It took all the willpower Magnus had not to move from his spot. He had to wait for the right moment.

The other two guards turned to look at her, laughing.

Magnus struck. He grabbed one guard’s arms, seizing the moment of his surprise to steal his sword and stab the Kraeshian in his side.

It worked better than he’d expected. At least until another guard’s fist found his jaw, making his head spin and his teeth rattle. He dropped his stolen sword and it clattered to the floor. Magnus ducked in time to miss the swipe of a blade. With the next attempt by the guard to bring his sword down on him, Magnus caught the metal between his hands. It sliced his skin, but he managed to jam the hilt of the sword into the guard’s gut, allowing him to yank the weapon right out of his grip.

Without hesitation, Magnus spun and impaled the guard through his throat.

Then something hit the side of his head and he fell to the floor with his arm at an awkward angle. As he landed on it with his full weight, he heard a sickening crack and an excruciating pain shot through his arm.

He was about to rise up to his feet again, but the guard—the same guard who’d shoved him earlier—loomed over him, pressing the tip of his sword to Magnus’s chest.

“Stay down,” the guard snarled. “And lose the weapon.”

Magnus dropped the bloody sword. “You’ll notice I didn’t kill you first as I previously promised I would,” he said.

“No, you didn’t. And I haven’t killed you yet, either.”

“Are you waiting for a special invitation?”

This guard sneered down at him after casting a glance at his two fallen associates. “I think you might be right about Princess Amara. She won’t let me live after what I’ve seen here tonight.”

Magnus wasn’t dead yet, which meant there was still room for negotiation. “I’m thrilled to be right about something tonight. Truly.”

“Where are the other crystals?”

Magnus’s jaw tensed. “You want crystals, do you?”

“I don’t care about gold. Gold can be stolen, spent, lost. Those crystals . . . that’s power I can use.”

All Magnus knew about the crystals with absolute certainty was that they belonged in only one person’s hands: his. However, this guard didn’t have to know that. “I can certainly take you to the next location, since you asked so nicely.”

The guard jabbed him with the sword. “Where?”

“Sure, I tell you and you kill me. Doesn’t seem like a very good deal.” Not to mention Magnus had no idea where the other two crystals were.

The guard’s expression twisted into one of greed. “I could kill her, you know. Princess Amara. I could climb aboard that ship, steal the crystal, and throw her body overboard.”

“And I wholeheartedly encourage you to attempt that. Go. Leave now while you still have a chance to catch up to her entourage.”

“First, I need to take care of the three of you. You don’t know anything that could help me. You’re no good to me.”

Magnus’s sword arm was badly injured, probably broken. He had no weapon. He was flat on his back with a blade pressed against his heart.

He’d put up a reasonable fight. Sadly, he’d lost, and his life would be the price he’d have to pay.

Now, later . . . What difference did it make in the end?

Magnus had lied to Cleo. Once the king learned what he’d done—killed Cronus to save Cleo’s life—his trust in Magnus would be irreparably broken. The scar on his face was a constant reminder of what happened when he displeased his father. He had received it as punishment when he was merely an innocent, if mischievous, boy. As a man, he’d be held fully accountable for his actions, and another scar would be the very least of what he’d expect to receive. He didn’t regret what he’d done, but it hadn’t only been an act of betrayal; it had been one of treason.

And he knew very well that the penalty for treason was death.

“Go ahead, then,” he growled. “What are you waiting for?”

“Nothing at all, anymore.” The guard sneered at him. “Imagine my good fortune of being the one to kill the King of Blood’s heir. What an honor.”

But then an arm reached around the guard and an already bloody blade slashed his throat, creating a wide crimson line that spilled onto his green uniform.

The guard dropped his sword, staggered backward, and clutched at the gaping wound on his throat before falling to his side in a heavy, twitching heap.

Cleo dropped the dagger and it clattered against the smooth, cold floor.

“That,” she said, her voice brittle and shaking, “makes us even. All right?”

Magnus stared up at her, utterly stunned. “All right.”

She held his gaze for a moment longer, and then ran to Nic, who’d watched everything from across the temple in a state of shock. He grabbed hold of her and pulled her to him in a tight hug.

It seemed that Magnus had escaped death in the exact moment he’d been ready to accept it.

How unexpected.

He pushed himself up to his feet using his uninjured arm, and glared in the princess’s general direction. “We need to find Lucia. And we need to get that crystal back from Amara.”

Nic gave Ashur’s body a final, pained look before he and Cleo left the temple. Magnus watched as the princess passed him, more annoyed now than he’d been before.

“What?” she demanded.