Falling Kingdoms

Without delay, and with the protection of twenty Limerian guards, they guided her across the battlefield, scattered with bodies. She tried not to see the faces of the dead. All of this senseless pain and destruction could have been prevented if Auranos had surrendered. She had grown to hate them as much as her father did for letting this escalate.

“You must stop if it becomes too much for you,” Magnus said when they arrived at the castle’s entrance, only loud enough for her to hear. “Promise me.”

“I promise.” She nodded, then turned her attention to the tall wooden doors before her. There was no mistaking that there most definitely was a spell on these doors. A very powerful one. “Can you see it?”

“What?”

“The spell. It shimmers on the door. I—I think it’s created from all four elements combined.”

Magnus shook his head. “I see nothing but a door. A big one.”

The door wasn’t the problem. The spell was. And it was cast by a very powerful witch—one who had delved deeply into magic to create something like this.

Blood magic helped with this spell, Lucia thought suddenly. Someone—or many someones—had been sacrificed to create such protection.

That the Auranians were willing to allow such a thing only strengthened her resolve. There was blood on their hands as much—or more so—than anyone else’s.

It would take a great deal of Lucia’s magic to break through this wall of protection. She couldn’t doubt herself. Her power was strongest when it came from a deep, emotional place inside. She remembered how she’d felt when she saw Magnus at the edge of death and summoned her newfound magic.

It rose up to the surface to greet her. The strength of air, the grit of earth, the endurance of water, and the scorch of fire.

Magnus and the others watched as she thrust her hands out toward the doors, toward the spell, and unleashed it all.

As Lucia’s magic met the other witch’s blood magic, they combusted. The protection spell rose up like a fiery dragon in an attempt to fight her—but her father was right. Her magic was more powerful. It compensated. It changed. It grew right before her eyes.

The doors exploded in a ball of fire, shaking the ground beneath their feet. The shock wave hit everyone within a hundred-foot radius, knocking them backward. Lucia hit the ground hard and pain crashed over her.

Screams of terror filled her ears. People were dying, on fire, some with their throats slashed from sharp wooden shards hitting them; some victims lay in pieces, limbs scattered. Rivers of blood soaked into the earth.

The last thing Lucia saw before she passed out was the force of her father’s army storming through the broken, burning doorway and into the Auranian castle.

After the explosion that blasted open the front doors, chaos descended. Cleo couldn’t give in to her grief, couldn’t fall to her knees and sob over her sister’s death. She had no choice but to keep moving. Their enemies had breached the castle.

Screams of fear and the violent clang of swords met her ears as she and Nic ran through the halls. She clung to his arm. “What can we do?”

There was sweat on his brow as he kept his attention on their path. “I have to find Mira. We need to...I don’t know. I want to help. I want to fight, but I know your father would want me to keep you and my sister safe.”

“How? How can we be safe now?”

Nic shook his head, his expression grim. “We’ll have to hide. Then try to escape when we have the chance.”

“I need to find my father.”

He nodded, then swore under his breath. Storming down the dark hallway toward them was Aron. He grabbed hold of Nic’s shirt.

“They’re everywhere,” Aron cried. “Goddess help us. They managed to blast their way in!”

“Are you all right?” Cleo asked despite herself. The boy bled from a cut under his left eye.

“Someone grabbed me. I fought them, got away. Took this for protection.” He had a bloody dagger clutched in his right hand. A flash of Tomas Agallon’s murder tore through her mind and her throat closed. She forced the memory away.

As Aron drew closer, she could smell the wine on his breath. “You’re drunk!”

He shrugged. “Maybe a little.”

Her lip curled with disgust. “It’s barely daybreak and you’re already drunk.”

He ignored her. “So what are we supposed to do now?”

“Nic wants to find Mira and then for us to hide.”

“I think that’s an excellent idea. What about your sister?”

“Emilia—she...she’s dead.” Her throat tightened and Nic pulled her closer to his side.

Aron’s bleary face went pale with shock. “Cleo, no. I can’t believe it.”

Cleo drew in a ragged breath. “There’s no time. Say nothing more about it. She’s gone and there’s nothing I can do to help her now. We need to survive. And I need to find my father.” She looked at Nic. “Go find Mira. Meet us in the corridor by the stairs to the upper level in fifteen minutes. If we’re not there, continue on and hide where you can. There are plenty of rooms up there. Find one and be as quiet as you can. This is a very large castle, and this siege can’t last forever.”

“It’ll be all right?” Nic gestured at Aron. “With him as your only protector?”

“It’ll have to be.”

Nic nodded. “I’ll see you soon. Be safe, Cleo.” He quickly kissed her cheek before he turned and ran off down the hall.