“So this is Kraeshia,” Nic said, staring out at the glimmering city before him.

“I hope so,” Jonas replied. “If not, we took a wrong turn somewhere.”

“See? There’s that cheeky rebel I like.”

“You like me? That’s news to me, Cassian.”

“You’re growing on me. Slowly. Like a fungus.”

Jonas managed a grin. “The feeling’s mutual.”

Magnus had returned a message to the Kraeshian rebels with their original raven, ordering them to meet Jonas and Nic upon their arrival.

“I don’t see Felix,” Jonas said under his breath as he surveyed their surroundings. “I thought he might be here.”

There was one person waiting at the end of the docks, standing still next to a sparkling white beach. They walked toward the tall young man with dark skin and pale brown eyes, who nodded at their approach.

“Jonas Agallon?” he asked.

“That’s right.”

“My name is Mikah Kasro. Welcome to Kraeshia.”

Jonas introduced Nic, then asked, “Where’s Felix?”

“Come with me and I’ll explain everything,” Mikah said, scanning the docks. “Too many curious eyes out here.”

“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me where Felix is. And then I want to know where King Gaius is.”

“What’s your business with the king?”

“That’s none of your concern.”

“Everything that happens in Kraeshia is my concern. But I suppose the king’s whereabouts don’t matter much to you now. King Gaius and his new bride left for Mytica several days ago.”

Jonas stared at him. “What did you just say?”

“His new bride?” Nic asked, frowning. “He got married?”

Mikah nodded, his expression grim. “To Princess Amara.”

Nic’s jaw dropped.

This was impossible. Jonas had just arrived, ready to put a dagger in the king’s heart, to die doing it, if necessary.

But the king was gone.

He swore under his breath. “Unbelievable. So Felix went with them, then. Is that why he isn’t here?”

“Not exactly.”

“Then what, exactly?”

“Felix is very likely dead by now.”

Jonas’s chest clenched into a painful fist, and he stared questioningly at Mikah.

“He was charged with a very serious crime and was taken to the underground dungeons. Once a prisoner is put down there, the only way they come out is in pieces.”

“What was his crime?”

Again, Mikah glanced back at the happy crowd on the beach. Jonas followed his line of sight. The Kraeshians basked under the sunshine, all of them seemingly clueless as to the darkness of the Jewel that lay so very close by.

Mikah turned back to Jonas and Nic and, in hushed tones, told them the story of the poisoned wedding celebration—the story that was not yet public knowledge.

When he was finished, Mikah seemed even more certain that Felix was already dead.

But Mikah didn’t know Felix nearly as well as Jonas did.

• • •

After their talk at the docks, Jonas and Nic were brought back to the rebel base, a collection of rooms on the top floor of a purple building painted on the side with a floral mural. Such a happy-looking place for such a serious and deadly discussion.

“She’s back,” Nic said as he exited the building to have a private chat with Jonas.

Jonas looked up at the hawk circling above them. “Yes, I noticed her earlier.”

“She’s not going to give up.”

“She should.”

“You should talk to her.”

“I don’t want to talk to her.”

“She could help,” Nic persisted.

“How? By getting someone else I care about killed?” He hissed out a breath. “Fine. Go back inside. I’ll handle this.”

“Don’t be too hard on her, all right?”

“Can’t promise anything.”

Nic nodded grimly, then disappeared back into the building.

It was far too hot for cloaks in Kraeshia, so instead he pulled his cotton shirt off over his head and threw it on the grass in front of him for Olivia to put on. Then he turned his back.

And he waited.

Just as he’d suspected, it didn’t take long for him to hear the sound of flapping wings. He felt a charge in the air that raised the hair on his arms, making him swallow a quick intake of breath. He waited several more moments before he turned around.

Olivia stood, barefoot, six paces away from him, wearing his shirt. He’d always known she was gorgeous, but her beauty seemed much more obvious now that he knew she was an immortal. Her hair wasn’t ordinary black; it was obsidian, and her brown skin shimmered as if lightly coated in gold dust. And while before her eyes had been just green, now Jonas saw they held the shade and depth of dark, otherworldly emeralds.

“Figured you’d need some clothes,” he said. “I don’t know much about Watchers, but I do know that most girls are modest about that sort of thing.”

Her expression was tense, her gaze fixed on him. “I’m sorry, Jonas.”

“Yeah, that’s what you said the last time I saw you.”

“I couldn’t tell you what I was before.”

“Why not?”

“Would you have asked me to join you if you knew?” She exhaled shakily, then straightened her shoulders. “I know I made mistakes, but please remember that I did save your life by healing your wound.”

“And then you let Lysandra die.”

“I wasn’t ready. I had no idea our paths would cross with his so soon. My magic is substantial, but it’s no match for the fire Kindred. Timotheus warned me to avoid him at all costs, that it wasn’t my job to fight him, only to protect you.”

Jonas blinked. “What the hell are you talking about? The fire Kindred?”

Olivia nodded solemnly. “Kyan . . . he is the fire Kindred. An elemental god previously imprisoned in an amber orb.”

Jonas now stared at her with undiluted shock. “And you chose to wait until now to tell me that?”

“I told you, it wasn’t my job to explain. Only to—”

“Yeah, only to protect me. Got it. You’ve done a stellar job, by the way.” He rubbed his eyes. “Tell me, Olivia, why would you need to protect me?”

“Because Timotheus told me to.”

“I’ve no idea who Timotheus is. And yet, Kyan mentioned him too.”

“He is my elder. My leader.”

“Another Watcher.”

“Yes. He has visions of the future. One of those visions included you. Somehow, in some way, you’re important, Jonas. Phaedra knew it too. That’s why she watched over you. That’s why she sacrificed her life to save yours.”

“What role could I have possibly played in this Timotheus’s vision? I’m a poor vineyard worker from Paelsia, a failed rebel leader. I’m nobody.”

“That’s exactly what I told him,” she said, nodding. “That you’re a complete nobody. But still he insisted.”

He gaped at her. She presented her insulting words as simple facts, without a sliver of belligerence.