Immortal Reign(61)

“If she returns in time, perhaps—”

“No, not her ring. Mine.” He pulled the bloodstone off his finger, took Cleo’s right hand in his, and slid the ring onto her slender index finger. Then he looked into her eyes. “Well? Do you feel anything?”

“I . . . I’m not sure.” Cleo held her hand out in front of her, shaking her head. Then her skin went deathly pale, and she began to tremble. “No . . . it hurts. It hurts! Magnus . . .”

Death magic. Lucia had been repelled by the same magic that was now hurting Cleo.

In a flash, he wrenched the ring off Cleo’s finger and watched in horror as she had another incident, choking and gasping for breath as if she were drowning in a deep, black ocean and he couldn’t do a damn thing to save her. He gathered her in his arms, rubbing her back and praying for it to be over soon.

A moment later it passed, and she collapsed into his arms.

The magic in this ring had affected Kyan the night Magnus had crawled from his grave. And now he’d proven that it hurt Cleo.

It was the last thing he’d ever want to do.

“I hate this,” she said, her words coming out in gasps. “I wanted this magic. I wanted it so badly that I would have given anything for it. And now I have it and I hate it!”

“I hate it too.” He kissed the top of her head, so sick of feeling powerless and weak when it came to finding a solution that would save her from this fate.

He knew only one thing for absolute certain: He would not lose her.

Magnus accompanied Cleo back to their chambers, and when he was certain she’d recovered and she’d fallen peacefully asleep, he went in search of Prince Ashur.

He found the Kraeshian with Taran Ranus in the palace courtyard.

Taran had his shirt off, and Ashur inspected the white lines that covered his entire arm and half of his chest.

More lines than Cleo had.

“What are you proposing?” Magnus asked when he reached them. “That we chop off your arm in hopes of delaying the progress? Seems too late for that, but I’m willing to give it a try.”

Taran cast a dark look at Magnus, with equally dark circles beneath his eyes. “You think this is amusing?”

“Not even slightly.”

“I want this poison out of me, by any means possible.” Taran pulled his shirt on again. “Ashur knows things, knows magic. I thought he might be able to help.”

Magnus looked at Ashur. “And?”

The prince’s gray-blue eyes were stormy with uncertainty and doubt. “I’m trying to find a solution. But so far I’ve failed.”

Magnus already knew that Taran’s air magic manifested itself in frightening moments of suffocation. And after each incident, the white lines continued their progression.

It didn’t take an expert in ancient magic to tell him that this was a sign that the elemental god was trying to break free and take control of Taran’s body.

Taran snorted, a sound without any humor. “It’s amusing, really.”

Ashur looked up at him. “What?”

“My mother . . . she was an Oldling. She knew all about the Kindred, or at least the tales that had been passed down from generation to generation. She worshipped them. My mother was as powerful a witch as I’d ever known or heard of. It’s possible she could have helped me now.”

“Where is she?” Ashur asked.

Taran shared a look with Magnus before returning his gaze to Ashur. “She’s dead.”

Magnus knew this was only part of the truth. Taran had killed his own mother when she’d attempted to sacrifice him in a blood magic ritual.

Magnus also knew without a doubt that Taran’s mother would have been no use to them, only a help to the Kindred, but he chose not to say this aloud.

“If I had half the resources I used to have,” Ashur began, pacing back and forth in short, frustrated lines in the shadow of a tall oak tree, “I could find a way to help you. Help Olivia and Cleo . . . and Nicolo. But my hands are tied. If I show my face in Kraeshia again, I have no doubt that Amara will have me executed on sight.”

Magnus winced at the name.

He’d refrained from sharing his plan to assassinate Amara with Ashur. He wasn’t sure if the prince would care one way or the other, but he thought it best to say nothing for now. He would deal with the fallout if and when Felix and Nerissa were successful.

“Not willing to sacrifice everything to save your boyfriend?” Magnus asked drily. “I guess it isn’t true love after all. If it was, you probably would have known he was in the city burning up nursemaids and stealing babies.”

Magnus turned, only to be met with Ashur’s fist slamming into his face. After the blinding pain passed, he grabbed hold of the prince and shoved him against the thick trunk of the tree.

Ashur scowled at him. “You hit me before. Consider us even now.”

Taran stood by, watching the two tensely.

With a grunt, Magnus released him, wiping his hand under his now bloody nose. “Cut a little too close to the quick, did I?”

“How I feel about Nicolo is no one’s business but my own,” Ashur growled. His shoulder-length black hair had come loose from its leather tie, and it fell into his face. “And you have no idea what I would be willing to do to help him. You may think you have me figured out, Magnus. But you’re wrong. I’m not doing any of this with the thought that Nicolo would want to spend another day in my company.”