Gathering Darkness (8 page)

Melenia inspected the symbols she'd carved on his chest with a golden blade infused with her magic. As she traced the wounds with her fingertip, she infused even more of her obedience spell into his very being. The four designs—the symbols for each element—were so simple, yet so powerful, especially when etched so deeply into the flesh of an immortal.

And even when the scars finally faded from sight completely, they would still control him.

She
would control him.

“Do you think you're ready?” she asked.

The words bubbled up and escaped before he could stop them. “I exist only to serve you, my queen.”

She slid her hands up his chest and throat, then over his cheeks. She held his face between her hands, as she had with Danaus. He had no choice but to meet her gaze, unsure whether she would let him live or kill him now and be done with it.

No, she wouldn't do that. She'd spent far too long preparing him for what was to come. She needed him.

“You will carry out my orders without hesitation. I shall give you a gift in return for all you've done and will do for me, my beautiful boy. Do you understand and agree to this?”

He could feel her scrutinizing him for signs of dissent. If he flinched, she would strengthen her spell even more. More pain, more torture. He would lose that much more of himself. Already the need to obey her was a snake wrapped around his throat, squeezing until he could barely breathe.

He held on to an image of a beautiful girl with raven-colored hair and sky-blue eyes, the girl he'd once pledged to protect with his very life. He believed in her. She would give him the strength to survive this.

“Yes, my queen. I understand completely.”

NIC

AURANOS

C
leaning up after King Gaius's vicious wolfhounds was not the duty of a palace guard. But it was Nic's duty. He didn't think it was a coincidence.

A nasty pair of guards named Burrus and Milo laughed as one of the leashed dogs dragged Nic, quite literally, toward the stables in her search for the best place to relieve herself.

“Having fun?” Burrus asked.

“So much fun,” Nic replied without hesitation.

“Be thankful this is the worst the king's asked of you this week. He seems to be in a foul mood.”

Was the king ever in a
good
mood? One that wasn't just for show?

“Don't worry, though,” Milo said with a sneer. “I'm sure he's nearly done with you. Looking after his mutts will seem like a luxury compared to what your future holds.”

“Auranians,” Burrus mumbled. “Good for nothing.”

“Except wiping the arses of the king's hounds.”

They both burst into gales of laughter over their own incredible wits.

Ignoring his fellow guards had become easier in the weeks since Nic had been promoted from stable boy to palace guard (although
promoted
was arguable given his current duties). It didn't take long for Nic to decide that, though he shared living, sleeping, and eating space with the other guards, he had no desire to become their friend.

He'd only gotten into one fight this week, which had earned him a black eye from Burrus that had yet to fade completely.

Limerians.
He spat to the side.

He hated every last one of them.

He usually tried to be quick with a quip or a joke or a story, anything to distract the enemies that wore the same uniform as he.

He'd come to despise the color red.

Milo and Burrus finally wandered off. “You done?” he said to the wolfhound. She looked over her shoulder and growled at him, baring the same sharp teeth that had torn apart a fat rabbit mere minutes earlier. “No, no, that's fine. Go at your leisure, madam. I have all the time in the world.”

She squatted. He waited.

So this was it. This was how he would survive in this new age of the conquered Auranos.

Why am I still here?

“Shouldn't be,” he answered himself.

His family was dead. His sister, Mira, had been murdered by the king himself for allegedly eavesdropping on his conversation with the loathsome Prince Magnus.

He'd failed Mira. He should have been there to protect her, but he wasn't. The thought tortured him day and night. He wanted vengeance, but instead he took orders. He was a coward trying to survive, lost in a sea of his enemies.

With a heavy heart, Nic turned to guide the hounds back toward the castle and felt his left boot sink into a pile of dung.

“Fantastic.” His voice trembled as the last of his strength left him and he felt on the verge of tears.

Why did he stay here? Why didn't he slip out of the gates, get on a ship, and sail away across the sea to start a new life somewhere far away from here?

He was a palace guard, not the palace jester. Perhaps he should start acting like it.

• • •

Nic couldn't leave without saying farewell to Cleo. It would be the first time he'd spoken to her since he'd stormed off after she'd rejected both his romantic intentions and his offer to take her away from this horrible place full of ghosts. That had only been two weeks ago, but it felt as if a year had passed.

She likely hadn't realized it, but Nic had been keeping an eye on her from afar in recent days. Even though she despised him now, he'd still promised to keep her safe.

And how is leaving her behind keeping her safe?
he asked himself.

She didn't need his help anymore. Maybe the idea that she ever had needed him had only been an illusion he'd cast forth himself to make him feel worthy.

He found the princess in the courtyard, reading, on a shady bench beneath a large oak tree. The princess was
always
in the courtyard reading—a behavior so different from the Cleo he'd grown up with, the one who only touched a book when her tutors insisted. And sometimes, not even then.

Today's book featured a hawk on the cover, dark bronze against the pale tan leather, and appeared to be about the legends surrounding the immortal Watchers and their mystical Sanctuary. Piled next to her were more books, including a sketchbook he'd occasionally seen her draw in to help pass the time. Art was one class Cleo had seemed to enjoy.

“Cleo,” he said softly.

She looked up at him, shielding her eyes from the bright sun. “Nic!”

“Apologies for disturbing you, but I wanted to come here and—”

She leapt to her feet and threw herself into his arms. “Oh, Nic! I've missed you so much! Please, don't be angry with me. I'm sorry I was so cruel to you. I didn't mean it.”

A thick knot swiftly formed in his throat and his eyes began to sting. Then a smile took hold of his face and the heaviness that had been seated upon his heart shifted to the side just a little.

She took his face between her hands, staring at him with a worried expression. “You hate me,” she said.

“What? Of course I don't hate you, Cleo. I thought that you . . . well, I thought
you
hated
me
.”

She gasped. “That's ridiculous. I could never hate you, Nic. Never!”

He felt as close to joyful as he had in recent memory. The message of farewell he'd come to deliver died on his tongue. “I need to ask your forgiveness for what I said to you.”

She shook her head. “No forgiveness is necessary. Please, sit with me for a while.”

“I don't think I can.” He glanced toward the other guards standing against the far wall. Between them, in the center of the courtyard, was a beautiful garden of flowers and fruit trees, but the guard's view of the princess was clear enough.

“Forget them. They won't bother us. And they can't hear us speaking from all the way over there.”

She took his hand in hers. He sat next to her on the bench and looked down at her amethyst ring.

“Have you learned more about your ring?” he whispered.

“I have. But I confess I'm not sure what to do now.” Then she quietly and quickly launched into the most bizarre story Nic had ever heard—of magic, prophecies, and princess sorceresses.

By the time Cleo finished, Nic was dizzy.

“Unbelievable,” he managed to say.

“But it's all true,” she said, squeezing his hand. “You're the only one I trust in the world right now.” She inhaled shakily. “Lucia's magic is associated with the Watchers. This ring belonged to the original sorceress—they say it helped to control her magic and kept it from corrupting her. With this ring, with Lucia, I'll be able to find the Watchers' greatest treasure . . . the Kindred itself.”

This was dangerous information, but Cleo was not wrong to trust him. He would never say a single word to put her life at risk, not even under torture. And not even if he were promised a boatload of gold in return.

With Mira gone, Cleo was now the closest thing Nic had to a sister. She was his
family now—but then again, she always had been.

He hadn't realized until now how heavily the secrets he'd been keeping had been weighing on him. He needed to unburden himself, to trust her as she trusted him.

He should have done so days ago.

Despite Cleo's assurance that they were out of earshot, Nic scanned the area before deeming it was safe to continue to speak in complete privacy.

“Prince Ashur asked me about your ring,” he began. “He knows what it is, Cleo, and he's very keen on finding the Kindred for himself.”

Her face went pale. “When did he speak to you?”

“After our argument. He followed me to a tavern, hoping to squeeze information out of a drunk palace guard busy feeling sorry for himself. I told him nothing. Not that I knew very much then.”

Cleo looked stricken. “What else did he say?”

“He believes great magic exists in Mytica and that King Gaius is also after it. And he thinks your ring is a key factor in all of it.”

Nic hadn't had a drop to drink since that night. He'd stayed sober, vigilant, waiting for the prince to approach him again with more questions.

But he hadn't. Even at the banquet after Princess Amara had arrived, Nic had been stationed by the doors, and Ashur hadn't even glanced in his direction once.

She twisted her hands in her lap. “What do we do, Nic?”

“This might sound crazy, but I think he could be an ally,” Nic said softly. “The Kraeshains are powerful. With their father's vast army at their backs, much more powerful than King Gaius. An alliance might help you win your throne back.”

“What would make you believe they might align with us?”

“A gut feeling.”

She searched his face. “What else did he say to you to give you such an impression?”

What else did he
say
? Nothing. It was more about what else he
did.

He wanted to tell her everything, but he still hesitated. Some recent details of his life were difficult for him to put into words.

“Nic . . .” Cleo squeezed his hand. “What is it? You look so distressed.”

“Distressed? No. No, everything's fine. Well, as fine as it can be.”

“What aren't you telling me?”

He thought back to later that night, when Ashur had followed him out of the tavern and onto the streets.

“It's just . . . something else happened that night that I'm not sure how to interpret. Then again,” he chewed his bottom lip, “I was
really
drunk that night.”

“Tell me. It obviously troubles you, whatever it is.”

That was a rather grand understatement. “He did something.”

“Did what?”

The princess trusted him with her deepest and darkest truths. He knew he had to give that trust in return, even about this. “He . . . kissed me.”

Cleo blinked. “He
what
?”

The words came faster now. “At first I was certain I'd misinterpreted it, maybe imagined the whole thing. But it happened, Cleo.”

She stared at him, bewildered. “You're saying that Prince Ashur Cortas, the most infamous and sought-after bachelor in all of the Kraeshian Empire,
kissed
you.”

“I know!” He shot up from the bench and began pacing back and forth, raking his hands through his messy red hair. “I know!”

She considered this. “I suppose that explains why he hasn't taken a wife yet. He prefers—”

“What?” Nic spun around to face her and then lowered his voice so as not to draw the guards' attention. “Seventeen-year-old palace guards who shovel the shit of the king's dogs?” He grimaced. “Pardon my language. No—no, he must have been trying to mess with my head, have me tell him secrets. Maybe he thinks I like boys instead of girls. Maybe he was trying to manipulate me. Kraeshians are very sneaky, you know!”

“Calm yourself.” Cleo stood up and took Nic's hands in hers to make him stop moving. “I see that this bothers you. But it shouldn't. It's fine.”

“
Fine
? How is this fine?” He'd lost sleep over it, trying to figure out how and why it had happened and why he hadn't done a single thing to stop it.

“The prince approached
you
, Nic . . . you in particular out of everyone in the palace.”

“Because he knows I'm your friend.”

“Perhaps that wasn't the only reason.” She twirled a long lock of her pale golden hair around her fingers. “You have a connection with the prince now. You need to find out if Prince Ashur and Princess Amara could possibly be our allies, as you suspect. I can't afford to turn my back on any possibility at this point.”

His heart thudded loudly in his ears. “I don't know.”

“Nic, please. You have to be brave. For me. For Mira. For everyone we've lost. I empathize with your misgivings, but this is more important than a kiss. You need to go to Prince Ashur and find out if he can help us.”

Damn. He couldn't refuse Cleo this request, not if it might mean all the difference in the world in getting her throne back.

“I don't know when I can get away from the palace to pay a visit to the Cortas's villa,” Nic said. “My leash is nearly as tight as the king's hounds'. And, to be honest, Cleo, I'm not totally convinced we would be wise to align with them so soon.”

“You'll have to be subtle.” Cleo's expression was haunted with worry. “But Ashur approached you personally. He won't consider it strange if you speak with him in private again. Our futures are on the line, Nic. The future of Auranos and all of its citizens is at stake.”

“That's a lot of responsibility.”

“Yes, it is.” She looked up at him, her eyes filling with hope. “So will you do this for me? For
us
?”

A thousand thoughts surged through his mind, half rooting for and half ruling against this request. But in the end, only one thought remained.

“Of course I will, Cleo.”