Immortal Reign(18)

Amara’s cheeks flamed. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Let me be as blunt as I can with you so there’s no room for misunderstanding,” Ashur said. “I will never in a million years trust you again, Amara. The choices you’ve made are unforgivable. I would rather live a life as a peasant than take any power you wish to share with me, knowing that any minute you would gladly plunge a dagger into my back if it served you better.”

Amara fought against the tears that stung her eyes. “Are you so much of a fool that you’d give up the opportunity I’ve given you today?”

“I want no part of your life anymore. You’ve chosen your path, sister. And it’s one that will lead to your destruction.”

“Then you’ve made your final choice.” The words came out as a strangled cry. “Carlos! Let me out of here!”

A moment later, the door swung open.

The words like daggers in her throat, she cast one last look at Ashur. “Farewell, brother.”

Outside the prison, the sky was dark with rainclouds. Amara leaned against the stone wall, trying to collect herself.

She wondered how much Cleo’s water magic had to do with the unpredictable weather over the last two days. The princess was in mourning for her lost husband.

Magnus Damora was dead.

Someone else you betrayed for your own gain, she thought.

She squeezed her eyes shut, wishing to block out the world.

Amara knew she should celebrate Magnus’s death—should thank Lord Kurtis for removing one more enemy from her list if he ever showed his face again.

After a moment, she opened her eyes. Amara’s stomach lurched. Nerissa Florens was walking across the grounds toward her.

The former attendant to the empress and secret full-time rebel spy—secret, at least, until very recently—came to a stop before the empress.

Yet another person Amara would prefer to avoid.

“You’re back from the search?” Amara asked tightly.

Nerissa nodded. “The others will be back at dusk, but I wanted to check on Princess Cleo.”

“So kind of you.”

“You’ve been crying.”

Amara fought the urge to wipe her eyes. “The compound is dusty, that’s all.”

“You went to visit your brother, didn’t you?”

Amara gave her a cutting smile. “Yes, I did, actually. In the very prison you would be in for treason had Cleo not intervened on your behalf. Don’t give me a reason to change my mind.”

Nerissa didn’t react at all to the harshness in Amara’s tone. “I know I hurt you.”

“Hurt me?” Amara laughed lightly at this. “That’s rather unlikely.”

Nerissa absently tucked a piece of her short black hair behind her ear. “I need you to know, your grace, that I sided against you only because you gave me no other choice. My loyalty is and always has been to Princess Cleo.”

Amara gripped her cane tighter. “Yes, that’s become crystal clear, Nerissa.”

The betrayal had cut deeper than Amara would ever admit. Nerissa had swiftly become more than an attendant to her, more even than a friend.

Nerissa blinked. “I saw it, you know.”

“Saw what?”

“Your true self. A part of you that isn’t hard and cruel and hungry only for power.”

The pain in Amara’s leg shifted momentarily to her heart. But only for a moment.

She forced a pinched smile to her lips once again. “You were only seeing things. Your mistake entirely.”

“Perhaps,” Nerissa said softly.

Amara eyed the girl with disdain. “I had heard tales about you, most that I had dismissed as only rumors. It seems that your ability to seduce your way into influential beds is second to none. The perfect little rebel spy, aren’t you?”

“I seduce only those who are willing to be seduced.” Nerissa held her gaze for another small eternity before she bowed her head. “If you’ll excuse me, your grace. I must see to the princess.”

Amara watched the girl walk away toward the royal residence, her heart a tight knot in her chest.

Her mind was set. It was time to leave Mytica.

Time to plan her next move.





CHAPTER 6


    JONAS


   PAELSIA




Jonas had stayed at the royal compound far longer than he’d ever intended.

He stayed for Cleo, for Taran, for Enzo and Nerissa. And for Felix, who’d managed to get himself locked up again.

And, it would seem, he stayed to help in the search for his former enemy.

Lucia believed that Prince Magnus was dead, but the search still continued. When she’d asked Jonas to help, he found that he couldn’t say no.

After a long, exhausting, and fruitless day of searching the barren Paelsian landscape beyond the gates of Basilius’s former compound, Jonas fell into the deepest sleep he could remember. One that blissfully lacked any nightmares.

But then it happened. As if grasped from one world and yanked into another, he found himself standing in the middle of a grassy field facing a man in long shimmering white robes. A man he recognized all too well.

Timotheus wasn’t old—or, at least, he didn’t appear to be old. His face was no more lined than Jonas’s brother Tomas’s would have been at twenty-two, had he lived.