Falling Kingdoms (Falling Kingdoms 1)

Cleo leaned back in her chair, frowning. “But you did say that you believed in magic.”

Eirene nodded. “I do, although I would never say such a thing in Limeros. While I’m no witch, I wouldn’t want such a dangerous light shone in my direction for what I believe.”

“Do you know of any witches who live around here?” While the thought that the Watcher was only a legend pained Cleo, perhaps she could find a witch instead. Any connection to magic was an important path to follow.

“For a Limerian to ask about witches with interest, you must be very determined to save your sister. This is the real reason you’ve come to Paelsia on this search, not merely for your book. Isn’t it?”

Cleo’s eyes suddenly burned with tears. “My sister’s the most important and precious person in my entire life. If she dies from this horrible disease, I don’t know what I’ll do. I need to help her.”

The door opened and a pretty dark-haired girl ran inside, soaking wet from the cold rain that fell in sheets outside. Her eyes fell instantly on Cleo and Nic.

“Who’re you?” she demanded.

Eirene grimaced. “Sera, please. Be polite. These are my guests. They’ll be staying with us for dinner and overnight.”

The girl’s expression didn’t become any friendlier with this announcement. “Why?”

“Because I say so, that’s why. This is my granddaughter, Sera. Sera, this is Cleo and Nicolo. They’re visiting from Limeros.”

“Cleo,” the girl repeated, turning the name over on her tongue.

Cleo’s heart beat harder at the fear that the girl might recognize her for who she really was. She willed herself to remain calm. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sera.”

Sera stared at her a moment longer before she flicked a glance to her grandmother. “Should I set the table?”

“Please.”

They sat down for dinner at the small, rickety wooden table. Cleo was so hungry she couldn’t help but enjoy every mouthful of the hearty barley stew served in a small wooden bowl—something she would have turned up her nose at if she was still at the palace, but tonight for which she was very grateful And, of course, there was wine. If there was one thing Paelsians didn’t scrimp on in their difficult, laborious lives, it was wine.

Cleo had been about to decline the offer of a glass from Eirene’s flacon, but she held her tongue. Wine had led to regrets and unpleasant memories in the past, but one glass wouldn’t hurt. She still nursed her first by the time Nic was on his third. It helped to loosen his already loose tongue.

“You seem like you know a lot about witches and Watchers,” he said to Eirene. “Is there anything you are willing to share that might help our research?”

She leaned back in her chair until it squeaked. “I have stories. But stories are not facts.”

“I like stories. Love them, actually. Most of the time they’re better than facts.”

“What about stories involving goddesses?”

Sera groaned. “Not this again. Grandmother loves to be controversial and tell this story. But no one believes the goddesses were Watchers.”

Cleo nearly choked on a mouthful of wine. “Do you mean Cleiona and Valoria?”

Eirene smiled wickedly. “Are you willing to hear such a scandalous possibility? Or are you too devout in your worship, as most Limerians are?”

Limerians believed that Valoria was an ethereal being who embodied earth and water magic. Cleiona embodied fire and air. They were equally strong, but their violent rivalry caused them to destroy each other, at which time nearly all elementia was shut off from the mortal world. Limerians believed Cleiona was the instigator of this final battle—that she’d attempted to steal Valoria’s power, leading to their beloved goddess’s demise. They viewed Cleiona as evil for this reason, the dark to Valoria’s light.

Auranians—when they were more religious as a whole—believed just the opposite.

“I’m open,” Cleo said, eager to learn anything about the Watchers that might help her. “Tell your tales. We’re grateful for anything you’re willing to share.”

Sera cleared the empty plates from the table. “Tell them about Eva.”

“I will. Patience, dear.”

“She was the last sorceress,” Sera said. “She could command all four elements all by herself. No one and nothing else was that powerful except the Kindred itself.”

For a girl who’d seemed reluctant to hear her grandmother’s stories again, she now seemed eager to tell them herself. Cleo repressed a smile. “So a sorceress is a very powerful witch?”