Magna's Plea (The Fate Challenges) by Cherie Reich Page A

Magna’s chin. “Don’t forget who you are. You will remain in the palace because I command it.”
    Magna didn’t move, although the blood rushed through her ears. She pressed her lips into a thin line. A thousand objections filled her head, and she would burst from them. She’d been practicing magic and needed to fight alongside her brothers and father. Yet she held her tongue. Now was not the time to rehash this same argument with her mother or get herself into further trouble for dabbling in sorcery.
    A trumpet blast echoed throughout the throne room. “King-Consort Kheron, Prince Thoran, and Prince Moran.”
    Magna sat erect as her father and two brothers entered. Her heart threatened to stop beating while she searched for signs of blood splatter upon their clothing, but they must’ve changed before arriving. Her father’s sword with the phoenix emblem upon the golden hilt hung by his side and made Magna smile. Like a phoenix, Amora would rise above this destruction stronger than ever. Moran, her younger brother, grinned, his bright blue eyes shining with excitement. Her gaze fell upon her older brother, Thoran. Her breath caught in her throat.
    “What happened to your arm, Thoran?” She blurted the question without a thought to protocol.
    Thoran clutched his bandaged arm to his chest. “It’s just a scratch. Nothing to worry over.”
    “You should have sought out a healer, my son, before returning to the palace.” Mother motioned for her sons and consort to be seated.
    “We were heading to the Place of Lordéhi, Mother, but something came up.” Thoran glanced over to Father and Moran.
    Magna shifted. What was more important than Thoran’s injury?
    “Has Bella favored us today?” Mother asked Father.
    “My queen, the Apenthans are brutal, but the gods, including the War Goddess, will protect us.” A weary smile plastered upon Father’s lips, and he brushed his callused hand against Mother’s cheek. “And I think Bella is about ready to turn the tide in our favor.”
    Moran twitched in his seat like he had fleas. Considering the filth the siege had caused in their fair city, it was highly likely.
    “Moran, what is your excitement?” Vyvian clasped Kheron’s hand and entwined her fingers with his.
    “We’ve captured someone.” The thirteen-year-old flashed his most endearing smile.
    “And who might that be?”
    “He is the heir to the Apenthan throne.” Kheron motioned for the guards to enter.
    Two guards dragged their prisoner, a young man no more than eighteen or nineteen, between them. Chains jingled at his feet and hands. An inch-long gash sliced his forehead, and blood oozed from the wound and trickled down. Sweat plastered his wavy, dark hair. When he lifted his head, a bruise darkened the left side of his face. His amethyst eyes held a mixture of defiance and fear.
    The queen peered at the prisoner, as if he were a fly to squash. “Your name and station?”
    “Prince Cyrun, son of King Vespian of Apentha.”
    “Where was he found?” Mother asked.
    “In the Lordéhi River. Moran spied him first, and we fished him out,” Father said.
    “Were you alone?”
    The question hovered in the air. Magna nearly choked on her breath as she awaited his answer. No one had breached the walls, but the city was vulnerable on their riverside border. Guards patrolled the banks, but they weren’t as dependable as the city’s walls.
    “I’m the only o-one.” Cyrun’s lip trembled.
    “We searched and saw no others either.” Father backed Cyrun’s words.
    Magna relaxed in her chair. If Cyrun was the only one, then the Amorans might still be safe.
    “Summon a mephina.” Vyvian watched the prisoner with a heavy gaze.
    A guard bowed and sprinted to find one of the Royal messengers.
    “What to do with you? You’re quite the bargaining chip, don’t you agree?” Mother tapped her finger to her lips.
    The young man didn’t answer, although his eyes smoldered in silent rage.
    The humanlike