Gathering Darkness (Falling Kingdoms 3)

“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!”

The king pressed his fingertips together as he studied Gregor. “What do you know of a young man in Paelsia who can harness the power of fire?”

Magnus’s back stiffened. Ashur had shared this rumor with him, but this was the first time he’d heard his father mention it.

“I’ve never heard of such a man,” Gregor said, shaking his head.

“No matter, I suppose.” The king leaned forward. “How do I find the Kindred, Gregor?”

Magnus felt a sudden sense of relief. For the king to dismiss such a fantastical notion so easily likely meant he’d found no truth in it.

“You’re so sure that I know, but you’re mistaken.” Gregor’s harsh tone turned wistful. “I’m certain Phaedra means to contact me again—she wouldn’t just leave me. She was good and kind and wanted the best for the world . . . but she had enemies. She feared something . . . or—or someone.”

“Perhaps she’s dead,” Magnus murmured.

“Yes,” King Gaius agreed. “Perhaps this Watcher of yours is dead, and if so, she’s no use to anyone, is she?”

“But Watchers are immortal.” Gregor’s gaze flickered uncertainly between father and son, his chest heaving with labored breath. Then he seemed to summon his courage again. “You need me. I’ve had direct contact with a Watcher who chose me above any other mortal. I am her proxy in this world. That makes me special, valuable. I promise to work for you, your majesty. I ask only that you spare my life and the life of my sister.”

“Gregor, no!” Lysandra cried out, her voice breaking up with horror and disgust.

“Shut up, Lys,” he growled. “Do you want to die?”

“I’d rather die a rebel than kneel before this royal sack of shit.”

A guard backhanded Lysandra across her face so hard that she cried out.

Gregor jumped to his feet, but Cronus pushed him back down. “Forgive my sister,” Gregor managed. “She’s always been hotheaded, but not me. I can see opportunity when it presents itself. You need me, your majesty. When Phaedra contacts me again, I will tell you everything, without hesitation. I’m not lying!”

“No, you’re not lying.” The king reclined back in his throne, his hands grasping its golden arms. “You would do this, I can see that. You love your sister. That kind of loyalty is very important to me. Family is the most precious thing in this world. Family is the only way for us mortals to guarantee our own immortality. I respect the love you have for your family.”

Gregor let out a slow, shaky sigh. “Good.”

Father might really show lenience to this boy, Magnus thought. Despite his initial resistance, Gregor was ready to turn his back on his rebel leanings and pledge his allegiance to King Gaius in order to save his sister’s life.

The king regarded Gregor in silence. “The problem is, I think your Watcher is either finished with you or she’s dead. And she told you next to nothing to begin with. She sounds worthless to me, unlike Melenia, who has made me great promises that I know she’ll keep. And to me, this makes you just as worthless.”

“No, your majesty. That’s not true!”

Lysandra struggled against the guard holding her in place, her gaze darting everywhere as if searching for a means of escape.

King Gaius didn’t so much as glance in her direction. “Much gratitude, Gregor, for teaching me a very important lesson today,” he said. “Sometimes I allow myself to be led by impatience and anger. But I’ve waited a lifetime for the Kindred, and I can continue to wait until the time is right. After all, I already possess the key to unlock this mystery. I simply need to learn the proper way to use it.”

Panic dashed through Gregor’s eyes. “I can help you. I can be invaluable to you!”

The king smiled, baring his straight white teeth. “Don’t worry. You did prove to me that you weren’t lying. That’s a good thing. It means you can keep your tongue. And your sister will escape any overt unpleasantness. I’m not a monster who’d torture a young girl solely for his own amusement.”

“So we will still be executed together?” Gregor said, his voice dull with defeat.

“Not quite.” The king glanced at Lysandra. “Clean her up and make her beautiful—or as beautiful as a Paelsian can possibly be. I haven’t yet been able to present a female rebel to the people as an example of how I don’t make exceptions when punishing those who would oppose me.”

“What about my brother?” Lysandra spat. A trickle of blood slid down from the corner of her mouth where she’d been struck.

“Don’t worry. Your brother will still be there to watch you die,” the king said. “Cronus, bring me the boy’s head. I’ll make sure it’s put on a spike with the very best view of the palace square.”