Frozen Tides
Page 70

Lucia 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.
“It’s been some time, Lucia,” Timotheus said. “How have you been?”
“Go away. Let me wake up.”
“Has the fire Kindred been behaving himself?”
She wondered what he knew, what he’d seen. What he might be able to read in her sleeping mind. His confident posturing here, in this place over which he had complete control, intimidated her.
Lucia forced a smile, but didn’t try to make it look friendly. “Kyan’s just wonderful, thank you for asking.”
His lips stretched out to a thin smile. “I’m sure he is.”
She let out a sigh of frustration. “This is the second dream you’ve pulled me into. What’s your reason tonight? Other than wanting to annoy me.”
“Have you forgiven Alexius for deceiving you?”
Once again, the sound of his name was a blow. “I’ll never forgive him.”
“He deserves better than for you to hate him for Melenia’s choices.”
Her eyes began to sting with tears, which only infuriated her further. “That’s a matter of opinion.”
“One day you’ll forgive him for leaving you to make stupid, selfish decisions all by yourself.”
“Oh, Timotheus, this verbal abuse only makes me hate you more.”
“You have no reason to hate me.”
“Kyan does.”
“Perhaps. But you are not Kyan.” Timotheus leaned against the apple tree and studied her with his ancient golden eyes. “So. Why have I brought you into another dream, you wonder? Especially after the poor impression you left me with the first time?”
“I’m not the only one who left a poor impression.”
Timotheus ignored her jab and went on. “I brought you here again because I believe Alexius truly loved you—even before he knew you were the prophesied sorceress. I knew Alexius, better than anyone else, and he wouldn’t have given his love to someone who didn’t possess true worth. He died to save your life.”
Timotheus’s unexpected words were like a hand thrusting through her chest and tearing out her beating heart.
She opened her mouth to retort, but found herself unable to find the words. Instead, the burning sensation in her eyes intensified.
“Tell me, Lucia. Are you finding much joy in the death and destruction you leave in your wake? Do the screams of the innocents Kyan kills lighten your heart, give you strength? Make you feel powerful?”
His harsh words—words that resounded so strongly with the doubts within her heart—made her breath catch in her chest. But she wouldn’t let him get to her. If she didn’t stay strong, she knew she’d lose all remaining control over herself.
“Tell me, Timotheus,” she said. “Do I frighten you?”
He raised a brow. “You? Frighten me?”
“Does the thought of what I did to Melenia keep you up at night, knowing I might be out in the darkness, waiting to bring about an end to your offensively long existence?”
“Not nearly as much as you might wish to believe.” Timotheus watched her for a very long time, his gaze steady on hers. “You should know that even when Eva was at her weakest, she never lost faith in our mission to protect the world. She’s the only one of our kind I ever trusted completely. Even after she fell in love with a mortal.”
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.