His comment pushed me into silence, I couldn't read him anymore. At one time we shared a genuine openness and ease. Now, even our conversations were forced and awkward. How were we ever going to convince the kingdom that we were in love?

I followed Kiran through the Citadel, marveling at the ancient architecture and delicacy of the manicured stone. The city could have held thousands of people, but most of the buildings remained empty. There were stores and apartments, little cottages and places for gathering. There were public markets and an elegant outdoor music hall, with a tall balcony and private seats. The roads were not big enough for vehicles, but the antiquated city didn't feel as though it would allow such modern convenience on its dainty roads and inside its old-world walls.

When we passed by an enormous fountain in the middle of the city, I stopped, moved by the structure and in need of a minute to catch my breath. Kiran paused too, waiting quietly for me to graze my fingers across the polished stone and gaze up at the ornate statues. Four Immortals stood in a circle facing each other, two men and two women alternating. Thick, stone robes flowed down in realistic wraps of fabric and four delicate and elaborate crowns adorned their heads. They held one hand casually at their side, while their right hands extended forward to strongly grasp at two enormous snakes, intertwined together, each curled around eating their own tail, one's head at the top of the circle, and one's head at the bottom hovering just above the bubbling pool. Water trickled down from the snakes into an elegant waterfall that hit the pool of water circling the feet of Immortal's in graceful musical chimes.

“What does it mean, Kiran?” I asked, breaking my reverent silence. I couldn't tear my eyes from the statue; it held meaning for me, even if I wasn't sure what that meaning was yet.

“The statue?” Kiran took a step closer to me, his fingers resting casually on the stone next to mine.

“The snake, I've seen it countless times, but I still don't know what it means,” I admitted.

“It's the symbol of immortality. It was given to our people when there first became a distinction between humanity and Immortals. The monarchy still uses it today, but even humans recognize it. In fact, your tattoo is very controversial. In the kingdom, only the royal bloodline is allowed to use the symbol, which is why I think your grandfather chose it for his rebellion,” Kiran explained. I pretended not to hear the venerating tone to his voice as he explained the meaning or when he spoke of Amory. I planned on killing him at the end of this, and for my own sake, I couldn't associate him with feelings, especially not with emotional ties to our people or my family.

“So what does the statue mean?” I pressed, knowing these polite moments between us were rare.

“The statue is of the Oracles, Amory is that one over there,” Kiran pointed to a young man with strong arms and a dignified face. Even in stone, his hair could easily be described as dark and unruly and his eyes still held that deep mystery that proved he was more than human. “Before there was a castle on this land, before there were walls, this was simply a city and the fountain erected to remind our people of their equality. But now.... Well, now it's just an ancient landmark protected by magic so that none of the kings can destroy it.”

“Is that true?” I whispered, picturing the thousands of years between when this fountain was built and today where kings throughout the centuries, looking just like Lucan, tried with the entire power of their Titan Guard to demolish something so meaningful and symbolic.

“Yes, it's true. They've all tried, just like they all tried to kill Amory,” Kiran mumbled, tracing the lines of the stone with absent fingers.

At another mention of my grandfather, I couldn't help but lump Kiran in with his ancestors, “So will you try to? Will you try to destroy this fountain?” I demanded, turning toward him with crossed arms and leaning my hip against the cold, wet stone. There was a part of me, a strong but new part, that felt tied to this statue, determined to protect it.

“I'm not my father, Eden,” he said quietly, but confidently. He lifted his eyes from his fingers and turned their deep aqua intensity on me, “And unless you do something about my father, I will never be king.”

“I'm-” I started to defend myself against what sounded like a ringing accusation but Kiran cut me off.

“Listen, the Titans we are going to see all have the King's Curse and are deathly ill. I am hoping, I mean, if you will cooperate.... What I would like to try is your blue smoke on them.” Kiran paused, flinching, bracing himself for an argument with me, but after a few moments of silence he continued. “I know that they are Titans and you probably think of them like enemies, but I would rather not see any Immortal die if there is an alternative. I am hoping that you will want to help them.”

“I will help them,” I answered humbly. I agreed with Kiran, they were my enemies, but my fight was with Lucan, not with the Titans. I wanted our entire kingdom to be united. I wanted to end the bloodshed, and if I could, end the Curse as well. So I would do what I could and hope that if I could save them, they might change their mind about me. “If I can,” I added quickly. I didn't want to make promises that I couldn't keep. My blue smoke saved Avalon and I once from the King's Curse, but I didn't know what kind of power it had on others, yet.

“Thank you,” Kiran answered and stood there for a moment longer staring at me. His lips curved, and then twisted in the corner as if he were going to say something witty, but then a cloud of emotion crossed his face and he turned around instead, leading me to the outer walls of the Citadel and toward housing built into the fortification.

Kiran knocked on the first wooden door with excited anticipation. A middle-aged looking woman with long waves of thick black hair answered the door, relief flooding her face at the sight of him. She bowed respectfully and then her navy blue eyes flickered to mine in confused distrust.

“Callea, how is he?” Kiran asked, stepping inside the door. He pulled me inside after him, and then slipped his arm around my waist. I was startled at first, but then relaxed, realizing this was part of our game. It wasn't just guests, but current tenants we needed to convince.

“Not well, I'm afraid he is in the last hours. He will be so happy you've come, Your Majesty. You will lift his spirits.

“I hope to do more than that,” Kiran whispered, hope tinting his voice. “I've brought help.” Kiran looked down at me and instinctively I looked up. I stood stunned in his gaze for a few moments, trying to reconcile the indifference I knew he felt for me and the unnerving adoration displayed across his face now. His eyes twinkled in brilliant turquoise, while his full lips were curled into a loving smile.

“Is this she?” Callea asked, turning the fullness of her gaze on me for the first time. Her eyes could have easily been mistaken for black; their deeply dark tone shimmered in curiosity. But when the light hit them at just the perfect angle, the slightness in contrast between her black hair and navy blue eyes made all the difference. Her long slender fingers curled around her throat in anxious wariness as if I were a dangerous enemy and I watched her throat constrict while struggling to swallow underneath carefully manicured nails.

“Callea, this is Eden,” Kiran introduced us. He pulled me closer to him, his body pressing protectively against mine. “She can help Elio; otherwise I wouldn't have brought her.”

“I know who she is Your Highness, but I don't want her help,” Callea spat the words out angrily. I flinched from her hatred, from her narrowed eyes and obvious distrust.

“I promise that you do,” Kiran said levelly.

Kiran pressed his hand into my lower back and pushed me forward, leading me into an adjoining room bare except for a single bed that lay in the corner. An older man slept fitfully, tangled in sheets, sweating profusely and with a magical current I could feel tormented and dwindling.

I shuddered at his evident pain, his tortured magic choking the air, and his flailing arms terrifying reminders of what I felt suffering from the King's Curse. Full of compassion, I left Kiran's arms and rushed to the man's side. Hot tears stung against my eyelids as I tried to mask the knowing fear of how much pain he suffered with confident purpose.

I didn't wait for instructions. I couldn't. I needed to act, to relieve his pain even just a little bit. I quickly knelt at his side, and reached out for his stiff hand, tensed and outstretched from the pain. My stomach lurched as I listened to his staggered and gasping breath and smelled the acrid stench I didn't know whether to attribute to the disease or from a bed-ridden life.

“His name is Elio,” Kiran offered softly from the corner of the room where he stood with a comforting arm around Callea.

I nodded in acknowledgment and then released the blue smoke. The smoke rushed out of me, just waiting for my approval, and flew across Elio in quick, purposed movements. I gasped at the intensity of the healing process; somehow this felt different, more intense. I rescued others from the brink of death, Angelica, Rosalind, but this was different. The smoke thickened until Elio was completely wrapped and hidden in the dense healing air. And I felt more connected to it now than I had in the past. Often, the smoke would leave me, acting on its own accord and I would not even notice what was happening. While Elio choked on aggressive wisps of air and writhed in agony from his deadly disease, I felt the furtive movements and anxious determination; I was connected to this process, and I was an active participant.

Elio arched his back in desperate opposition to the smoke that held him tightly in its grasp. I winced in simultaneous pain, feeling the smoke absorb the sickness into itself. Elio let out a tortured cry of agony, gasping for breath, drowning in the thick folds of aggressive air.

“She's killing him!” Callea shouted, struggling against the tightened hold Kiran kept on her. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched her fight against Kiran, pounding him with her fists until she fell against his chest in hysterical sobs.

“There now,” I heard Kiran whisper in soothing tones, “Without her, he will die before the end of the hour. She can save him, Callea; she can heal him.”

The smoke continued to thicken, turning black with the heaviness of the illness. I sunk down next to the bed, feeling the weight of the King's Curse in the deadened smoke and acrid air. I began to think it was hopeless, a million excuses ringing through my ears, but then a clear, clean gasp of air, the sound of a full breath into healthy lungs snapped my head to attention. Elio's stiff hand relaxed into a firm but softened grasp around my hand and the dark, ugly smoke scattered away from him to the corners of the room where I hoped it would disappear in seconds.

Elio lay on his bed, his face ashen, but relaxed and expressive. His eyes were a dull gray, and his magic barely pulsing in his weakened bloodstream, but he was alive. He was healed.

“Diana?” he asked, in a raspy voice, shaken with the evidence of a man once at death's door.

I shook my head, looking down at our still clasped hands and wondered if he referred to my grandmother. “I'm Eden,” I explained, daring to meet his inquisitive eyes.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his lips turning up just a fraction into a smile. I shook my head again, moved by the gratitude in his small expression, knowing it was all he could give me in his current state.