“Apologies,” Burrus said, “but did you say ‘the Kindred’? As in, the legendary treasure of the Watchers?”
“Guard!” Amara called out. A moment later, the guard from the entrance appeared at the archway.
“Your highness,” he said.
“We’re done with our friend Burrus here. He knows far too much; I can’t let him leave. Take him away and kill him, as quietly as possible.”
Burrus inhaled sharply. “Wh-what? Your grace, I’ve done everything you’ve asked of me.”
“And you’ve been very helpful. But now we’re done.”
Two more guards appeared to help remove Burrus from the patio as Nic looked on, stunned.
He hated Burrus to his last breath, but he never would have expected this.
Nic realized that Amara was studying him as if she were considering painting his portrait. “Tell me, brother,” she said. “Has he been of any use to you?”
“Some,” Ashur replied. “Although not nearly as much as I’d hoped.”
His tone was strangely cold, confusing Nic deeply. “What’s going on?” he asked.
Amara stood and squeezed Nic’s shoulder. “I know it must be difficult to realize that things aren’t always as you believe them to be. And I know my brother can be devastatingly charming. He could make a wild boar fall in love with him if he put his mind to it. You were hardly any challenge for him at all. Was it that first forbidden kiss that sealed your destiny? Did it make you dream of sharing more?” She cast an amused look toward Ashur as Nic just gritted his teeth in silence. “So what now? Shall we kill him, too?”
Nic was about to leap up from the table when he felt the cold pressure of sharp steel at his throat and Amara yanked him back against her.
Cleo would be so disappointed in him. He’d betrayed her in an attempt to save her by sharing information with these two. This was all his fault.
“No. He can still be of use to us.” Ashur dragged his chair closer to Nic’s. “If you’re right about Cleo and the others, we will need something on hand to convince her to help us, won’t we?”
o;That sounds like the prince,” Nic admitted.
“Tell us more, Nic. Tell us everything you know about the search for the Kindred.” Amara sat down next to him, took his hands in hers, and stared into his eyes. “The king is as much our enemy as he is yours. He fears our father. Join with us and we will offer absolute protection to both you and Cleo.”
He’d already come halfway. He may as well continue.
After another healthy sip from the goblet, he took a deep breath and quickly related everything he knew, everything Cleo had told him—about the awakened crystals, about the blood magic ritual needed to claim them. When he was done, he felt purged of darkness.
“So Cleo doesn’t have one in her possession yet,” Amara said.
“No, not yet.”
“I see.” She appeared to ponder this as a servant approached and whispered into her ear. “Yes, very good. Go ahead and send him out here.”
“Please, your grace,” Nic spoke again to Ashur. “I urge you to leave this villa immediately.”
“You worry too much,” Ashur replied with a smile.
“And it seems as if you don’t worry at all.”
“I simply choose my worries very carefully.”
A flash of red caught Nic’s eye. He turned to see who had now emerged onto the patio, and, jumping up to his feet, he knocked over his goblet and spilled the rest of his cider across the tabletop.
Burrus, his enemy, stood before him.
“What are you doing here?” Nic demanded. “You’re supposed to be in the dungeon.”
“Not anymore,” the thug replied.