Immortal Reign(79)
Kurtis grimaced. “I beg for your forgiveness for every transgression I have ever committed against you. Please have mercy on me!”
“You are a pathetic, sniveling coward,” Magnus spat.
His absolute hatred for this piece of worthless shit who had threatened Cleo and tried to murder Magnus on three separate occasions spilled over.
He had never wanted to kill anyone as much as this.
“Listen to me,” Kurtis sputtered. “I think you will find me incredibly helpful if you let me go—” Then he gasped, a dry, wrenching sound from deep in his throat. “What are you . . . doing . . . to me?”
As Magnus tightened his grip on his neck, Kurtis’s face began to turn gray and sallow in the moonlight. Thick black veins raced up his throat and covered his entire face in a gruesome web. His dark hair turned stark white from root to tip.
The life faded from his eyes.
When Magnus finally let go of him, the desiccated corpse of Kurtis Cirillo collapsed to the ground, his brittle bones snapping like dry twigs.
Magnus stared down at him, astounded by what he’d just done.
“Magnus . . .” Cleo was beside him now, her voice not more than a whisper. “How is this possible?”
“The bloodstone,” he replied softly, sliding his right hand over the ring on his left middle finger.
She looked up at him, her eyes wide. “Did you know it could do that?”
“I had no idea.” He waited to feel horror for what he’d done, but it didn’t come. “All I know is I wanted him dead. And now he’s dead. And I feel . . . relieved.”
Cleo reached out a trembling hand toward him.
“Be careful,” he managed. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
She let out a small, nervous laugh. “I assume that you don’t want me dead as you did Kurtis.”
“Of course not.”
“Good,” she managed. “Because I desperately need you to kiss me right now.”
And so he did kiss her, breathing her in and gathering her so tightly in his arms that her feet lifted off the ground.
“I love you,” he whispered against her lips. “So damn much it hurts.”
Cleo pressed her hands to either side of his face, looking into his eyes. “I love you too.”
She was his goddess. His love. His life. And he would do anything to save her.
On his finger was a piece of dark magic that had now saved his life three times. The one who created it a thousand years ago had surely been a god of death. This had been his ring then.
But now it was Magnus’s. And he would not hesitate to use its horrible, terrifying, incredible death magic on anyone who might get in his way.
CHAPTER 26
AMARA
KRAESHIA
A week had passed since she’d returned to the Jewel of the Empire, and the world had not yet ended.
Amara took that as an excellent sign to forget Mytica and enjoy every single moment of her day of Ascension. The day she would officially—and in all ways—become the absolute ruler of the Kraeshian Empire.
She hoped very much that the ceremony would help to burn away any remaining traces of pain, uncertainty, or weakness unbefitting an empress.
But even a strong, capable, and powerful ruler needed a pretty gown for a formal ceremony.
“Ouch,” she said when she felt the prick of a needle wielded by clumsy hands. “Be careful!”
“My deepest apologies,” the dressmaker said, jumping back, his gaze filled with horror.
Amara stared at him through the reflection in the tall mirror in her chambers.
What an incredible overreaction. It wasn’t as if she was going to kill him for being clumsy. She almost laughed out loud.
“It’s fine. Just be careful.”
“Yes, my empress.”
Lorenzo Tavera was from Auranos, where he ran a famous dress shop in the city of Hawk’s Brow. Amara’s grandmother had learned that he’d been a favored dressmaker of nobles and royals alike. He’d even made Princess Cleo’s wedding gown, which by all accounts had been breathtakingly beautiful before being soiled by the blood of rebels.
The golden gown Lorenzo had created for Amara fit tightly to her curves, the skirt flouncing outward from the knee in what looked like golden feathers. The bodice had intricate embroidery made of tiny crystal beads and larger emeralds and amethysts.
The color of the gown made Amara think of the golden princess herself, and she wondered how Cleo fared in her current situation. Was she suffering, or had she already been lost to the water Kindred?
My fault, she thought.
No. She couldn’t dwell on such things. She couldn’t dwell on how she’d helped a demon gain power and how she’d left everyone, including her brother, far behind her.
She couldn’t think about how Kyan was a god with an extreme distaste for the imperfect mortals that swarmed over this world, mortals he believed were led only by greed and lust and vanity, weaknesses he wanted to erase.
Everyone everywhere would perish.
“Dhosha, is everything all right?” Neela asked as she entered the room.
“Yes, of course. Everything is fine.” Amara forced the words out, feeling as very un-fine as she possibly could, despite the glory of the day and the beauty of this gown.