Immortal Reign (Falling Kingdoms #6)(7)

Water magic, fused with her very being.

But as untouchable as if a wall divided her from the power of a goddess.

“He’s already been questioned to no avail,” Amara said. “This may be a waste of our time.”

“You don’t have to stay,” Cleo replied.

Amara was silent for a moment. “I want to help.”

Cleo actually laughed at that, a low chuckle in her throat that held no amusement. “Oh, yes, you’ve been so helpful, Amara. Endlessly helpful.”

“Don’t forget, we’ve all suffered because of Kyan,” Amara said defiantly. “Even me.”

Cleo bit back a response—something cold and cruel and accusatory. A game of who had suffered the most between the two of them.

But there was no time for such pettiness.

Amara had offered all but her very soul to help Kyan in order to gain power. Cleo knew how persuasive he could be, since she had experienced it herself when the incorporeal fire Kindred whispered promises in her ear last night.

Kyan wanted his three siblings free from their crystal prisons and in possession of new flesh-and-blood vessels, and Amara had made sure that a selection of sacrifices were ready.

Kyan had only half succeeded.

Nic. Olivia.

Both gone.

No, she thought. I can’t think about Nic now. I need to stay in control.

Cleo forced herself to focus only on the bruises on the former guard’s face and body. Yes, he’d been questioned like Amara said. But he hadn’t been broken yet.

She didn’t spare a moment of sympathy for this prisoner and his current predicament. “Where is Kurtis Cirillo?”

She said the name like something she’d spat out and squashed into the ground with the heel of her boot.

The man didn’t blink. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t?” Cleo cocked her head. “Are you sure? He is the one you’d begun to take orders from, rather than the empress, isn’t he?”

He cast a disparaging glance toward Amara. “I don’t take orders from any woman, I don’t care who she is. Never have and never will. You have a difficult road ahead of you, princess.”

“Empress,” Amara corrected.

“Is that official?” he asked. “Even with your older brother still alive? I believe the title of emperor is rightfully his.”

“Ashur murdered my father and brothers,” she replied curtly. “He is my prisoner, not my rival.”

Amara’s ability to lie was second to none, Cleo thought.

“Answer the princess’s questions truthfully,” Amara said, “and I promise your execution will be swift. Continue to be evasive, and I promise you will suffer greatly.”

“Again”—the man had the audacity to smirk at her—“I don’t take orders from women. I have many friends here among your guards. Do you think they’ll follow your command to torture me without hesitation? Perhaps they’ll refuse such a command. A few bruises and cuts are just for show, to make you think you’re in control here. Perhaps they’d free me to torture you instead.” He snorted. “You’re just a little girl who’s deluded herself into thinking she has power.”

Amara didn’t react to his rant other than shaking her head. “Men. So full of yourselves, no matter what station you hold. So full of your own bloated self-importance. Don’t worry. I would be happy to leave you chained up in here, without food, without water. I can easily make this a forgetting room like we have back home.”

“What’s a forgetting room?” Cleo asked.

“A room in which one is left in darkness, solitude, and silence,” Amara replied, “with only enough plain, tasteless food to sustain life.”

Yes, Cleo had heard of such a punishment. Prisoners were left alone until they went mad or died.

Some of the amusement had disappeared from the prisoner’s eyes at the threat when he glanced at Cleo. Less amusement, but still no fear.

“I don’t know where Lord Kurtis is,” he said slowly. “So why don’t you be on your way now, little girl?”

“I know you were present when Prince Magnus disappeared.” Cleo had to speak slowly to keep her voice from trembling with her growing frustration. “Nerissa Florens has confirmed that you were there. That you knocked him unconscious and dragged him away. This isn’t up for debate or denial; it’s a fact. Tell me where you took him.”

Nerissa had told Cleo not to come here—to let others search for Magnus and Kurtis. She wanted Cleo to rest.

It was an impossible request.

Nerissa had wanted to stay with Cleo today, but Cleo had insisted she join the search for Magnus.

Despite the bruises and cuts on the prisoner’s face, his hateful smirk had returned. “Very well. You really want to know? Lord Kurtis had us bring the prince to this very room. Right here.” He looked up at the thick iron chains. “These exact restraints. But then Lord Kurtis dismissed me, told me to go back to work. So that’s exactly what I did. What happened after that, I don’t know. But I do know something . . .”

Cleo had started to tremble as she imagined Magnus here, chained right where this prisoner stood. His face bloody, beaten. His body broken.

“What do you know?” Cleo snarled through clenched teeth, drawing closer to the prisoner. So close that his sour stench became nearly unbearable.