone. And so is the princess. Neither will return here.”

Magnus stood up so quickly that his chair fell over backward. “I need to find her.”

“Sit down,” the king hissed.

“You threatened her, didn’t you? Both her and Selia. You chased them away.”

“Yes, I suppose I did. All while you slept away your drunken stupor until midday. You need to start thinking as clearly as I do, Magnus. Now that I’ve been restored, it’s time for us to take action.”

“Is that right?” Magnus could feel his voice getting louder and louder. “Action is what we need? Let’s see . . . there’s you, there’s me, and there’s Milo currently representing the once-great Limeros. That makes three of us against Amara’s army. And we don’t have Lucia with us, since you sent away the one person who could have found her!” He swore under his breath. “I need to find Cleo.”

“You need to do no such thing. That girl has been a plague upon us since the first moment she entered our lives.”

“Us? There is no us, Father. You think that anything is different now? A few encouraging words and pained looks do not make everything all right. You can try to stop me from leaving, but I promise you’ll fail.”

Magnus went straight for the door of the inn, his head in a daze. Cleo must have gone to Auranos, he thought. He’d start there. Someone would know where to find her.

Thank the goddess she’d been wise enough to take Enzo with her. But one single guard to protect her in the face of Amara’s massive occupation wasn’t nearly enough.

“Magnus, don’t leave,” the king said. “We need to discuss strategy.”

“Discuss strategy with Milo,” he growled. “Anything you have to say is utterly irrelevant to me.”

Magnus flung open the door, ready to storm out of the room, but three men were already standing there, blocking his way.

“Prince Magnus Damora,” one said, nodding. He looked at his companions. “See? I told you it was him. The prince of Limeros in the middle of Basilia. Who would have believed it? I remember you from your wedding tour. I brought my wife and children to see a pair of royals in their shiny, perfect clothing, to show them what we could never have as the lowly Paelsians you’ve always seen us as. And here you are, dressed like one of us.”

“So pleased to meet you, whoever you are.” Magnus’s eyes narrowed. “And now I suggest you get out of my way.”

“There’s a price on your head—yours and your father’s.”

“Is there?” Magnus gave them a thin smile. “And what price is on your heads if I detach them from your bodies?”

The stranger and his friends laughed at this as if it was the most hilarious thing they’d ever heard. “All of us? Even the Prince of Blood couldn’t take us all on.”

“Don’t be so sure.”

“Kill them,” the king suggested. “We don’t have time for nonsense today.”

“That’s the first good idea you’ve had,” Magnus replied under his breath.

But before he could make a move to grab for a weapon, or say another word, three spears sailed through the air, impaling each man from behind.

The three dropped to the ground at Magnus’s feet.

Magnus looked up. Behind the men, there was a veritable army of soldiers in green uniforms.

Amara’s army.

Magnus slammed the door shut and staggered back into the inn. “We have a problem.”

“Yes, I see that,” the king replied.

“I take it Amara doesn’t believe whatever story you told her anymore if she’s sent her army for you.”

“I assumed it would only be a matter of time.”

Magnus glared at him. “How can you sound so damn calm about this?”

There was a banging on the door. “Open up in the name of Amara Cortas, empress of Kraeshia!”

Milo was there in front of them, sword in hand, as the front door splintered inward and Amara’s guards came spilling into the inn. Magnus now had his sword at the ready, but all he could do was watch as Milo—the guard he still felt deep gratitude toward for intervening when his and Cleo’s lives had been threatened at the cliffside—fell after slaying only two guards.

With a roar of anger, Magnus moved forward, raising his weapon.

The king put his hand on Magnus’s shoulder to stop him.

“Don’t,” he said.

A tall, muscular uniformed soldier strode forward, the others making way for him. “Drop your weapon. Surrender, or die here and now.”

Magnus, his jaw clenched, looked down at Milo, blood pooling next to his body. Milo had wanted to fight, had wanted to kill as many of these Kraeshians as he could for the king and for Limeros.

But he couldn’t kill them all. And neither could Magnus.

This fight was over before it had barely begun. Amara had won.





CHAPTER 26


    LUCIA


   PAELSIA