“Yes, I know what you are,” she said, her throat tight. “You are the god of fire.”

“Yes. But you have no concept of what that truly means. Allow me to educate you.”

With narrowed eyes locked directly on her, he began to grow in size. Twice, three times . . . four times as tall and wide as his usual stature.

He towered above her, a monster created from fire.

A monster who was fire itself.

The fire Kindred in his truest form.

As she trembled at the sight of him, Lucia fought to stand her ground, to not cower before this creature she had dared defy.

She had come so very close to helping him destroy the world. And now she needed to get as far away from him as possible so she could have the chance to save it.

He lowered his blazing face to hers, coming close enough to singe her hair. “I am eternal. I am fire. And you will do as I say, or you will burn.”

“Is this who you really are?” she asked, breathless. “Have you been lying to me all this time? Using me like all the others have? I thought we were family.”

He roared, and more flames rose up all around Lucia. Her cloak caught fire, so she shrugged it off, quickly stepping away from it.

“You won’t kill me!” she yelled at him. “If you kill me, your dream of destruction and re-creation is over.”

“I can do plenty of damage without you.”

“Not nearly as much as you need to.”

“Do you really think you’re so special? That you’re the only one blessed with these gifts? I will wait until a new sorceress is born, and she will help me. As you like to remind me, I have time to wait. You, though, are fragile—even more fragile than Eva was.”

With that, a gigantic blast of his fire hit her full on. She squeezed her eyes shut and raised her arms, as if that pathetic effort might shield her from his elemental rage. She screamed, expecting the whole of her body to be consumed by burning pain as her flesh melted from her bones.

But she felt nothing.

Tentatively, she opened her eyes.

A whirlwind of fire swirled violently around her, but didn’t touch her. It had been stopped by a barrier of violet light, surrounding her like a cool, glowing halo.

She looked down at her ring, the amethyst now blazing like a tiny violet sun on her finger, its light bright enough to blind.

She saw the fire Kindred standing just beyond the blocked wall of flames. “What have you done?” he demanded.

The ring—this had been the key all along. It held far more secrets, more power, than she’d ever imagined. This is what had allowed Eva to safely handle the Kindred in their crystal forms, while all other Watchers, like Valoria and Cleiona, were corrupted by them. For Lucia, the ring brought balance to the eternal conflict brought by being a sorceress trapped within a mortal shell.

And today this ring had protected her—and the life growing inside her—from the wrath of an immortal god.

The firestorm grew smaller as the glow around her grew brighter, expanding outward until it touched Kyan.

The ethereal halo transformed into strands of glowing purple that moved over him like chains, restraining his fire, restraining his rage. They wrapped themselves around him until Lucia couldn’t see any flames beneath them.

Kyan started to shrink, smaller and smaller, until he returned to his usual height. But then the light only grew brighter.

Brighter still, until Kyan screamed and the light exploded into a million violet shards.

And then the world around Lucia turned to cool, endless darkness.

• • •

She woke to the scent of warm, green grass and apple blossoms. Slowly, she opened her eyes to find that she lay in the middle of a meadow—the very same meadow where both Alexius and Timotheus had met her in her dreams.

“Am I dreaming?” she whispered.

No one answered her, no beautiful golden boy appeared before her. No hawk took perch in the apple tree. In her previous dreams, everything here had appeared jewel-like, the grass like strands of emeralds, the apples as red as rubies.

But now the meadow appeared to consist of only soft green grass, and though the trees were tall and beautiful, they were no different from what she might find in Auranos.

Beyond the meadow was a huge stone wheel she remembered from her dreams. And in the distance, across green hills and valleys, lay a crystal city that sparkled like diamonds under the sun.

She was in the Sanctuary. The actual Sanctuary.

How was this possible? Alexius had told her that mortals couldn’t come here. Had he lied? Or had something happened to Lucia that made her an exception to that rule?

Lucia turned in a circle, as if the answer might magically appear to her.

And then she knew.

Her unborn child. A baby who was half mortal, half Watcher. And she, a sorceress with the power to vanquish the god of fire. These two extraordinary developments combined had given her the ability to be here.

She didn’t know where Kyan had gone or if he’d return. But if he did, she knew he had to be imprisoned again. And his siblings—they could never be released from their crystal orbs. Kyan had been the most dangerous creature she’d ever seen. She could only imagine how much worse things would get once he reunited with his family.

Had Timotheus foreseen this? She would ask him as soon as she found him.

She had to make right what she’d helped go horribly wrong.

Lucia took a deep breath, summoned every last remaining scrap of her courage, and began to walk toward the crystal city.

CHAPTER 33

CLEO

LIMEROS

This time, when Cleo woke, she knew exactly where she was.

And with whom.

For her first waking moment, all she could do was stare at him as he continued to sleep beside her.

The events of the night had unfolded very unexpectedly. He’d come after her, he’d risked his life to try to find her.

And he’d told her he loved her.

Magnus Damora loved her.

She couldn’t help but smile then—a scared, nervous, but hopeful smile.

He looked so different when he slept. Younger. Peaceful. Beautiful. She tried to memorize every line and every angle of her dark prince’s face.

He slowly opened his eyes, and in an instant his gaze was locked with hers. He furrowed his brow.

“Princess . . .”

“You know,” she began, “I really think you should start calling me Cleo now, exclusively. Proper royal titles are so . . . yesterday.”

The serious look remained in his eyes, but his lips curved up to a cautious smile. “You think so, do you? Hmm. I’m not sure I like it. Cleo. So short, so . . . cheerful. And it’s what Nic calls you.”

“It is my name.”

“No, your name is Cleiona. A goddess’s name shouldn’t ever be shortened.”

“I’m not a goddess.”

His smile grew, and he stroked the hair back from her face. “It is encouraging that you haven’t run away from here yet, away from me.”

“I haven’t, have I?” She brushed her lips against his, dizzy from the knowledge—both sweet and scary—of how she felt about him. She hadn’t even realized the truth of these feelings until she’d spoken them aloud last night. But this was real—realer than any emotion she’d ever felt.

“Wait,” she gasped and sat up, pulling the blanket around her. “Magnus . . . it’s light out.”