Immortal Reign(107)

“Plans? For us?”

“Yes.”

Suddenly, something nearby caught Nic’s eye. A small flash of gold.

It was the ring Magnus had worn on his hand, the hand that had clutched his throat.

Kyan had discarded it the moment he’d taken over. Now it lay ten paces away from the Kindred, who were currently and thankfully ignoring Nic and Ashur’s hushed conversation.

“What is that ring?” Nic asked. “The ring Magnus wore.”

“It’s the bloodstone ring,” Ashur whispered. “It’s magic . . . death magic. It’s what drove Kyan out of you.”

Death magic.

Nic watched Kyan move around, stretching his long, muscular limbs, running his fingers through Magnus’s thick, dark hair.

Clearly, Kyan was happy with this change. Confident. Hopeful. Ready to claim victory over this scattering of mere mortals.

“I need to know something,” Nic said, keeping his voice low.

“What?” Ashur asked.

“On the ship, when we were bound for Limeros, you told me that you had a question for me, one you’d ask when everything was over. Do you remember?”

Ashur was silent for a moment. “I remember.”

“What was the question?”

Ashur exhaled slowly. “I’m not sure if it’s appropriate anymore.”

“Ask it anyway.”

“I . . . I wanted to ask if you would allow me the chance to steal you from the shores of Mytica, to show you more of the world.”

Nic frowned. “Really?”

Ashur’s expression shadowed. “Silly, isn’t it?”

“Yes, very silly.” Nic sat up, turning so he could look directly into the prince’s eyes. “My answer would have been yes, by the way.”

Ashur’s brows drew together. “Would have been?”

Nic grabbed Ashur’s face and brushed his lips against his. “Apologies, but I have to do this.”

Then he reached forward and took hold of the ring.

Ashur’s eyes widened. “Nicolo, no . . .”

On shaky legs, Nic rose to his feet and closed the distance between him and Kyan as swiftly as he could.

Kyan turned to him with surprise.

“Well, look who’s nicely recovered,” the fire Kindred sneered. “Are you going to cause more problems for me?”

“I certainly hope so,” Nic said. Then he grabbed Kyan’s hand and thrust the ring back onto his left middle finger.

He held on tight as Kyan burst into flames.





CHAPTER 33


    MAGNUS


   AURANOS




Magnus didn’t enjoy admitting fault. Ever.

But he’d made a horrible mistake.

It was his last thought before the fire Kindred stole his body. And then there was nothing but darkness—a darkness even more intense, more empty, and more bottomless than what he’d experienced in the grave.

That Kyan had won had been the worst feeling ever. Worse than having his bones broken on Kurtis’s command. Worse than learning of his mother’s murder. Worse than watching his sister slip away from him, little by little, the tighter he tried to hold on to her. Worse than his father dying just as they’d begun to mend their broken relationship.

But then it was as if someone had reached into the darkness and grasped hold of him, pulling him back up to the surface.

The bloodstone was back on his finger.

Cold death magic mingled with fire and life, combusting, creating something new.

It hurt—it hurt like being raked over burning coals. But he could think again. And he could move. It felt like he was coming up for air.

His arms were on fire, but as soon as he realized that, the flames extinguished.

Nic stared at him. His hand was red and blistered from the fire, but Magnus’s skin was unblemished.

“Get back,” Magnus growled.

Nic did as he said, returning to Ashur’s side. Ashur bound Nic’s burned hand quickly in a torn piece of his shirt.

“Get the ring off your finger. Do it now, or I will destroy you.”

It took Magnus a moment to realize it was Kyan who snarled this. Kyan’s voice inside Magnus’s head.

Magnus grimaced as he swept his gaze through the throne room. Everyone watched him with different expressions on their faces.

Lucia, with dread. Jonas, bound by vines—who must’ve foolishly shown up just minutes ago—with disdain.

The look on Cleo’s face nearly undid him: pain mixed with fury. Her golden hair was a tangled mess, wild and free. The blue lines on her face and arms were still as disturbing as ever.

But she’d never been more beautiful to him.

“I hate you,” Cleo hissed at him as he held her gaze.

He drew closer to her. She stiffened but didn’t stagger back from him.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Cleiona,” he said softly. “Since I feel very differently toward you.”

Her blue-green eyes widened a fraction at the use of her full name, and she drew in a sharp breath.

It had become their signal—when he used her full name.

She now knew the truth that no one else did. Magnus was in control of his body. But he didn’t know how long it would last.