Immortal Reign (Falling Kingdoms #6)(34)

“I didn’t think Limerians drank inebriants,” Ashur said.

“They don’t,” Magnus replied. “Except for the ones that do.”

He scanned the tavern with impatience and suspicion, waiting for one of its patrons to approach them, ready to fight or kill. But every one of them minded their own business, filing out after their meals, drunk and full.

“Amusing,” Magnus said drily.

“What is?” Ashur asked.

“Auranians have survived very nicely, given all that has transpired in Mytica this last year. They’re still hedonists to their very core.”

“People have different ways of dealing with adversities. It doesn’t mean they’re happy.”

“Ignorance is happiness.”

“Then let’s toast to ignorance.” Ashur raised his goblet. After a moment, Magnus raised his bottle. “And to my sister Amara,” he continued, “who can rot in what Myticans call the darklands—if such a place exists—where she has surely earned her spot for leaving us with such a mess to clean up.”

Magnus nodded. “I’ll drink to that.”

A man approached their table from across the busy tavern. He had white hair, a lined face, and an impossibly wide smile.

“You asked to speak with me,” the man said.

“You’re Bruno?” Ashur asked.

Bruno nodded, his smile growing even wider. “Not just one but two princes in my tavern this evening! How utterly marvelous. I wish my son were here to see this!”

“Quiet, you fool,” Magnus snarled, scanning the area to see if anyone overheard.

“Why should I be quiet about such an honor?”

“Kindly lower your voice,” Ashur said.

“Oh, your accent is just as delightful as they say it is, your grace. My goodness, yes. Lovely, just lovely!”

Magnus placed the edge of his blade against the man’s wrist. “I said be quiet.”

Bruno looked down, his white eyebrows high. “Of course, your highness.”

“I was told that you might have information,” Ashur said, “about how to contact a woman named Valia.”

“Valia,” Bruno said, nodding. “Yes, I know her.”

“I need to speak with her.”

“Valia doesn’t speak with just anyone. She values her privacy.”

“She’s an exiled Watcher? One who’s retained her magic?” Magnus asked in a hushed tone, still resistant to this possibility.

Bruno’s pleasant expression grew warier. “What interest do you have in contacting Valia?”

“I need to know if her magic might help to save a friend of mine,” Ashur said.

“Save them from what?”

“From the fire Kindred.”

Bruno twisted his hands, his face paling. “One shouldn’t speak aloud of such legends. The hawks may hear us.” He peered out the window next to them, into the midday sunshine. “Valia hates the hawks, you know. They’re her favorite meal—roasted with sour panberries. I think it’s because of what happened to her hand, you see, although she would never admit such a thing.”

Ashur let out a small grunt of frustration. “How do I contact her? Through you?”

“If you seek Valia, she will know.” He shrugged. “But she’ll also respond to a blood sacrifice along with a recited summoning.”

Magnus pushed his empty bottle of wine away from him. “I think we’re done here.”

“What kind of summoning?” Ashur persisted. “Does she live in this village? Will you let her know I’m seeking her help?”

“I haven’t seen Valia in years. Frankly, I have no idea where she is now. But if you do the blood ritual and the summoning properly, and she is curious, she will come forth.” Bruno turned to Magnus, his smile returning, especially now that Magnus had sheathed his blade. “I saw you on your wedding tour. You and the princess made quite the pair—a portrait of light and dark, night and day. The Prince of Blood and the beautiful Golden Princess. A stunning couple, truly.” He shook his head. “It’s a memory I treasure to this day, despite how much I despise your evil father.”

“Ashur,” Magnus said with an impatient sigh, “I’m going to the palace now. Are you going to join me, or do you wish to call out names while sacrificing random forest creatures?”

“You don’t believe,” Ashur said.

“What I believe is irrelevant. What I need is to get to Cleo.”

“I’ve heard a recent rumor about you, Prince Magnus,” Bruno said. “I’m so pleased to see it’s not true.”

“Oh? And what is it?”

“That you’re dead.” Bruno cocked his head. “You look very well for a dead man.”

Magnus brushed his fingers over the ring on his left hand. “Ashur?”

Ashur stood up, his face etched in doubt. “Yes, I’m coming with you. I can’t waste time chasing after useless stories, and that’s what this sounds like to me.”

Magnus heard the pained disappointment in the prince’s voice.

He couldn’t help but feel it himself.

There would be no simple solution to this puzzle. It had become a giant, complicated ice maze in which one might freeze to death before they ever found their way out.