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“That’s impossible, princess. This is a dream and, like I said, this is only a copy of what is real. And even if it wasn’t, mortals do not enter the Sanctuary, just as Watchers do not leave it, unless in the form of a hawk.”
This might be a real conversation, but it was still within the confines of a dream. What she saw before her had no more weight in reality than a painting or sketch. She thought of Alexius’s hawk form and how he used it to travel to the mortal world to spy on her. It was an unsettling thought that he’d been watching her since she was only a baby.
“It is such a gift to take the form of something that can fly,” she finally said.
“A gift,” he said softly, and something sharp and pained in his voice tugged at her heart. “Or a curse. I suppose it depends entirely on how you look at it.”
She frowned, uncertain about his shift in tone. “You drew me into this dream because you say you can help me. How? Or is that unclear for you too?”
She did not mean to sound petulant, but she couldn’t help it. He hadn’t told her anything helpful, only tantalizing bits of information that had no solid use. Alexius’s face turned to the left, his brow creasing deeply. “Someone is here.”
She looked around. They were alone. “Who?”
Finally, his expression relaxed. “It’s my friend, Phaedra. She means us no harm. She probably wonders where I disappeared to.”
“Another Watcher?”
“Yes, of course. She’s helping with the search for information, part of what we have to—”
The next moment he vanished. One moment he was there, the following he was gone.
Lucia turned around in a circle, alarmed. “Alexius?”
And then the meadow, the Sanctuary, was gone, disappearing like broken glass falling away and leaving only darkness behind.
Chapter 5
JONAS
AURANOS
Hawk’s Brow, the largest city in Auranos, was an excellent place to witness the true effect of having the King of Blood on the throne.
It was also a great spot for two rebels to seed some revolution before heading back to their camp in the rough forests of the Wildlands.
“Look at them,” Jonas said to Brion as they moved down the side of the road in the heart of the vibrant business district—shiny taverns, luxurious inns, and shops selling all sorts of wares, from flowers to jewelry to clothing. “Going about business as usual.”
o;Eva is my middle name,” Lucia said, surprised.
“Yes, it is. And it was Eva who gave the prophecy with her last breath before she died—that the next sorceress would be born in a thousand years—a mortal girl who would wield elementia as she could. It is you. King Gaius knew of this prophecy all this time. He knew what you were to become. That is why he raised you as his own daughter.”
Lucia’s mind tripped over itself in an effort to keep up with him. “What happened to Eva? How could an immortal Watcher die?” “She made a mistake that cost her life.”
“What?”
A sad smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “She fell in love with the wrong boy—a mortal hunter who led her astray and away from her home and those who protected her. He destroyed her.”
Lucia realized that she’d drawn even closer to Alexius without even realizing it, so close that when he turned to face her again his sleeve brushed her arm. Despite this being a dream, she swore she felt the heat of his skin against hers.
She took a shaky step back from him.
Lucia had always been one to soak up books and information, her mind hungry for more than her tutors wanted to teach her. And no one seemed to know much about elementia, since magic was mostly considered legend, apart from some accused witches. Even Sabina, who proclaimed herself to be a witch, had shown no true sign of magic to Lucia—at least, not enough to defend herself when Lucia had protected herself and Magnus from that evil woman.
You didn’t have to kill her, a little voice said inside of her. The same voice that had tortured her ever since it happened. The memory of Sabina’s lifeless, charred body dropping to the floor flooded through her mind yet again.
“Tell me more, Alexius,” Lucia whispered. “Tell me everything.”
He raked a hand through his bronze hair, his expression growing uncertain. “It was a long time ago that Eva lived. Memories of her grow unclear, even for me.”
