Immortal Reign (Falling Kingdoms #6)(11)

There was no reason to feel regret over this.

So be it.

Lucia sensed something . . . unusual about Cleo as she passed the other princess, but she chose to ignore it as she followed Amara to the compound’s prison area. The empress leaned against her guard as well as her cane, limping as she walked. Lucia concentrated, sending out a whisper of earth magic that helped her sense Amara’s injury.

A broken leg.

Achieving ultimate power over a newly conquered land did not come without injury, it would seem.

As they moved past the dusty villas and cottages that made up the royal compound, Lucia half expected to feel some sort of familiarity with these grounds. Her birth father had ruled from here—a madman who thought himself a god. She knew nothing about her real mother, only that she’d died as well.

Her sister by blood, Laelia, worked as a dancer in a tavern in the city of Basilia on the west cost of Paelsia. Perhaps one day she might go and ask Laelia more questions about her birth family. At the moment, though, her past was insignificant to her.

Lucia focused now on only three goals.

Reuniting with Magnus and her father.

Ensuring Lyssa’s future.

And imprisoning Kyan by any means necessary in his amber orb, which she kept with her in the pocket of her cloak.

Anything beyond these goals was an unwanted distraction.

As they entered the prison, Amara led Lucia down narrow hallways that the injured empress navigated very carefully with her guard’s help. She didn’t complain once, which Lucia grudgingly respected.

They passed many locked iron doors, but Amara finally came to a stop in front of one at the end of the hallway, which she placed her hand upon.

“If you wish to speak with Gaius,” Amara said, “I have a few rules that must be obeyed.”

Lucia raised her brows. “Do you?” She flicked her finger at the door, which swung open instantly.

Amara’s hulking guard immediately reached for his sword.

“Spare me such displays.” Lucia used another blast of air magic to send the sword down the hallway, where it embedded itself into the stone wall, but not nearly as deeply as she’d intended.

Amara’s expression didn’t shift from one of royal composure; however, her lips now formed a thin line. “Your air magic is incredible.”

Not as incredible as Lucia would like it to be. After stealing Jonas’s strange but strong reserve of elementia last night to survive Lyssa’s birth, Lucia had slowly but surely begun to feel it fading from her again.

But Amara didn’t have to know that.

“I will speak to my father in private,” Lucia said. “You should hope that he is as unharmed as you claim.”

“He is.” Amara nodded at her guard, who led her away from the door without another word.

Holding her breath, unsure what she would find within, Lucia turned toward the interior of the cell, unable to see anything within but shadows and darkness.

Amara had kept her father in darkness.

Fury rose within her at the thought.

“My beautiful daughter. More powerful and magnificent than ever before.”

The sound of the king’s strong voice was such a relief that tears sprang to her eyes. She flicked her hand to light the torches on the walls with fire magic.

King Gaius blinked against the sudden blaze of light, shielding his eyes with the back of his hand.

“Father,” her voice broke on the word. She entered the cell completely, closing the door behind her to give them privacy from curious ears.

He had a short beard on his chin and dark circles beneath his eyes as if he hadn’t slept in days.

“Apologies for my appearance, daughter,” he said. “You seem to have found me in a shamefully unfortunate state.”

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d allowed herself to cry. She didn’t allow it this time, but hot tears still streaked down her cheeks. Her throat was so tight it made it difficult to speak, but she forced the words out. “I’m the one who should apologize. I left you—you and Magnus. I was wrong. And because of my selfishness, so much has happened . . . I can’t fix it all, but I’m going to try to fix as much as I can. Please forgive me.”

“Forgive you? There is nothing to forgive. I’m just thankful you’re alive and well.” His dark brows drew together, and he moved forward as if to take her into his arms, but he froze when his gaze moved toward the small bundle in her arms. “Whose child is this, Lucia?”

Again, a shameful swell of emotion made her words difficult. “My—my daughter. Her name is Lyssa.”

She expected his kind expression to turn harsh, for his lips to thin, for words of strong reprimand for being so careless.

He pushed the soft cloth away from Lyssa’s face and looked down into the face of his granddaughter. “She’s as beautiful as her mother.”

Lucia stared at him. “You’re not angry?”

“Why would I be?” Still, there was a gravity to his words. “She’s Alexius’s child?”

She nodded.

“The daughter of a sorceress and an exiled Watcher,” he mused. “You will need to protect her.”

“With your help, I will,” she replied.

“This was a swift birth. I haven’t seen you in what feels like forever, but it’s only been a matter of months.”