Free The Curse of the King by Peter Lerangis Page A

sculpted, and it leans against the marble block. By its side is the Loculus of Strength.
    It is this I want my father to see.
    The lines of his face deepen, his eyes hollow. I have been waiting for this moment. In my time since leaving Atlantis, I have marshaled my own powers.
    IMMOBILITUS.
    My father is rooted to the spot. He tries to move toward the Loculus but cannot. “I will not allow this,” he bellows. “I command you to return that to me!”
    â€œI am not your soldier,” I say.
    â€œYou are my son!” he replies.
    I must fight a desperate pang of guilt. Shall I show mercy? His words tug at my heart.
    But the deaths of thousands of Atlanteans tug harder.
    I have much work to do. Structures to build. And I will notbe stopped. Not by any army. Not by Uhla’ar.
    â€œYou wish for your hands to be around that Loculus, rather than Zeus’s?”
    â€œImmediately!” he thunders.
    â€œThen your wish, my father, shall be granted,” I say. “Now and forever.”
    I feel the power welling up from my toes, spreading through my body like an intruder. It hurts. It blinds. I raise my hand toward my father, and I feel a jolt as if a hundred knives course through my veins.
    Father’s mouth drops open. His feet leave the ground, and he floats.
    He is in midair now, screaming. I have never heard the king scream before. I know it is the last time I will ever see him.
    But I turn away. I have already mourned the loss of my father. The loss of my people. My family now is the future. The people of the world yet unborn.
    I walk away, forcing my ears to hear nothing.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN
A G OAT M OMENT
    M Y EYES FLICKERED open. I tried to hold on to the dream, but it was fading. I wanted to remember the details, to trap them in my brain, because they always seemed to mean something.
    Already, in early versions of the dream, I’d seen Atlantis destroyed and the Loculi stolen away. Back then, it was as if I’d been trapped in the body of Prince Karai. But in these latest dreams, I’d been Massarym.
    Somehow, being Massarym felt a whole lot worse.
    â€œHey,” Aly said softly. “Are you okay?”
    I sat up. The images were drifting away like smoke. I was on the ledge outside Routhouni. It was still dark. Middle of the night. Aly lay next to me on the ground, andCass was curled up into a fetal position behind us. I blinked myself deeper into reality.
    â€œI wanted to kill him . . .” I mumbled. “Not me. Massarym.”
    â€œYou wanted to kill Massarym?” Aly asked.
    â€œNo! I was Massarym,” I said. “In my dream. I wanted to kill my father. The king of Atlantis, Uhla’ar. It was the second time I dreamed about him. The first was back when you were getting sick. I was Massarym then, too. Back then, the king was mad at me for stealing the Loculi. I threw a fake Loculus over the cliff in Halicarnassus. To fool him. This time we were near the Statue of Zeus. But it wasn’t a statue yet.”
    The details were growing faint. Aly put an arm around my shoulder. “I have nightmares, too, but they’re not like that . Shhh, it’s okay.”
    â€œYeah. Just a dream.” Her arm felt warm, and I let my head touch her shoulder. In the distance, the lights of Routhouni flickered faintly. “Is it almost morning? We’re going to have to make our move.”
    I heard a dull thump from above us.
    Cass’s eyes flew open. He spun around, looking up the hillside. “Did you hear that?”
    Aly and I stood. “What kind of animals live on Greek mountains?” Aly asked.
    â€œGoats?” I said.
    My flashlight was still strapped to my head. I shone itupward just in time to see something small and sharp hurtling downward.
    Cass fell back, almost to the ledge. “ OWW! The goats are throwing rocks!”
    Another rock flew downward. And another. “I don’t think those are goats.”
    â€œLet’s