By now, the tent was engulfed in flames. The fire licked at them both, so hot it burned.
Jonas spun the sword around and drove the hilt into Magnus’s gut, earning a satisfying grunt of pain. But before he could manage another blow, Magnus grabbed for a handful of Jonas’s hair, tearing it out by its roots and kneeing him in the chest. He then managed to yank the sword completely from Jonas’s grip.
“We need get out of here or we’ll die,” Magnus growled.
“I came here prepared to die today. In fact, I already did.”
Jonas tackled Magnus and lurched both of them backward. As they fell, Jonas angled himself so that it was Magnus’s head that slammed against the side of the burning table. It was hard enough to stun the prince, and he knelt on the ground, gasping for breath, sword in hand.
Still, Magnus grasped hold of Jonas before he was able to slip away.
“I have a dungeon just for you, rebel,” he promised.
Five guards approached the burning tent, shouting Magnus’s name.
“Here!” he called out to them. “I have a prisoner!”
“Wrong,” Jonas snarled, using every last piece of his strength to wrench away from Magnus’s grip, yanking the sword away from the prince again. He brought the blade down, but Magnus rolled out of the way just in time.
Jonas swore, eyeing the approaching guards who loomed at the tent’s burning entry.
“Seize him!” Magnus yelled.
“Perhaps another time, your highness.” He’d come here to take Magnus as a prisoner, but if he tarried another moment, it would be the other way around.
Without wasting another moment, he cut through the side of the tent and burst out into the chaos outside, ducking and hiding to avoid being seen by any guards through the magical wildfire that raged all around them.
To his right, he saw an older, bald man and a young girl huddled close, away from the carnage, looking around with fear and confusion. The tents were all on fire now. The road camp was an inferno.
Strewn everywhere on the ground were burning bodies-guard or rebel, their blood spilled across the road as if it was a violent and fiery canvas. Some had turned to the strange crystal form after being touched by the fire-broken and scattered across the dusty ground.
Where is Lysandra?
It was his first coherent thought.
He strained his eyes to find her, to find any rebels, but he saw no one apart from those that lay dead on the ground. He couldn’t count. He wasn’t sure how many had fallen.
The body of a dead girl with long, dark hair lay across his path, an arrow pierced through her heart. He stopped breathing completely at the sight of her.
“No. Please, no.” He crouched down, pushing her hair off her face.
But it was not Lysandra. It was Onoria.
A loss. . a horrible loss to them all. Onoria was an incredibly brave and clever rebel.
After closing her eyes, he got up quickly and ducked behind a tent. He couldn’t stay here. If he did, he would be killed, either by the fire that continued to rage or by a guard.
“Lys,” he whispered. “Where are you? Damn it. Where?”
She had to be alive. Lysandra Barbas was not meant to die tonight.
No, he decided firmly. She was alive.
And if she was, he would find her.
CHAPTER 33
LYSANDRA
AURANOS
Lysandra stumbled as a guard shoved her into a dark and crowded cell, and she fell hard to the dirt floor. The stone walls were damp and smelled of mildew and death. At the top of the tall wall, there was a small window no bigger than her hand, just large enough to let in a ray of sunshine, taunting her with the freedom that had finally been stolen from her.
Only five of them had made it to their destination alive. Phineas had spoken up during the trip to the Auranian dungeon, mouthed off to a guard, and had his throat cut immediately, his body tossed off the side of a bridge.
The rest remained silent after this. Lysandra held tightly on to Tarus’s sweaty hand most of the way. The young boy was terrified, but he tried to be brave. For her. She didn’t know what had become of Jonas, but she refused to believe he was dead.
Why? So many of them had fallen.
But maybe Jonas was one of those who’d gotten away. Maybe he was, even now, mounting a rescue attempt.
No. She wouldn’t let herself think of such things that could only lead to disappointment.
If she was going to get out of here, she’d have to do it herself.
Somehow.
She looked up at the tiny window bleakly. It was hopeless and she knew it. A tear slid down her cheek.
“Little Lys, don’t cry.” The familiar voice reached out from the darkness.
Her head snapped to the boy sitting in the corner.
“Gregor?” She couldn’t believe her own eyes. She ran to her brother’s side, dropping down next to him. She grabbed his dirty hands in hers to prove this was real. “You’re here. You’re alive!”
“Barely.” He tried to smile. “It’s so good to see you, sister.”
“I thought you were dead! I searched for you in the road camps, but I couldn’t find you anywhere!”
“I escaped and made my way to Limeros but was captured a couple weeks ago. They carted me all the way here on orders from the prince himself. Been in here ever since. Not much longer, though. I think they’re finally finished asking me questions. They never seem satisfied with my answers. Only my death will please them now.”
“Don’t talk like that. This is what I needed, Gregor.” Her heart grew lighter than it had in days. In weeks! “This is the sign I needed that everything’s going to be all right. We’re alive, we’re together again, and we’re going to get out of this.”
His gaze grew distant. “That’s what she told me, too. She always told me to have hope. I wish I could see her again, but she hasn’t visited me for weeks.”
Lysandra glanced around the small, stinking cell, her gaze moving over the other prisoners, some of whom were sleeping. “See who?”
“The girl made of gold and silver.”
“What?”
“She told me her name is Phaedra. She’s visited me in my dreams, told me to be patient. That I will find new hope. I figure she must have been talking about you. They put you in my cell, Lys. Mine. In a place as big as this-that has to mean something, right?”
“Who is she? What do you mean she visited you in your dreams?”
He looked past her, his expression wistful. “She’s a Watcher, little Lys. She told me not to despair. That I could still make a difference. . and that there were others like me who could help. I thought she was mad.”
“A Watcher visited you in your dreams,” Lysandra said with disbelief. “Perhaps she’s not the one who’s mad.”
He laughed, the sound dry and brittle. “You could be right.”
“What else did this Watcher tell you?”
Gregor’s brows drew together and he squeezed Lysandra’s hands. “She said when the sorceress’s blood is spilled and the sacrifice is made, they will finally be free.” Her brother’s haunted eyes met hers. “And the world will burn. That’s what she said, little Lys. The world will burn.”
CHAPTER 34
CLEO
AURANOS
“My son has returned to the palace.” The king’s words wrapped around Cleo’s throat like an icy glove, stopping her in her tracks as she moved through the halls. “I’m sure you’ve greatly anticipated his return.”
She turned slowly to see King Gaius standing in the shadows, accompanied by Cronus and his dreadful hunting dogs.
“With bated breath, your majesty.”
“He captured a group of rebels who attacked one of my road camps. Those that did not fall under his blade have accompanied him back here for public execution.”