Gathering Darkness (Falling Kingdoms 3)

“This,” the king said, “I find hard to believe. Gregor, tell me what Phaedra told you about the Kindred. I want to know if she instructed you how to find it.”

Gregor’s cheek twitched. “I don’t know anything about the Kindred.”

The king offered him a grimace of a smile. “You see, I, too, have been contacted by a Watcher. Although not this Phaedra; I’ve never heard of her before. But perhaps lowly peasants dream of lowly Watchers. Still, that she chose you . . . it gives me pause.”

The king did enjoy the sound of his own voice. Magnus wished very much he’d get on with it. He needed answers, and long-winded speeches weren’t getting him any closer.

“What I know,” the king continued, “is that the Kindred exist. And after many years, it can finally be found. I only need to know precisely how.”

“Perhaps you should ask your own Watcher, because I can’t help you,” Gregor said, his voice shaking with naked contempt.

Magnus glanced at the king to see a cold smile twisting his lips.

“So you don’t know,” the king said.

“No. And you know what?” With the simple raising of his chin, Magnus could see Gregor had made the fateful decision to choose defiance over obedience. “Even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you in a million years.”

The king nodded, his neutral expression unchanged. “Exactly as I figured.”

Just then the throne room doors swung open.

“Ah,” the king said. “Very good. This should help.”

Magnus watched Gregor’s face go ashen as a girl, flanked by guards, her hands tied behind her back, entered. She had long, curly black hair and flashing light brown eyes. She wore a dirty canvas tunic over dark brown trousers, the clothing of a boy.

She looked ready to kill.

“I’ve come to believe this girl is your sister,” the king said. “She is, yes?”

Gregor hadn’t taken his eyes off the girl for a second. “Release her.”

“Not so fast. Here’s how this will go. You will tell me what I need to know. We will discuss the matter man-to-man without any need for violence. After that, you and your sister—Lysandra, correct?—you and Lysandra will be prepared for public execution. Apart from having to endure the presence of the crowd, your deaths will be quick and virtually painless. However, if you refuse to tell me what I need to know, I will have your sister tortured to death in front of a much smaller audience, which will include you. Should I go into detail about what will be done to her?”

The calm demeanor with which the king delivered this news sent a chill racing down Magnus’s spine.

He wasn’t bluffing.

Why did the threat of torture set Magnus’s stomach churning? He hated his father, but he was a Damora. This threat shouldn’t sicken him; it should energize him.

Lysandra had gone quiet, had stopped struggling, but the hatred in her eyes still burned bright. “Tell him nothing, Gregor. One way or the other, he’s going to kill us both.”

Gregor was visibly shaking now.

“Lysandra, forgive me,” Gregor said, causing the king to break out in the slightest of smiles. Lysandra’s face quickly became etched with worry, clearly fearful of what he’d say next. “Death is one thing. But torture. . . . no. I can’t let that happen to you.” He turned to the king, his face a mask of hatred as he began to speak. “Phaedra told me that the Kindred were ready to be awakened. That’s the word she used. Interpret it however you wish. But she warned me that they should remain unfound, even if it means the fading of both her world and ours.”

“Nonsense. How could that be?” the king prompted.

“Because mortals can’t control power like that,” Gregor snarled. “And anyone who thinks they can control it is a damn fool.”

This boy has courage, Magnus thought, mildly impressed.

“What else?” King Gaius hissed, ignoring Gregor’s insult.

“She believes that when the Kindred finally awaken, the world will burn.”

“Burn,” the king repeated. “What does she mean, burn? Surely she doesn’t mean the world will literally burn?”

“I don’t know. I was sure she’d return to tell me more, to tell me how to help her, but it’s been weeks since I last dreamt of her. I swear on my parents’ souls I’m speaking the truth. I don’t give a damn about the Kindred. For all I care you can have it!”