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The knowledge of Eva’s waning magic had been troubling her ever since Timotheus first told Lucia about it. “I don’t understand,” she said. “If Eva was the first, the most powerful sorceress, how could she let herself be defeated and drained of her magic?”
Timotheus now had a faraway look on his face. “Her magic was weakened by the half-mortal child she carried within her. A secret she tried to conceal from everyone, including me. When Melenia discovered Eva’s pregnancy, she took it as an opportunity to rise in power by killing her elder, and Eva could not properly defend herself.”
“So Eva didn’t have a vision of her own future.”
“Neither have I of mine. But I’ve seen many versions of yours. And I advise you to choose your path wisely.”
“Tell me these futures and perhaps I’ll understand you better!” The words tore from her throat. “If you want me to do the right thing so desperately that you insist on pulling me into these dreams, then tell me what the consequences are!”
But Timotheus didn’t reply. Instead, the meadow faded away to darkness.
Lucia opened her eyes and found herself tucked into her bed at the inn.
“Many versions of my future . . .” she whispered aloud.
Suddenly, a violent wave of nausea hit her. She ran to the chamber pot, and barely made it there before she threw up. This was the third morning in a row that this had happened, and she knew this sickness had likely contributed to her weakening magic.
She hadn’t felt this lousy in . . . well, ever.
And she hated feeling weak.
“Stupid Timotheus.” She sat there, on the floor of her small room, and pulled her knees up against her chest, rocking herself back and forth. As she waited for the next wave of nausea to pass she remembered what the immortal had told her about the original sorceress.
Despite her vast power, despite her immortality, Eva’s magic had faded when a half-mortal child grew within her.
Lucia thought her magic, too, appeared to be fading.
turned her back to him and walked away.
• • •
Lucia tossed and turned for ages, her thoughts in turmoil. It was as if the vivid memories of all she’d witnessed and been party to with Kyan over these past weeks had been branded in her mind.
Though she spent nearly all her energy trying not to think of Alexius, the image of his face came to her now, along with his words of love, his promises for the future. They were like daggers to her heart.
She thought of Magnus, her best friend and the only brother she’d ever known, reaching for her, offering to help her despite all she’d done to taint their relationship over the past year.
She thought of her father, who, despite his cruelty toward others, had never been anything but kind and understanding with her—even before he became certain she was the sorceress he believed her to be.
She thought of Cleo, how Lucia had reluctantly befriended her, and for a while had felt like she’d met someone she might trust with her deepest, darkest secrets.
And then Jonas, a boy she’d known only by reputation until that day in the market, when she’d stood by and witnessed his stunned devastation after Kyan murdered his friend—a brave girl who’d only tried to protect him.
Wherever Lucia went, she brought pain with her. There was a time not so long ago when she might not have cared, but now . . .
She asked herself the same question everyone was always asking Kyan.
Who am I? What am I?
Honestly, she didn’t really know anymore. All she knew for sure was that there was no turning back.
It took a small eternity before the darkness of sleep finally claimed her.
But soon that darkness brightened, transforming itself into a familiar meadow. Standing there before her was a handsome young man in shimmering white robes.
No, not tonight, she thought. She couldn’t bear to face him tonight.
Lucia turned in a quick circle, frantically searching for an escape but already knowing she was trapped.
