Immortal Reign(67)

“Just what do you mean to do with that?” Magnus asked.

“I need to draw blood,” Valia said.

“You will not cut Cleo with that weapon,” he snarled.

“But I must,” Valia replied. “The princess’s blood will give me more insight into how much I can help her.”

“We need Lucia,” Cleo said to Magnus.

“I agree,” he said, his expression strained. “But Lucia is not here, and we have no way of knowing if or when she will return.”

“Lucia,” Valia repeated. “Princess Lucia Damora, the prophesied sorceress. Yes, she would be quite helpful, wouldn’t she? I would enjoy meeting her in person. The stories I’ve heard, especially of her travels the last couple of months, are very interesting.”

Cleo didn’t like this woman. Didn’t like how she looked, how she stood, how she spoke. She didn’t like that Valia had known her father and had turned her back on him when she could have helped during that fateful battle, yet she seemingly felt no sense of responsibility or remorse over his death.

Valia’s demeanor held an arrogance, a snide confidence that Cleo found repelling.

But Magnus was right. Lucia wasn’t here. So she would have to swallow her pride and hope very much that this witch could help them.

“I’ll go first,” Taran said, moving forward to stand between Cleo and the witch. He pulled the sleeve of his shirt up and offered his right arm to her. “Cut me if you need to.”

“Where is the moonstone orb?” Valia asked. “I think that would help greatly.”

Magnus and Cleo shared a concerned look. This witch knew a great deal about the Kindred, far more than many others would.

“I don’t have it,” Taran said. “I gave it to Princess Lucia when she asked for it. Only she’d know where it is right now.”

“I see.” Valia glanced at Cleo. “And the aquamarine?”

“The very same,” Cleo lied. “Lucia has all four of them.”

Her crystal orb was where it always was: in the pocket of her gown, enclosed in a velvet pouch so Cleo wouldn’t have to physically touch it.

“Very well. We will try to make do without.” Valia nodded and, with Cleo, Magnus, and Ashur looking on, traced the tip of her blade against Taran’s marked skin. It wasn’t a straight cut; she twisted and turned the blade, as if drawing specific symbols upon his flesh.

Taran didn’t flinch as his blood welled to the surface.

Valia swiped her hand against his arm and looked down at the blood on her palm.

“You have made some choices in your life, choices that have caused you great pain,” she said. “What you did to your mother haunts you to this very day.”

“What is this?” Taran growled. “I’m not looking to have my fortune told.”

“Your blood is the essence of who you are. It contains your past, present, and future. This is not a simple fortune-telling, young man.” Valia returned her gaze to Taran’s slick blood on her hand. “I can see your jealousy toward your brother: the well-behaved one, the one who followed all the rules. When you heard of his murder, your need for vengeance did not stem only from the love of a brother but from your guilt at turning your back on him to seek your destiny far away. True?”

Taran’s face had gone pale, making the circles under his eyes look even darker. “True.”

Magnus cleared his throat. “Let’s move this along, shall we? No need to dwell in the past.”

“Do you hear the voice inside you?” Valia asked Taran, ignoring the prince. “The one that tells you to let go of your control?”

A shiver went up Cleo’s spine.

“Yes,” Taran said, nodding with a jerk of his head. “I can hear it even now. It wants me to go to Kyan. It says it will lead me there if I let it. But I don’t want to. I’d rather die than let this demon inside me take over my body and my life. I want to—”

He started to tremble then, and his hands flew to his throat as he gasped for breath.

“He’s suffocating,” Ashur said. “Stop this, Valia. Whatever you’re doing to him, stop it right now!”

“I’m not doing anything to him,” Valia said, shaking her head. “I see now that I can’t do anything. It’s too late for him—too late for either of them.”

“Get out,” Magnus growled. “You’ve done enough. Just leave, and don’t come back.”

“I believe I can still help in other ways,” Valia replied calmly.

“We don’t want your help! Go now!”

Cleo grabbed hold of Taran’s face. He was starting to turn a frightening shade of blue. Glowing white lines now spread over his jaw and up his cheeks.

“Look at me,” she said frantically. “Please look at me! It’s all right. Just try to breathe.”

Taran held her gaze, his brown eyes filled with pain and fear just before they rolled back and he slipped from her grasp. Ashur was there to catch him before he hit the marble floor. He put two fingers to Taran’s pulse at his throat and then held his hand under Taran’s nose.

“He’s unconscious, but he’s still breathing,” Ashur said.

“That witch did this,” Magnus said darkly.