Gathering Darkness (Falling Kingdoms #3)(51)

Lysandra and Jonas locked eyes. “Then we have the same goal.”

He nodded once. “Then I guess you’re staying with us.”

“I guess so.”

Just when she’d been ready to accept her death, her fire had returned. It had been trampled, but it had never been fully extinguished.

Lysandra was alive. Her spirit was renewed.

And she was ready to fight again.





CHAPTER 15


LUCIA

AURANOS



How fascinating, to study the face of someone who knew she was moments from death.

Lucia hadn’t been present for the last set of executions, but there had been plenty of them in Limeros during King Gaius’s reign. In the past she’d always found it an unpleasant necessity, but she’d never felt sorry for the criminals. After all, those who lost their heads had chosen to commit crimes. They’d known the punishment but had acted unjustly anyway.

Her father had also put many accused witches to death over the years—all cruel women who’d used their magic to hurt others. After her elementia had awakened, he’d explained to Lucia how her magic was different from theirs.

The witches’ magic was evil, strengthened by blood sacrifice and dark deceit.

Her magic was pure, prophesized. It was good.

“Barbaric,” Cleo said under her breath as the two rebels were brought to the stage.

“Didn’t your father have executions?” Lucia asked Cleo. A boy with bright blond hair darted through the audience and caught her eye. He was one of few who didn’t stand with the crowd, transfixed by the king’s speech. In fact, he moved in the opposite direction with a lit torch in his hand, drawing annoyed looks from those he brushed past.

“Of course he did,” Cleo replied. “But they weren’t public spectacles like this.”

Was it cruel of Lucia not to care about the fate of these two rebels? She searched her heart, trying to find some sense of unease about their impending deaths, but found she had no sympathy for them at all. They’d chosen their path, and this is where it had led. They had no one to blame but themselves.

Out of nowhere, just as the girl rebel—a savage little thing with a wild mass of black curls and a demonic look on her face—was about to die beneath the ax, a thunderous boom sounded out.

“What was that?” Lucia exclaimed, but before anyone could answer, the dais was rocked by another explosion that knocked her off her feet. She lost her balance and fell off the platform, straight into the crowd. The world spun in circles as she got to her feet, disoriented.

“Father!” she called out, but she couldn’t see him, nor could she see Magnus or Cleo or any guards. Down on the ground, she was surrounded by unfamiliar faces wracked with panic and fear. No one paid her any attention as people ran for their lives, fleeing the fire.

To her left was a man ablaze, twitching on the ground . . . reaching for her, his mouth contorted as he screamed . . .

She thought back to that fateful day when the king had her break down the palace entrance with her magic. It seemed so simple a request.

But magic met with more magic, and a fiery beast had risen up and crashed down, destroying the palace entrance and killing everyone in its path.

She scrambled out the burning man’s way before he could grab her skirts and set her on fire as well.

“Magnus!” she cried. She took hold of the edge of the dais, trying to climb onto it again, but the flow of the massive crowd swept her along with it and more panic swelled within her.

She hadn’t been out among commoners like this without protection in . . . well, she had never been left unattended in her entire life. But no one looked in her direction, as they were all busy searching for safety and escape.

The crowd pushed Lucia along until she was out of the palace square. Finding herself on a city street, she craned her neck in search of a clear path back to the castle.

“Are you lost, princess?” A man’s large hand curled around her wrist. “Allow me to assist you.”

She spun to face him, fear taking hold inside of her. “Let go of me.”

He frowned. “If you’ll just—”

Any of these strangers could mean her harm, and she didn’t want to be manhandled by any of them. And this man knew who she was and could take her hostage as leverage against the king.

“I said,” she hissed, “let go of me.”

With barely a thought she summoned fire magic to heat up her skin. Instantly, the man released her with a yelp, his hand now blackened and burnt, his eyes wide with pain and confusion. She turned and ran away from him as fast as she could, her skirts swishing around her legs.

Her heartbeat thundered in her chest, but she felt a swell of pride over what she’d done. Instead of allowing fear to rule her, she’d protected herself. Anyone who wanted to hurt her would be wise to keep their distance.

She gasped as she spotted a familiar face in the crowd. It was Princess Amara, in a burgundy gown, her long ebony hair loose and flowing past her shoulders. Amara’s eyes widened as the girls locked gazes.

“Lucia!” Amara closed the distance between them and grasped hold of her hands, wincing as people ran past them without a second glance. “I’m so thankful I found you. I decided to visit the palace today, but wanted to wait until the king returned from the execution before my attendants announced me. And then . . . the explosions. I—I lost track of my guards.”