Rebel Spring A Falling Kingdoms(37)

She brushed past him. “I’ll do better than tell you. I will show you, my king, what you need to see to give you incentive to hasten progress.”

He turned to see a round table appear on the black marble floor in the center of the large room. He moved to it to look at the map of Mytica on its surface. It was a familiar sight, since he had a map just like this in the Limerian palace.

Melenia slid her slender index finger sensually along the western coastline as if she were caressing a lover. “It’s all yours. Every mile. Every mortal. Mytica belongs to you now, even without more magic than you already have at your disposal.”

The mention of magic drew his attention back to her flawless face. “When will she wake?”

He had used Lucia’s magic to defeat King Corvin before Melenia had shown herself to him. Before she’d drawn him into a dream like this and explained who she was and what she wanted from him. She needed a powerful mortal’s assistance, and out of everyone in the world, she’d chosen him.

“The young sorceress will wake when it’s time,” Melenia replied.

Gaius smashed his fist down against the map. “Not good enough. I need her to be awake now. A promise of future magic is no good to me when I have magic already in my possession but currently useless.”

Many would cower in the face of his rage—those who possessed intelligence and self-preservation, that was.

Melenia was different. She feared nothing. “Do you think I will bow down before you and beg for your forgiveness, your majesty?” She continued to smile, as if he amused her. It both infuriated and intrigued him that she should show such disrespect. Not even Sabina had been so bold. “I bow before no one.”

“Those who don’t bow before me die.”

“I’m immortal—the first of my kind. I’ve lived for more than four thousand years. I’ve seen this world change and evolve and grow from its very infancy. I’ve seen the birth of mortal kings and their inevitable deaths so many times it’s become tedious. That is, until you. Shall I tell you a secret—the reason why I first came to you with my plans? It was not only a lovely coincidence, my king.”

“You said this road would lead to the Kindred; that its location would be revealed to me in the Forbidden Mountains and that Xanthus would keep me informed on everything.” Frustration welled within him, swirling like lava. “But I’ve received no word of anything found in the mountains so far. No clues, no signs. Where do we look? I need more proof that what you’re telling me is true, Melenia.”

“And I need you to trust me.”

“I trust no one.”

“No one? Not even your son, who you believe is so much like you?”

“He’s still young. He has much more to prove to me before he fully earns my trust.”

“And yet you told him about me.”

“I told him only that I had a new advisor. He’s not ready to believe anything more. Not yet. But if there is one I would tell about you, about everything, it would be him.”

This beautiful immortal could have spies listening in on his private conversations. Her kind could take the form of hawks to watch over mortals. But not Melenia herself. She was trapped in the Sanctuary, as all the eldest Watchers were. There was no escape for her, no contact with the mortal world, except in dreams like this.

“Your adopted daughter will wake, but not yet. She is integral to my plan, to your future. To your . . . prophecy.”

He stilled. “My prophecy?”

Melenia nodded, sliding her cool, light touch over the line of his jaw. “Yes. It is one I saw for myself, so I know it is true.”

“What prophecy?”

When she replied with only a mischievous smile, he took hold of her arms tight enough to make any normal woman flinch.

“Tell me,” he growled.

“Let go of me and I shall, my king.”

The desire to hurt her, to cause her pain and force her to speak truths, was strong, but he knew it wouldn’t help. She looked so delicate in stature, as if her bones might snap like twigs with the merest amount of pressure. But she wasn’t delicate—just the opposite. He had to remember that. If he mistreated her, in insult or action, she might never give him audience again.

He wasn’t willing to risk that. Not yet.

He released her.

“The prophecy is that there would one day be a mortal king who would rule over this kingdom.” She brushed her hand against the map of Mytica again. “One who would discover a great magic that would turn him into an immortal god. That he would rule his kingdom with a goddess as his queen. And that they would in turn rule everything, this world and all that lies beyond, and everyone, be they mortal or immortal, would bow before them. It is you, my king. And I shall be your queen.”