The Darkest Magic by Morgan Rhodes
Becca’s heart was pounding so fast that she found her steps had slowed down. The weight of her responsibilities felt like a two-ton elephant perched on her shoulders.
“Hey,” Maddox said, taking her hand in his. “You can do this.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“I believe in you.” He squeezed her hand. “That’s what you once said to me. It helped more than you’ll ever know.”
She met his gaze and gave him a small smile. “Thank you.”
“Well, well,” Cleiona said, gazing down at them as they reached the bottom of the golden dais. “Look who’s arrived. Part of me didn’t think I’d ever see you again, Barnabas.”
“Trust me,” he said tightly. “That would have been my preference.”
“The young ones talked some sense into you.”
“I wouldn’t exactly describe it as sense.”
After some struggling, Becca finally found her voice. “Excuse me,” she said meekly, “but I need to—”
Cleiona raised her hand, silencing Becca, her attention remaining entirely on Barnabas. “Sixteen years. It’s been sixteen years, and you hate me today just as much as you did then.”
“More, if that’s possible.”
“I know you think I killed Eva. I didn’t. I understand your desire for vengeance, but it is misplaced. Your hatred for me would be put to better use elsewhere.”
Barnabas’s jaw was clenched so tight it looked painful. “You and Valoria and all the others—you conspired against her. She told me her fears—fears that came to pass.”
“You weren’t there on that horrible day. You didn’t see what happened.”
“No, I did not. But what I do see are two goddesses seated upon the thrones of two grand palaces, while mortals kneel at their feet and worship their names. I see what you stole from Eva—the very things you were supposed to stand by her side and protect—burned into your palms. That is all the proof of your guilt I need.”
“And yet you still come before me today to ask for my assistance in destroying my sister.”
“I know you hate her.”
“You’re wrong. I don’t hate Valoria.” She frowned as she glanced at the hawk. “She is a bully, granted. And she sees no true value in mortal life. That’s how she’s always been. But down deep, her heart isn’t nearly as black as you think it is.”
Barnabas scoffed. “Then you must be referring to a place down very deep. Far too deep for a mere mortal like me to ever see.”
“I can make a request for you to have an open forum with Valoria and me, so that we might right any grievances you feel you have with either of us. We do have a longstanding agreement to keep to our separate ends of this kingdom, but seeing as how she’s recently taken up some extensive travel and a new obsession with Maddox, it would seem that the rules have changed.”
“Oh yes. The rules have most certainly changed.”
The goddess paused and fixed a small, sad smile on her face.
“You’ve such loathing in your eyes, Barnabas. You never looked at Liana with such venom.”
“Liana was a lie.”
“No, she wasn’t. Liana and I are the same in every way that counts.” She raised her chin. “In fact, you may continue to call me Liana if you wish.”
“I believe you prefer Your Goldenness now, don’t you? How interesting that you chose the moniker I hurled at you, especially considering that I didn’t mean it as a term of respect.”
“I found it amusing. Very few things in this world amuse me anymore.” She hesitated. “I want you to call me Liana.”
“No, I don’t think I will. Liana is dead to me, every bit as dead as Eva is. And I pray that the moment I leave here will be the last time I ever see you.”
The goddess flinched. “Very well.”
Becca was stunned by the boldness with which Barnabas spoke to the goddess, as if he had no fear that she might lash out at him with magic. But Cleiona absorbed it all, her beautiful face beset with grim lines, her vivid sapphire eyes filled with sadness.
Maddox squeezed Becca’s hand. “Go on, have your say,” he whispered. “You must be aggressive or you’ll never get a word in between these two.”
“Liana,” Becca said, and the goddess shifted her steady gaze toward her. “Barnabas came here because I insisted. You see, after you left, I remembered why I was sent here.”
“Is that so?”
Becca gathered all the courage she could so her voice wouldn’t tremble. She took a deep breath, then launched right in. “It was Markus who sent me here. With a message. Damen has returned.”
Cleiona blinked. She drew in a sharp breath, then sat down on her throne heavily. “Impossible.” Suddenly, her eyes blazed with fire as she narrowed them at Becca. “You would dare to come to me with such heinous lies?”
Oh crap. “N-no, not lies,” Becca pleaded as calmly as she could. “It’s the truth!”
“It can’t be. Markus is gone, exiled. By now his magic will have faded away to nothing. And Damen . . . Damen is long dead.”
She couldn’t back down now. It didn’t matter how kind Liana had seemed; Becca had no doubt that if Cleiona thought she was a liar only here to try to manipulate her, she’d react with the exact opposite of kindness. She needed to convince Cleiona she was for real—and fast.
“Damen possesses death magic—he can kill someone with a thought,” she said, and she had to brush off Maddox’s look of shock in order to continue. “I’ve seen it myself. I also know that he was Eva’s twin brother. In a vision I saw Eva siphon his magic and stab him with a golden dagger—the same dagger Markus stole from the immortals before he was exiled. Just before I came here, Damen imprisoned Markus and me. We were in the same cell together, and Markus used the last of his magic to send me here to give you this message.”
The goddess stared at her, her expression shifting from fury to a mix of emotions that were ultimately unreadable. Flames still danced in her eyes. “And just who are you that you’re able to have such visions? Who are you that you can travel between worlds?”
Becca swallowed hard. “I am Markus’s daughter.”
Cleiona went deadly silent. Becca felt a cold trickle of perspiration slide down her spine. She didn’t look at Maddox or Barnabas, trying to keep her attention fixed on the goddess.
Cleiona stood up, descended the stairs, and stood before Becca. She reached out and grasped Becca’s chin tightly, lifting it up.
Staring deeply back at the goddess, she could feel the heat from the goddess’s eyes singeing her skin. Becca wasn’t sure which was more horrifying: fire-filled eyes or fully black ones.
The goddess inspected Becca closely, sweeping her gaze over her features and hair, then appraising her entire body from head to foot. By her stern expression, Becca could tell she didn’t like what she saw.
“Markus told you to find me specifically?” she asked. “How strange. I was never one of his favorites.”
The hawk, still perched on the arm of the throne, squawked.
“Well . . . ,” Becca started, “he told me that the important thing was for me to find any immortal. Valoria had already shown that she wouldn’t listen to reason, but I thought you would. I hoped you would.”
“Damen cannot be alive,” she said, her voice breaking midway through.
Cleiona squeezed her eyes shut for a long while. When she opened them, they had returned to their jewel-like blue shade.
Barnabas cocked his head. “Are you . . . crying?”
The goddess blinked her glistening eyes. “Of course not.”
“You’re terrified,” he said so quietly it was almost a whisper. Concern slid through his gaze, and he took a step closer to her, reaching for the goddess before his hand dropped to his side. “Not that it’s of any concern to me, of course. Just, don’t cry. It’s not a becoming habit for a goddess.”
“Thank you so much for your interest in what I should and should not do.” Cleiona inhaled shakily and turned back to B
“Nothing more,” Becca said, giving a helpless shrug. “I assumed you’d know what to do next.”
“You assumed, did you?” She laughed, and it sounded pained and humorless. “Damen nearly destroyed my entire world. He reduced it to a gaping hole of nothingness. My closest allies and confidantes are now trapped in a small fragment of what was spared. And because of this horrible mistake”—she held out her palms to show the elemental symbols—“they are trapped there, just as I am trapped here.”
“Mistake?” Barnabas repeated. “You stole the Kindred so you and Valoria could become goddesses.”
“Wrong,” she snapped. “Another example of your mortal ignorance. We merely touched the crystals and they burned themselves into our very souls, changing us forever. Valoria may have you fooled, but this”—she gestured with her palms again—“is a burden, a daily torture that I have barely been able to withstand all these years. And I’m very sorry, Becca, but there is little that I can do about Damen. Even now, I don’t have the power to stop him.”
“But Markus said—”
“I don’t care what Markus said. He’s a liar,” she hissed. “You say he sacrificed all of his magic to send you here? Even if it were to relate such vital information, I don’t believe Markus would so readily forsake his immortal life. No, he’s not truly dead. I don’t believe it for a moment.”
“I saw him disappear—he, like, exploded in a flash of light! Nothing was left behind.”
Cleiona scoffed. “You abide by the rules of a mortal’s life and death. We are different.” She crossed her arms over her magnificent golden gown and began pacing back and forth.
“Her Radiance could help,” Al piped up from his sack. “Imagine: two great minds working together with all of your magic combined. You did just deny that you hate her.”
“It’s difficult for Valoria and me to be in close proximity for very long.”
“And why is that?” Barnabas asked.
Cleiona flicked her impatient gaze to him but didn’t reply to his question. Then she looked to Maddox. “I have been searching for you all these years, believing you were a girl. And now here you are.” She shook her head, her gaze solemn and pensive. “You look so much like your father, but I do see your mother in you too.”
While Becca was somewhat relieved to see Cleiona soften now, she was also growing increasingly impatient for the goddess to make some sort of decision, to come up with some masterful plan for how to save her world from Damen. She desperately tried to hold her tongue.
The goddess furrowed her brow. “I have something to share with you, Maddox,” she said. “This is clearly the right time to do so. But . . . I find that I’m not quite ready yet. I will arrange accommodations for you all so you can rest and eat, and then we will speak again, when I decide that it’s time.”
Becca couldn’t hold in her growing anger for a moment longer. “You want us to just wait around until you’re ready to deal with this? My world is in horrible danger! The other night, I watched as Damen killed five people without even blinking an eye. And you want to dismiss us so we can rest and eat?”
Cleiona’s brows drew together. “I understand your urgency—”
“No, I don’t think you do!”
“—but this is my decision and mine alone.”
“Fine,” Barnabas said, clearly trying to avoid angering the goddess any further. “We’ll stay, but for a short time only. But if you keep a harem of men for your personal pleasure, I’d like to know which wing of the palace to avoid, if you please.”
“There is no harem here,” she said coolly.
“Good.” He cleared his throat somewhat awkwardly.
“I need to think by myself,” Cleiona said. “I will send for you all when I’m ready to speak again.” She gestured to a pair of guards, who approached her at once. “My friends need living quarters and sustenance. Please take very good care of them for me.”
The guards bowed. “Yes, Your Goldenness.”
• • •
Sitting in her sleeping chambers, which were larger and more opulent than the entire second floor of Angus’s lavish apartment, Becca couldn’t relax. How could she? Even in these accommodations fit for a princess, all she did was pace.
Did her family know she was gone? Were they safe? What had Damen done when he realized that she and Markus had disappeared from the dungeon?
Would Cleiona find a way to stop Damen? Or had the journey here been nothing but a horrible mistake?
And without her shadow with her, how was she ever supposed to get back home?
Too many questions and not nearly enough answers.
She barely picked at the trays and platters of food—fruit, cheese, small delectable-looking pastries—that were brought to her room. She felt too ill, too worried, to even think about eating, but she forced herself to nibble on some of it to maintain her strength.
Becca stood on the balcony and stared out at the beautiful green landscape and the bright blue sky. The sun had been high when they’d arrived, and now it was only a short time before dusk.
There was a knock at the door. She opened it slowly and peered outside.
Maddox stood in front of her, a lopsided smile on his face. “Did you rest?”
She shook her head. “I can’t sleep.”
He frowned. “But the bed is so soft! I’ve never felt anything like it.” He shook his head. “Never mind that. Cleiona’s summoned us back to the throne room. It seems she’s finished thinking about . . . whatever she’s been thinking about.”
Relief washed through her. “Thank God. I was worried she’d take days.”
Together they slipped out of the room and navigated the maze of hallways leading to the throne room. She was glad Maddox seemed to know the way, since she definitely didn’t.
“Everything will be fine,” Maddox assured her. “I know you’re worried, but Cleiona and Valoria will figure it out.”
“You’re willing to trust them?”
“Uh, definitely not.”
“Then what makes you think everything will be okay?” She grabbed his hand, stopping him there in the corridor. She searched his face. She really wanted to know the answer to her question. If he felt confident, then maybe she could too.
“Honestly?” He studied the floor and shifted his stance as he spoke. “When you went back to your home, I never thought I’d see you again. But you came back. I know it wasn’t because of me, but in that moment, when I first saw you in the forest, I knew with all certainty that anything is possible.”
How had this boy managed to work his way into her heart so deeply and so permanently in such a short time? She’d never met anyone like him. There was no one else in the entire universe like Maddox Corso.
“I have to confess something kind of dumb,” she said, chewing her bottom lip for a moment before she continued. “But when you kissed me just before I left . . . that was my first kiss. Ever.”
He laughed a bit nervously. “It was mine too.”
He looked up from the floor. Their gazes locked, and they held them there.
The sound of footsteps ruffled Becca’s concentration, but neither of them looked away. From the corner of her eye, she could see Barnabas carrying Al’s sack, strolling down the hallway toward them. “Are you two coming to meet with Her Goldenness or what?”
Becca finally tore her gaze away from Maddox’s, her cheeks warm.
Maddox grumbled something Becca couldn’t hear.
“Apologies, was I interrupting something?” Barnabas said.
“Of course not,” Maddox hissed.
“I am starting to hate this sack,” Al complained. “I can’t see a thing! Plus, it itches. I can’t wait to have my body back.”
Becca repressed a smile as they all continued down the hallway toward the throne room. Becca kept her pace a bit slower than Maddox’s and Barnabas’s, since she wante
The men rounded the corner ahead of her. Becca was about to do the same when an iron bar of an arm came around her from behind. A hand clamped against her mouth to silence her scream.
Chapter 28
MADDOX
Becca had disappeared.
Frantic, Maddox searched the halls for her, retracing his steps all the way back to her chambers.
“Where is she?” he asked, his throat tight.
“I don’t know.” Barnabas helped with the search, bringing Al out of his sack so they’d have another pair of eyes.
“Perhaps she’s returned to her world,” Al suggested.
“Just like that? Without any warning?” Maddox said. He hated to think it might be true, but it did seem to be the most likely explanation.
Just the thought of it—that she was gone, and he might never see her again—overwhelmed him. In the face of so much pain and trouble, Becca’s arrival had given him new hope for the future.
Had that hope been ripped away from him so soon after it had been delivered?
He stopped walking. Feeling weak and lightheaded, he bent over and braced himself with his hands on his thighs, trying to breathe.
Barnabas laid his hand on Maddox’s back. “It’ll be all right, son.”
“No, it won’t.”
“She delivered her message. That was why she was here in the first place. The only reason. I know it’s painful, but if she’s gone, then we know that this is the way it needs to be.”
“I am loath to remind you,” Al said nervously, “but the goddess is waiting. In my experience, an endless amount of patience is one thing goddesses do not possess.”
Barnabas nodded and looked at Maddox with both sympathy and urgency. With heavy steps and a heavier heart, Maddox followed his father to the throne room. On the way, they passed a crystal-paned window that looked out to the gardens.
“The sky,” Barnabas said warily. It took effort, but Maddox focused his bleary gaze and saw that the heavens were suddenly dark with storm clouds, blotting out any sunset.