Immortal Reign(51)

“A rebel,” Jonas said, shaking his head. “Some rebel finally took the king out.”

“Yes.” Nerissa’s expression didn’t hold any grief, but her eyes were filled with worry. “I assume the assassin will be publicly executed after he’s questioned.”

Felix crossed his thick arms over his broad chest. “Is it wrong that I’m slightly envious that I wasn’t the one to do it?”

Nerissa glared at him. “Seriously, Felix?”

“He left me behind in Kraeshia to take the blame for the emperor’s murder—not exactly something I can forgive and forget. I’m glad he’s dead!”

“I would strongly advise you to keep that opinion to yourself,” Nerissa said. “Especially around Prince Magnus and Princess Lucia.”

Jonas barely registered their conversation. He was deep in thought, remembering the time when he’d shoved a dagger into the king’s heart, certain that he’d finally done what no one else had been able to do. But it was an injury the king survived because of some spell cast upon him by his witch mother.

“I can’t believe he’s dead,” Jonas said, shaking his head. “The King of Blood is finally dead.”

Jonas had to agree with Felix. This assassination had brought with it more good than bad. Perhaps the rebel had been working with Tarus Vasco.

Perhaps it had been Tarus himself.

He was about to ask Nerissa more about the archer, but his attention moved to someone who’d appeared at the end of the hallway.

Princess Lucia swiftly moved toward them.

Despite his hatred for the king, Lucia was his daughter—and she’d witnessed his death. Certainly, she mourned him and was in pain.

Jonas swore he would not make that pain worse than it already was.

“Princess,” he said softly. “I heard what happened.”

Her sky-blue eyes met his, her brows drawing together. “I told her this was all her fault . . . and she cried so hard, harder than I’ve ever heard her cry before. It’s my fault this happened. Perhaps I should have said yes right away and he wouldn’t have done this. I’m such a fool. Such a stupid, stupid fool.”

“Lucia,” Jonas frowned. “What are you talking about?”

Then his gaze fell with horror on the dagger in her grip. Her other hand dripped blood on the marble floor.

“What did you do?” he demanded. “Did you cut yourself?”

Lucia looked down at the injury: a deep slice over the palm of her right hand. “I’d heal it, but I can’t.”

“Princess, why did you do this to yourself?” Nerissa asked as she pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and quickly wrapped it around the princess’s hand.

Lucia looked blankly down at the bandage. “That night, so long ago, I summoned him with the symbol for fire magic drawn on the snowy ground in my own blood. Alexius told me how to do it before he died. But nothing happened this time. I—I don’t know how to find him and get her back.”

“Who are you talking about?” Felix’s voice was much harsher than either Jonas’s or Nerissa’s when addressing the princess. “You’re not saying you tried to summon Kyan here, are you?”

Lucia’s gaze moved to Felix’s single eye. “He took Lyssa.”

“What?” Jonas gasped. “No, that’s impossible.”

“The nursemaid is in ashes. It happened when I was with Magnus and my father’s assassin in the dungeon. When I came back to my chambers . . . Lyssa was gone!” Her breath hitched sharply, and she let out a sob. “I need to go.”

She tried to move past them, but Jonas grabbed hold of her wrist to stop her.

“Where are you going?” he demanded.

“I need to find Timotheus. I need his answers. And I need his help.” Her expression hardened then to one of cold steel. “And if he refuses, I swear on Valoria’s heart that I will kill him. Now let go of me.”

“No,” he said. “You’re not making any damn sense. I know your father just died, and that was a true horror for you to witness. Perhaps you’re imagining things. What you need is rest.”

“What I need”—her tone turned to jagged ice—“is for you to let go of me.”

She wrenched her arm away, and Jonas was suddenly airborne, tossed halfway down the hall. When he hit the hard marble floor, it knocked the breath from his lungs.

“Lucia, stop!”

She didn’t stop. He saw only the swish of her dark gray skirt as she turned a corner up ahead and disappeared from view.

Felix’s hand appeared before his face. He took it and let his friend help him back up to his feet.

“Who in the hell is Timotheus?” Felix asked.

Only an immortal who’d seen a future that included the same golden dagger Jonas now possessed embedded in Lucia’s chest.

Before he could answer Felix’s question aloud, someone else headed down the hallway toward their trio.

“I need to speak with you, Agallon,” Magnus growled.

The Damora siblings were equally forthright and equally unbearable. “About Lucia?” he asked.

“No.”

Jonas itched to follow the princess, to try to stop her from whatever carnage she was bound to cause in her grief and confusion.