“Welcome back.”
Two pairs of eyes stared back at him, one flashing with hatred, the other with pure emptiness. There was Nic, straining against the chains that held his arms above his head. Locked up right across from him was Jonas, who hung slack in his shackles.
“Why do you have us chained up like thieves?” snarled Nic. “Where is Cleo? I want to see Cleo!”
Magnus moved closer to him. “You’re chained up like a thief, dear Nicolo, because when I pledge a partnership with someone, I assume a certain level of trust going forward. I don’t leave in the night, without any word or hint at where I’m going. What you did is unacceptable. As far as I knew, you were off gathering an army to help overthrow me.”
“What an inspired idea. Wish I’d thought of it myself.”
“You still don’t think very much of me, do you, Cassian?” Magnus smiled and patted Nic’s cheek.
“You don’t want to know what I think of you.” Nic growled. “I need to see Cleo.”
“And I need you to tell me what you’ve been up to this last week so that we can all be friends again. Then again, it has been a while since I’ve seen an execution. That last one was quite entertaining. Remember, Agallon? It was very . . . explosive, no?”
Jonas neither responded nor moved.
Given the rebel’s usual defiance, his silence was unnerving to Magnus.
“We were acquiring a gift for the princess,” Nic said. “It takes time and effort to find something worthy.”
“I’d rather hear it from Agallon.” Magnus grasped the rebel’s chin and raised his face up, expecting Jonas to spit in his face. Instead, Jonas simply stared straight forward, his eyes glazed over and dull.
“What’s wrong with you?” Magnus frowned and flicked a glance at Nic. “Is he drunk?”
Nic’s expression had grown haunted. “No.”
Magnus let go of Jonas and walked a slow circle around the two prisoners. “Leave us,” he said to the guards.
The guards bowed and left, closing the door behind them.
“Where are the two girls you were traveling with? Lysandra and Olivia?” Magnus asked. Jonas and Nic had returned to the palace grounds alone.
“Olivia’s gone. And Lys . . .” Nic swallowed hard. “Lysandra’s dead.”
Jonas flinched, as if someone had cracked a whip against his back.
Magnus was silent for a moment, trying to process the shock and strange sensation of dread that came with this news. “How?” he asked.
Finally, Jonas rasped out: “Your sorceress sister.”
Magnus’s breath caught in his chest. “Lucia? You’ve seen Lucia?”
Jonas nodded weakly. “The man she was with, he murdered Lys. She tried to protect me, so he blasted her with fire. And then she was . . . just . . . gone.”
The pain in Jonas’s voice was a living thing. Magnus felt its sharp claws dig deeply into his chest.
Lucia and the man who’d tried to kill him with fire magic had been haunting his dreams ever since her visit.
“He must be a powerful witch,” Magnus said.
“I don’t think he’s a witch,” said Nic, his earlier bravado all but disappeared. “I’ve seen him twice now and it . . . he seems much more powerful than that. Princess Lucia must have claimed the fire Kindred. And somehow she and Kyan figured out how use its magic. He’s in control of it now.”
Magnus remembered the elemental wildfire that had broken out during the rebel attack on the road camp in eastern Paelsia. Whenever the fire touched a person, its flames burned blue, then shattered its victim like an ice sculpture.
To think that this power was out there, controlled by someone traveling with his sister . . .
“Why did you go there?” Magnus asked when he’d found his voice. “What did Princess Cleo want you to find for her there?”