Then the skies had turned black and the winds had begun to change. He had barely made it back to the palace before a hell like he had never known descended upon the city. That was the first time he had helped his father with storm duty—because the winds were so strong, the storm so vast, that it battered the entire peninsula for days before the storm’s heart was near enough for his father to challenge. Every Stormling in the kingdom worked in shifts in an attempt to contain that storm. But still the flooding and winds brought significant death to the city.

That was when Cassius changed his idea of what it meant to conquer. Unlike his father, he stopped caring about land, about riches and status. Cassius Locke wanted to control that which would not be controlled. He wanted the kind of power he saw in that tempest, the kind that could pull the very ocean from where it rested. He wanted the ability to conquer death, or as close as he could come to it.

He hated to admit it to himself, but he wanted what the Stormlord had.

But for today, in this tavern, Cassius would settle for answers to a few of his questions from the tavern owner he had heard so much about. As he approached the bar, one of the sparkling waitresses intercepted him, bending courteously as much as her costume would allow. “Your Highness, may I escort you to a private table upstairs?”

Cassius lifted his chin, trying to peer at the upper level. It could be seen from downstairs, so the danger of an ambush was minimal. And he knew some of his commanders did business here, meetings with soldiers or informants and the like.

“Only if the owner will meet me for a drink.”

The girl’s smile stiffened, but she did her best not to let it show. “I am not sure the owner is in, but I can certainly find out for you, Your Highness.”

He pressed his lips into a stern line and said, “You do that.”