Gathering Darkness (Falling Kingdoms 3)

The king assessed each of them in turn, his gaze finally falling upon Alexius’s swirl of magic once again. “We will talk, you and I. I want more information about Melenia. About all of this.”

“Of course, your majesty.”

“But can he stay?” Lucia asked, her voice filled with hope.

There was a long stretch of silence in which the king scrutinized Alexius even more closely. “Yes. And I agree wholeheartedly with Melenia’s plan. Alexius will make an excellent tutor. If I’m not mistaken, I think he and I have the same goals for your magic.”

The king believed that he and the Watchers were collectively after the Kindred, and that he would be the one to possess and control their magic, making him a god.

If only he knew the truth.

“We do indeed have the same goals, your majesty,” Alexius said.

The king nodded. “Then go. You will begin your lessons first thing tomorrow once Lucia has a chance to rest. Welcome to my kingdom, Alexius.”

CHAPTER 17

MAGNUS

AURANOS

The Beast.

The name of the tavern was humorous to start with, but after Magnus had finished his second bottle of wine, he found it downright hilarious.

“Another bottle,” he barked. “Now.”

The server placed a third bottle of Paelsian wine in front of him.

“Silas Agallon Vineyards,” Magnus read aloud from the etching on the green glass bottle.

He was drinking wine made by Jonas Agallon’s family.

Even more hilarity.

Despite his distaste for the kingdom itself, Magnus had quickly come to prefer Paelsian wine. Still, the place was a dry wasteland at best. And at worst, it was the site of bad memories and poor choices, of humiliation, defeat, and regret.

He drank straight from the bottle now, ignoring his goblet. How stupid that his father had forbidden such pleasures in Limeros all those years, citing religious reasons. Valoria had taught that to keep a clear mind was to keep a pure heart, and her people had obeyed. Magnus had always subscribed to this credo, believing that he truly preferred a clear mind to this . . . this . . .

Yes. This was better.

Drunk was much better than sober.

He cast a dark glance around the shadowy tavern. What few patrons remaining at this late hour had moved to tables in the back. The only people near Magnus were a couple of his guards.

He’d told them to leave him alone, but they’d ignored him. They were there “for his protection.”

Impudent bastards.

He raised the bottle. “To my sister and her shiny new tutor,” he said, tipping the wine toward the server before taking a long drink. “And to my father. Family—so important. So valuable. May they all rot together in the darklands one day.”

His own words amused him deeply, as did the server’s horrified response to his toast.

Magnus was halfway through the third bottle when he felt a hand clamp down on his shoulder.

“Your highness,” Cronus said. “It’s time to leave.”

Magnus flicked the guard’s hand away. “But I’m not nearly finished.”