Gathering Darkness by Morgan Rhodes Page A

said as she stepped inside the foyer. She looked up at the stained-glass ceiling and chiseled, winding staircase with a growing smile. “Yes, this is quite acceptable. The king knows how to treat his valued guests. I’m going to explore.”
    Prince Ashur stopped and stood in the doorway. “You do that, sister.”
    Amara disappeared up the stairway, followed by her handmaiden.
    â€œApologies for my sister’s rudeness,” Prince Ashur said. “I’m not sure she understands what just happened.”
    â€œWhat’s to understand?” Magnus asked, feigning friendliness. “You needed a place to stay, and this is that place.”
    â€œWe would have been just fine at the palace. We don’t want to be any trouble.”
    No, of course you don’t want that.
    Magnus turned to Cronus, who still stood at his side. “You’ll wait outside with the others until I’m ready to leave. I won’t be long.”
    Cronus bowed his head. “Yes, your highness.”
    Magnus and Ashur stepped into the foyer and closed the door behind them. Ashur barely spared a glance for the fine architecture, rich tapestries draped on the walls, and colorful mosaic tiled floor.
    â€œNot to your liking?” Magnus asked.
    â€œIt’s fine, of course,” Ashur said, his attention obviously elsewhere. “I must say, I’m pleased we’re finally getting a chance to speak privately.”
    â€œAre you?”
    Ashur nodded. “I’m curious to learn more about Mytica. Given your recent travels, I knew you were the one I should speak with.”
    Small talk about geography? How incredibly dull. “What do you want to know?”
    â€œI want you to tell me about the Kindred,” he replied without hesitation.
    The word landed like a blow. Magnus fought to appear impassive and give no sign that his heart had begun to beat rapidly. “My, that is a rather large subject to cover. But, unfortunately, it’s also not a worthwhile one. Why would you be interested in the stuff of legends and storybooks?”
    â€œBecause I don’t believe it’s just a legend. I believe the Kindred do exist.” Ashur looked at Magnus like a book he was trying to read.
    This was what the king feared—outsiders going after his treasure.
    Magnus’s
treasure.
    â€œIs that why you’re here?” Magnus asked. “To seek more information about the Kindred?”
    â€œYes,” Ashur replied simply.
    Kraeshians had no history of magic in their kingdom, nor did they typically have any cultural interest in such subjects. They were famous for preferring hard facts and common truths, and that the prince defied this trend proved he was either a bored royal with too much time on his hands . . . or a legitimate threat, just as the king suspected.
    Magnus forced a smile. “Most . . .
intelligent
people think the story of the Watchers and their eternal search for the Kindred is one that’s simply told to keep children well behaved and fearful that magical hawks are witnessing and judging their every naughty act.”
    â€œThere’s also the prophecy of a sorceress reborn whose magic will light the path to this source of ultimate power.”
    So, Lucia’s prophecy was known beyond Mytican shores. Magnus’s stomach sank at the thought, but he ignored the unpleasant sensation as best he could and held the prince’s gaze without flinching. “I’ve also heard this rumor. In fact, there are a handful of accused witches in the dungeon as we speak. Perhaps you’d like to ask
them
if they’re sorceresses?” He forced another smile. “Don’t waste your time on such silly ideas, Prince Ashur. There are plenty of other attractions for you to explore before you set sail back to your home. I’d be happy to suggest several you might wish to see.”
    The steady, unwavering sharpness in the prince’s