With a roar, he fell backward into the abyss.

Just as Cleo’s hand slipped, Magnus grabbed her wrist and hauled her up and over the side, crushing her against his chest as he pushed them backward and away from the damage.

“Are you hurt?” he demanded.

All she could do was shake her head.

The guards drew closer, but Magnus was on his feet, tugging Cleo up with him. He’d grabbed his father’s fallen sword and now brandished it at them. “Stay back. I swear, I will kill each of you if you come any closer.”

Enzo’s brow was deeply furrowed, his expression confused and grim.

“We need to go after the king,” Enzo said. “It’s possible he survived the fall.”

“I agree.” Magnus nodded. “Just keep your distance from us.”

“As you wish, your highness.”

It took some time and care, but Cleo and Magnus made it down to the bottom of the cliff and the surface of the frozen lake where the king lay, his head resting in a shallow pool of blood that had already started to freeze.

Cleo picked up the black orb, which was clearly visible as it nestled within its stark white surroundings. Even though it had come to rest on a bed of ice and snow, it was hot to the touch, and the wisp of shadowy magic inside spun around and around furiously.

She slipped it into her pocket and looked down at the face of the King of Blood.

Magnus just stood there over his father, his arms crossed tightly over his chest.

“He damn well better be dead,” he said. Despite the fierceness of his words, Cleo could hear a catch, a hoarseness to them.

“I’ll check,” she said, and sank down to her knees next to the king. She pressed her fingers to the side of his throat.

His hand shot up and grabbed her wrist, his eyes flying open.

She shrieked and tried to pull away, but his hold was too strong. Magnus had his sword to the king’s throat in an instant.

“Release her,” he snarled.

But the king paid him no attention. He only looked at Cleo, his brow drawn, pain in his dark brown eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry, Elena. I never wanted to hurt you. Forgive me, please forgive me for all of this.”

His eyes rolled back into his head and his hand dropped away.

Cleo was trembling now and she scooted back, away from the king’s body.

Magnus now checked the king’s pulse, and then swore under his breath. “He’s still alive. I swear, he must have made a pact with a demon from the darklands to survive a fall like that.” When Cleo didn’t reply, he looked up at her. “What was that he said to you? Did he call you Elena? Who’s Elena?”

She was certain she must have heard him wrong, but when Magnus repeated the name now, she knew she hadn’t.

“Elena,” she said, her throat raw. “Elena was my mother’s name.”

Magnus frowned. “Your mother?”

Enzo drew closer, but his weapon was not drawn. “Your highness, what do you want us to do?”

Magnus hesitated, uncertain. “You don’t mean to arrest us?”

“You’re the crown prince. Your father is badly injured, possibly near death. It’s your command we must obey now.”

“What about Amara’s command?”

“We don’t follow Kraeshian orders, even with an armada at the empress’s command. We are Limerian. Mytican. And we will follow only you—all Limerian guards will follow only you.”

Magnus nodded and rose to his feet. He met Cleo’s gaze.

“Then it seems we have a war to plan,” he said.

CHAPTER 34

JONAS

KRAESHIA

Jonas hadn’t had his chance to assassinate the king, but saving his friend from certain death had made his trip to Kraeshia worthwhile.

His extremely short trip.

While part of him wanted to stay and help Mikah and his rebels with their revolution, he knew he had to get back to Mytica. The moment Olivia returned from delivering his message to the prince, they were ready to board the Limerian ship and set sail.

He clasped Mikah’s hand. “Good luck to you.”

“Thank you. I’m going to need it. You too.”

Jonas turned to Nic and Olivia. “Is he here yet?”

“Not yet,” Nic replied.

“We’re not leaving without him.”

“Agreed.” Nic blinked and crossed his arms over his chest. “Exactly how long do you think we should wait?”

Jonas scanned the docks, looking for a sign of Felix, but he hadn’t seen him since last night. Since right after he’d finally told him the truth about Lysandra. He’d wanted to wait until after they’d made safe passage back to Mytica, but Felix was relentless in his inquiries after her. So Jonas gave in, and relayed the tragic story of Lysandra’s murder. Felix had disappeared shortly afterward, mumbling something about needing a drink, something to help him process this news until he passed out.

Jonas would have joined him, but he could tell Felix needed to be alone. Not only to find solace in his grief for Lysandra, but to recover from all the torture and trauma inflicted upon him in the Jewel.

The moment he’d opened the door to Felix’s cell and saw him there, on the floor . . . broken, beaten, covered in blood, smelling like death itself. . . . It was all he could do to stay upright and standing, and help get his friend out of that dungeon.

Finally, Felix appeared on the docks, approaching with a slow, steady gait, and Jonas let out a deep sigh of relief.

“Ready?” Jonas asked him as he drew near.

There were dark circles under Felix’s eyes, and his skin looked drawn and pale. “I’m so ready I’d be happy to swim all the way back just to get away from this rock.” His brow drew together as Jonas clasped his shoulder. “I’m fine, don’t bother worrying about me.”

“I think I’ll worry anyway, just to be safe.”

“Promise me, Agallon, that when we get back, we’re going to find this fire god, and we’re going to tear him into small, smoldering pieces. Got me? He will pay for what he did to her.”

Jonas nodded firmly. “Agreed. Now, let’s get on our way.”

“Wait!” Mikah called out to them just before they stepped aboard the ship. “Jonas, I told Taran to come here this morning to see you off—thought you’d want to meet my second in command before you leave.”

“Ah, yes. Taran. The Auranian who broke my nose,” Felix said, pointing at his face. “Luckily, Olivia took care of that too.”

“I suppose we can wait a few more minutes,” Jonas said. “I’d be honored to meet him.”

A tall young man with bronze-colored hair walked down the dock and came to stand next to Mikah. “Jonas Agallon, this is Taran Ranus.”

Jonas reached out to shake his hand. “Kick some Kraeshian arse for me, would you?”

“Gladly.” Taran raised a brow as Nic tentatively approached them.

“Nicolo Cassian,” Jonas said, now frowning at the way Nic seemed to be gawking at the rebel. “This is Taran—”

“Ranus,” Nic finished. “Your family name is Ranus, isn’t it?”

“How did you know that?”

“You have a brother named Theon.”