Immortal Reign(47)
The spell that had been cast upon Gaius Damora by his mother seventeen years ago had helped him to focus on his drive for power and the ruthlessness and deception that were necessary to keep his crown and eventually deceive Chief Basilius and crush King Corvin in a single day.
That was the only father Magnus had ever known.
“Today I also ask you all to look toward the future,” the king continued. “For I believe it will be brighter than the past. I believe this because of the young people who stand with me today on this very balcony. They are the future, just as your sons and daughters are. They are our truth.”
The king glanced at Magnus.
A bright future, Magnus thought. Does he really mean this?
King Gaius turned toward the crowd again. “Perhaps you feel that you cannot trust me. Perhaps you hate me and all I have stood for in the past. I don’t blame you, not one of you, for feeling that way. I had reached an unavoidable crossroads when I chose to align with Kraeshia, leading to the occupation of Mytica these last months. Had I not made this difficult decision, there would have been war. Death. And, in the end, tremendous loss.”
Magnus agreed, to a point. Still, he believed his father had been unforgivably hasty in his decision to align with the Emperor of Kraeshia and his duplicitous daughter.
Then again, there was a time not so long ago when his father suggested that Magnus marry Amara to help forge an alliance between Mytica and the empire.
To his recollection, Magnus had laughed in the king’s face at the thought of it.
“What I would regret is if I allowed it to continue a day longer than necessary,” the king said. “Some have come to believe that Amara Cortas represents the future of Mytica. But they are wrong.
“She has chosen to leave Mytica and return to her home, where she can be safe from the fallout from her greedy choices. More than half of her army has departed with her, with no announcement, no promises for the future. Amara Cortas’s truth is that she doesn’t care at all about the future of Mytica or its people. But I do.”
There were murmurings of disbelief coming from the crowd now. Magnus glanced at Cleo, who had kept a pleasant, attentive smile on her lips since the speech began, as if she believed and endorsed every single word spoken by the king.
An enviable talent, indeed.
“Mytica is not only my kingdom,” King Gaius said. “It is my home. It is my responsibility. And I have failed to live up to my promises, to my position as your leader, from the moment I first took the throne of Limeros. My choices for more than two decades have been fueled by my own greed and desire for power. But today begins a new era in this kingdom, one of truth.”
Cleo reached for Magnus’s hand and squeezed it. He realized he’d been holding his breath. His father’s words were so unexpected and edged with an honesty he’d never witnessed before.
King Gaius continued: “My daughter Lucia stands with me today. There are rumors that she is a witch, one of the few I have allowed to live during my reign. Some say that makes me a hypocrite, since she is dangerous, far more dangerous than any common witch in recorded history.”
Magnus tried to catch Lucia’s gaze, but his sister’s expression was blank, her attention fixed on something in the distance beyond the golden walls of the city. She did not share Cleo’s talent for being present and poised in such a situation.
Lucia had never enjoyed being under close scrutiny. She and Magnus might not share blood, but they shared that much.
“My daughter possesses great magic, and yes, she is most certainly dangerous—dangerous to those who wish to do harm to us.”
So it would seem that Lucia’s secret was no longer a secret.
Magnus wondered how she felt about this revelation.
“Some won’t believe me. Some will think me a bitter man whose new wife has turned her back on him and returned to her homeland. They again are wrong.” The king produced a parchment from beneath his surcoat, holding it up so all could see it. “This is my agreement with Emperor Cortas, before his death, to make Mytica a part of the Kraeshian Empire. It is signed in blood. My blood. Signed before I married Amara as a part of this deal.”
The king tore up the contract and let the pieces of parchment fall off the balcony.
A collective gasp came from the crowd.
Magnus wasn’t sure how much weight this gesture held. It was, after all, a simple piece of paper. But the crowd seemed to gobble it up, every word, every gesture.
“Today I shall begin to make right what has gone so terribly wrong during my reign,” the king promised. “The empress is not welcome in my kingdom, nor is her army. From this day forward, we will stand together, united against—”
Then the king fell silent.
From the far corner of the balcony, Magnus waited for him to continue, certain that all of this was a dream. A speech filled with unity and hope and grit—and quite a lot of anti-Amara sentiment, of which Magnus certainly approved.
But then Cleo’s grip on Magnus’s hand suddenly became painfully tight.
A single cry sounded out from the crowd, and then another. Soon, many were screaming, wailing, shouting, and pointing up at the balcony.
“Father!” Lucia gasped.
Magnus dropped Cleo’s hand and raced to his father’s side.
An arrow protruded from the king’s chest. He looked down at it and frowned. Then, with all his strength, he gripped it and yanked it out with a loud, pained grunt.