She went below deck to the room she shared with the king, and was relieved to find it vacant.
She looked out the porthole and saw nothing but sea—endless expanses of brilliant blue.
She sighed, anxious to get to Mytica. She needed to know just how dishonest the king was being when he claimed to possess all of the Kindred. At the very least she knew he was bluffing about the water orb, which was wrapped in a silk scarf and safely hidden amongst her clothing.
The only thing she knew was that, with or without Gaius’s help, she would soon possess them all.
She would learn the secret to unlocking their magic, and she would ascend from empress to goddess.
“Everything is going perfectly,” she reminded herself.
“Is that so?” A familiar voice rang out from the far corner of her quarters, drawing her gaze.
She drew in a sharp breath. “Ashur.”
Standing in the shadows, smiling at her, was the brother she’d killed only weeks ago. “Greetings, sister.”
Amara squeezed her eyes shut, certain she was imagining him.
Summoning her courage, she stood up and moved toward him. She reached out for him, and he disappeared. She flattened her hands against the wall where he’d stood, letting a cruel combination of disappointment and relief wash over her.
But when she turned around, there he was again, sitting in a chair by the bed, regarding her with amusement. “Oh Amara, don’t tell me you’ve missed me.”
“What is this? A vengeful spirit come to make pleasant conversation?”
“Is that what you think I am? And here I thought you believed in reincarnation, like all good Kraeshians.”
“If you’re not a demon, then you’re only my imagination, which means I can make you go away and leave me alone.”
“You’ve killed us all, you wicked, wicked girl,” he snarled, but still smiled that familiar, warm grin of his. “You took us all by surprise with your ruthlessness. Was it worth it? Now you have no one to share your secrets with.”
“I have Grandmother.”
“Ah, yes, a bitter old woman as ancient as the hills. She won’t be a companion to you for much longer.”
The thought of losing Neela was far too painful to contemplate, so Amara shook it out of her head and balled her hands into fists. “I didn’t want to kill you. But you shouldn’t have deceived me.”
“Is that what you think I did?”
“There was a time when you and I were inseparable,” Amara went on. “The best of friends. Then you wanted to go off and explore faraway lands, chase treasures, and you left me behind all by myself.”
His silvery-blue eyes flashed with sadness and anger. “Don’t you dare blame me for your choices.”
“You chose to stand with strangers rather than with your own sister!”
“And I suppose I learned my lesson. Anyone who stands with you, Amara, should know better than to ever turn their back. You’ve done unforgiveable things, all in the empty pursuit of power.”
She turned toward the mirror, anything to not have to face him anymore, and began to vigorously brush her hair. “When men do the same,” she huffed, “they’re held up as champions.”
“Do you fancy yourself a champion, Sister?”
This snide little ghost was not Amara’s brother, was only a manifestation of her guilt. She knew she’d done only what she had to do, nothing more. “I will bring about change in this world that will benefit millions,” she said to her own reflection.
“There are many ways to do that, Sister, But you chose murder. It seems as though you’re more like our father than you’d ever want to admit.”
When she turned to face him again, he was gone.
• • •