His frown deepened. “You would have leveled this place by now if you had access to your elementia. Right?”

All she could do was nod.

Jonas swore under his breath. “They need you. They’re depend-ing on you. And here you are, stupidly about to get yourself killed.”

If this were anywhere else, any other time, she would have resented him calling her stupid. “Then do something about it. Please.”

After another hesitation, Jonas drew his sword and pointed it at the man with the rope. “Slight change of plans. I’m taking the sorceress with me.”

“Not a chance,” the man growled.

“This isn’t up for debate. I see that none of you are armed right now.” He swept his gaze around the group. “Stupid move in a crowd like this not to carry a weapon, but it makes this somewhat easier for me. Follow us and you’re dead.” He glared at Lucia. “Let’s go, princess.”

He gripped her arm and pulled her along with him.

“Where are you taking me?” she demanded.

“To your beloved father and brother. May you all rot in the darklands together.”

CHAPTER 21

CLEO

PAELSIA

When Cleo realized that Nic, Jonas, and Olivia had left without saying a word to her about their plans, she wasn’t hurt. She was furious.

“My goodness, dear girl, you’re going to wear a groove into the floor with all of this pacing.”

Cleo turned to see that Selia Damora regarded her. The woman made her nervous, but she’d thankfully had little to do with her since they’d arrived. Hard to believe it had only been three days ago. It seemed more like three years.

“My friends left without saying farewell,” Cleo replied tightly, forcing herself to stop chewing her right thumbnail all the way to the quick. “I find that unforgivably rude and disrespectful behavior. Especially from Nic.”

“Yes, Nic. The boy with the fiery red hair.” Selia smiled. “I’m sure he meant no harm. He seemed very fond of you.”

“He’s like a brother to me.”

“Brothers are known for keeping secrets from sisters.”

“Not Nic.” Cleo twisted her hands. “We tell each other everything. Well, almost everything.”

“Come and sit with me for a moment.” Selia took a seat on a lounge chair and patted the seat next to her. “I want to get to know my grandson’s new wife better.”

It was the last thing Cleo wanted, but she had to pretend to be amiable. It would be wise to make friends with a woman who’d soon be filled with magic now that Cleo’s magic had been stolen away—even if that woman was a Damora.

Just the thought of what Ashur had done made her tremble with outrage. How had he stolen the obsidian orb without her noticing? That Kindred had represented power to her, and a future filled with choice and opportunity. Now, because she’d allowed herself to become lazy and unobservant, it had been taken right from beneath her own nose.

And there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it.

Forcing a smile to her lips, Cleo took a tentative seat next to the older woman.

Selia didn’t speak for a very long moment, but she studied Cleo’s face carefully.

“What is it?” Cleo finally asked, even more uncomfortable than she’d been to start with.

“I wasn’t sure before . . . but now I am. I see your father in you. Your eyes are the same color Corvin’s were.”

The mention of her beloved father made her tense up. “You had doubts about my parentage?”

“When it came to my son and his”—she hesitated—“difficulties with your mother, yes, of course I’ve had many doubts over the years. I thought there might be a chance that Gaius was your father.”

The horror at the very idea of such a possibility made sudden nausea swell within her.

“My . . . my father?” She covered her mouth. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

“He’s not your father. I’m certain of that now that I see you.”

Cleo tried to remain calm, but the woman’s unexpected insinuation had blindsided her. “My—my mother would never have . . . not ever . . .”

“I’m very sorry to have troubled you with this. But wouldn’t you rather be certain that you and Magnus are related only by vows and not by blood?” She frowned. “Goodness, you’ve become very pale, Cleiona.”

“I don’t even know why you’d suggest such a thing,” she managed.

“I didn’t think Gaius had been granted an audience with Elena after their falling out, which I know was well before her marriage to Corvin. But a mother isn’t always told everything when it comes to matters of the heart, even by the most attentive and loving son.”

The way the king had used what were supposed to have been his last words, his dying breath, to say her mother’s name . . . “I’m sorry, Elena.”

“I didn’t even know they knew each other until very recently,” Cleo said, her voice tight.

“They met one summer twenty-five years ago on the Isle of Lukas, when Gaius was seventeen and Elena was fifteen. By the time he returned home, Gaius had become obsessed with her, proclaiming that they would be married with or without his father’s blessing.”

Cleo struggled for breath. It hardly seemed possible, this story. It was like one from a storybook full of fantasy and imagination. “My father never mentioned anything about . . .” She frowned hard. “Did he know?”