Rebel Spring (28 page)

Magnus tightened his grip, causing the boy’s face to turn red. Brion spat, and the saliva caught Magnus in the eye. He released the boy and wiped it away with disgust.

“I see.” His heart drummed fast and loud in his chest. “You’ve chosen the hard way. Fine. I’ll get my answers whether it’s now or whether it’s back in the dungeon on the rack. Perhaps it will give me the chance to capture Jonas if he attempts to save you.”

“He damn well better not even try.”

“Time will tell.” Magnus turned away, trying very hard to maintain his mask and not show how much his mounting frustrations weakened him.

“This piece of rebel scum will tell you nothing here or anywhere else,” Aron growled. He stood only a couple paces away, watching their exchange with a tight look on his pale face. “We don’t have time to take him back to the dungeon. We move on to the road tomorrow and we can’t spare any guards.”

“This is more important, Lord Aron.”

“I disagree, your highness. Rebels are best made an example of, not coddled and questioned.”

“Did it sound like I was coddling him?” Magnus gritted his teeth and glanced away.

“This is not how King Gaius would deal with this situation.”

The boy was so very annoying, Magnus could barely form words to respond. “Oh, no? And, pray tell, Lord Aron, how would the king deal with this situation?”

“Like this.” Aron had drawn out his sword and was holding it with both hands.

Magnus’s chest tightened in sudden alarm. “Aron, don’t—”

But he paid Magnus no attention. Without another word or another threat, and with his eyes glittering with excitement, Aron drove his sword through Brion’s heart.

Brion’s eyes went wide and he gasped, a sickly, bubbling sound. Blood spilled over his bottom lip as he collapsed to the ground and let out a last hiss of breath.

Magnus stared down at the dead boy with shock.

“The king personally executed a troublemaker at the Temple of Cleiona during the opening ceremonies of the Imperial Road. You must remember that as well as I do.” Aron wiped the bloody blade on a handkerchief he pulled from his pocket. “I know he wouldn’t want this one to be handled any differently by his kingsliege. I will tell your father that you were instrumental in this rebel’s immediate execution. I promise not to take full credit for it.”

Magnus grabbed Aron by the front of his shirt and shoved him backward into the fire. The boy let out a wheezing shriek and scrambled to get up, batting at the embers that had begun to set his clothes ablaze.

Magnus was incensed. “He was my chance to find Jonas, you drunken imbecile!”

Aron sputtered, his cheeks now flushed. “He would have told you nothing more than his name! Sparing his life only made you look weak in front of the other men. You should be thanking me!”

Magnus leaned closer so he could snarl into Aron’s ear. “Pray to your goddess that we find the rebel leader very soon, or my disappointment will be leveled upon you and you alone. Do you understand me, you little shit?”

Aron’s eyes narrowed into slits as Magnus released him—both fear and hate now playing within. “I understand, your highness.”

B
rion crumpled to the ground.

Jonas couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak, as he watched from the tree line, stunned. It was only a dream. It had to be. This was a nightmare he would wake from at any moment.

Then his vision turned red with hate, red with rage. He surged forward, ready to kill Aron with his bare hands—to tear him apart until he was a pile of bloody meat.

But before he could clear the protection of the thick trees, Lysandra threw her arms around him to stop him. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she grabbed hold of his face to force him to look at her rather than the sight of his fallen best friend.

“Jonas, no! It’s too late,” she whispered harshly to him. “Brion’s dead! If you go out there they’ll kill you too!”

It had been only moments. The boy he’d known since both nursed at their mothers’ breasts lay on the ground thirty paces away. Blood seeped from his chest wound to soak into the earth. Brion stared off toward the forest as if his unseeing eyes searched for Jonas.

It was like Tomas’s death all over again—someone he loved dearly had been ripped away from him without warning by Aron Lagaris.

“Let me go!” A raw cry of grief rose in his throat and again he tried to move away from Lysandra. A stinging slap drew his attention and he stared into her furious gaze.

“They will kill you if you go out there,” she growled.

“This is my fault.
Again
. It’s my fault. It was my decision for us to try to steal the guards’ weapons. When they saw us—” His voice broke and he threw his arms over his face as though by blocking out the forest they could block out what had happened. “Brion was protecting me so I could get away.”

“He was protecting both of us.” Tears poured down her face. “This is not your fault. We needed the weapons. We could never have predicted. . . .”

“I need to kill Aron Lagaris. I need to have vengeance.” He drew in a shaky breath, keeping his attention on Lysandra’s tear-streaked face. She hadn’t let go of him yet. She was an anchor for him—a weight. If she wasn’t here, he’d already be out there fighting. Bleeding. Dying. He’d expected hatred and fire from this girl for this. Instead, she pulled him into a tight embrace as they shared their grief.

“You will have vengeance,” she assured him. “As will I. But not here. Not now.”

Jonas thought he might retch. He kept seeing Brion crumpling to the ground. Lysandra was still talking. He clung to her words like a lifeline.

“We knew the prince would be coming in this direction—it was Brion’s idea to track their progress, Jonas. You can’t blame yourself! Look at me.” She grabbed his face again, forcing him to meet her tear-filled eyes. “Thanks to Nerissa we know where they’re going next—and why. Now is the time to act, once and for all. This is it, you must realize that. Don’t you?”

He tried to think. He tried to see past his rage and his grief.

A plan began to formulate—blurry at first, but steadily growing clearer and stronger.

This is it, Lysandra had said.

She was right.

Brion’s death would not be in vain—Jonas would not let it be. It would mark the moment Jonas could finally see with the clearest vision of his entire life.

The Blood Road was the key to the king’s downfall.

And it was time for the rebels to end this.

• • • 

By the time they returned to their band’s current campsite, night had closed in all around them, and the Wildlands were dark and filled with eerie noises that hinted at hungry things waiting to reach out and devour anyone who crossed their paths.

Jonas now felt like one of those beasts, like he could kill anything or anyone that got in his way.

“Now what do we do?” Tarus asked from the shadows, surrounded by the others. Lysandra had told them of Brion’s death. Tarus’s voice trembled. “They’re killing us off one by one.”

“All this time,” Jonas began, finding what strength he had left to speak loud enough for all to hear, “I’ve been searching for a way to cripple the king. To take back the power stolen from Paelsia from the moment the chief was murdered. I admit that at times I feared this task couldn’t be completed. After the disaster and defeat at the Temple of Cleiona I doubted. Doubted myself, doubted everything. For a moment, I allowed the King of Blood to defeat me.

“He has the numbers. He has the guards and soldiers. He has the weapons. And he has fooled the Auranians so much that the majority of them stand by like cattle foolishly waiting for slaughter. And now, from the reports I’ve received, the king has sequestered himself within the City of Gold, letting others fight his battles, untouchable and safe from any harm.”

“Then what good does any of this do us? How can we hurt him?” another boy demanded.

“We’ve been searching for a weakness,” Jonas said, “something that could hurt the king. Something we could use against him, to draw him out. Once, I believed that might be Princess Cleiona. That plan didn’t work out quite the way I’d hoped. It proved one thing to me—we need someone who holds greater importance to the king.”

“Who?” Tarus asked, his eyes wide.

“Tomorrow at dawn, Prince Magnus, Lord Aron, and a large group of guards are set to head for the Forbidden Mountains. We have information that they are to inspect the road camp there—a location we were not aware of until very recently.”

“Who told you about this?” Phineas asked.

“A reliable source,” Lysandra replied. She and Jonas shared a tense look. This was information they had received only days before, information that had led to them spying on the prince’s camp in the first place. Former seamstress Nerissa had taken on the mantel of rebel spy with great enthusiasm. Palace guards positioned close to the king enjoyed unburdening their souls after a hard day at work in the arms of a pretty and
very
friendly girl. Lysandra had not approved of Nerissa’s methods of obtaining information, but she couldn’t very well argue with her success—not when it had finally given them the key to what would be their ultimate victory.

“So we are to kidnap Prince Magnus,” a rebel guessed.

“Yes.” Jonas’s eyes narrowed. “But he’s not our only target. There is someone else at the camp who, we believe, means as much to the greedy king as his own blood. A man named Xanthus, who holds such a high level of secrecy, according to my source, that it intrigues me. He is the head engineer for the entire road and I have been assured that he is essential to the operation. He has the plans, he makes the decisions. Not one piece of stone is laid without his approval. Any new instructions or changes are sent directly from him, with an official seal, to the other camps.”

“How can one man have that much power?” Phineas asked.

“I don’t know, and frankly, I don’t care,” Jonas replied. His words sounded heedless but his plan was anything but. “All I know is without Xanthus in place, the road will cease construction. And the king is invested in this road, both with gold and with time. He wants it. It matters greatly to him. Taking both Xanthus and Prince Magnus and holding them hostage will net us what we want—the king himself. It will draw him out of his safe little golden palace and right into our grasp.”

“It’s simple.” Lysandra took over. “We will follow Prince Magnus and his group to the road. We will then wait until they rest, until they are lulled into a false sense of security, and we will attack just before dawn breaks. We will locate both Xanthus and the prince and take them both, killing anyone who gets in our way. This is it. This is our chance to finally make a difference and save our people from the king’s tyranny.”

“But we need every one of you to help us,” Jonas said. “
Everyone
.”

“It’ll still be a blood bath,” another rebel standing next to Phineas spoke up, uncertain. “You think we’re going to lay down our lives for this? Based on information from your ‘reliable source’?”

“Yes!” Lysandra spun to trap the rebel in her fiery gaze. “We
will
lay down our lives if that’s what it takes! I watched Brion die today and to the very end he was brave and strong. We owe it to him. I can only hope to be half as brave as he was. I’m willing to die if it means I can show the King of Blood that I am not now nor will I ever be one of his slaves!”

“We shall cut King Gaius where he’s sure to bleed buckets,” Jonas said firmly, “and we
will
have our victory. Come on. Who is with me? Who is with Lysandra?”

One by one, the gathered rebels stepped forward, voices growing ever louder in enthusiasm and strength.

“I am!”

“And I!”

“Yes! Enough weakness, we’ll show the King of Blood our strength once and for all!”

“Once and for all!”

M
agic burned beneath Lucia’s skin, begging to be released. It felt as trapped as she did in this strange palace with its brightly lit hallways and glittering, golden floors, different from the dark and cool Limerian castle in so many ways. She missed her real home more than she would ever have thought possible.

The bunny was not helping matters at all.

“You’ve grown so quickly, Hana.” She held up the bundle of soft fur to look into the rabbit’s sweet face. Its heart beat quickly against her touch and its nose twitched. This was one of the few things that could make her smile.

Finally, Lucia put Hana down into her small pen in the corner of her chambers and went to the balcony, her gaze moving out across the green fields and hills that surrounded the City of Gold beyond the glittering walls.

It was all so painfully beautiful. To punctuate this, a pink and purple butterfly flew by on a warm breeze.

“Ugh.” Lucia turned away. She didn’t care about butterflies. She cared about hawks and had searched the skies endlessly for a sighting of one, just one! But there was nothing.

It had been five long weeks since the last time she saw Alexius, when he promised he would see her again—when they’d kissed so passionately and she’d been torn from his arms by waking. If he was real, why hadn’t he come to her again? It wasn’t just a dream. It
wasn’t
.
She knew Alexius was out there somewhere.

She gripped the banister, and it warmed beneath her touch before beginning to crumble into dust from a surge of earth magic. She let go of it immediately and wiped off her hands, glancing around nervously to see if anyone had witnessed this, but of course there was no one. After learning of the fright she’d put into her
elementia
tutor, her father had strongly suggested she remain alone in her chambers until he sought the help of another.

And so she had. But after so many days trapped in such a small space, she needed to be free.

She was curious to know if the king had had Domitia executed since she had not fulfilled her purpose. It saddened Lucia that she didn’t care what the woman’s fate had been—life or death.

Once she would have cared.

The butterfly lit on the edge of a nearby flowerpot and she eyed it, fighting the sudden urge to squash its beauty in the palm of her hand.

“What’s happening to me?” she whispered.

She’d been cooped up in this room for far too long. Answers were what she needed more than anything. Books had always given her knowledge in the past. Why would now be any different? She’d heard that the Auranian palace library was second to none. Perhaps there, unlike the Limerian library, which contained only books of hard knowledge, she might find more answers about
elementia
. About the sorceress and the Watchers.

Her decision made, Lucia left her chambers and moved through the hallways, looking neither left nor right, except to ask a guard for directions to her destination. The library was on the other side of the palace and the hallways were virtually deserted, apart from the occasional guard who stood as still as a statue. Magnus had always prided himself in his ability to move through the castle unseen—like a shadow. It was a true talent, one she’d only started to appreciate.

She missed Magnus, she realized. She missed the days when they had talked for an entire afternoon about bards or books or nothing, how they laughed about some silly private joke, like the way Lady Sophia always slipped pastries into the pockets of her dress at palace dinners and thought no one noticed. She missed the way she could coax a smile from him even on his darkest days.

Was that now stolen from her forever?

It’s my fault. I should have been kinder to him in my thoughts and words.

He was angry with her now and hurt by her continual rejection of his love. Hopefully, when he returned at long last from the hunt, she could earn his forgiveness and make him see that though they could never be together, their filial relationship was more important than any other. She needed him and he needed her. There was no question that she had to put right between them what had gone so very wrong.

For now, Lucia forced these thoughts away and focused again on her goal. She wanted to take every book she could that might help her learn more about who she was and what she could expect from her magic. Take them and devour them, feeding herself with the knowledge like a feast laid out at a banquet.

When she reached her destination, her footsteps slowed at the sight of the enormous room beyond the archway. Her heart skipped a beat at the sight of books laid upon shelves that rose as high as small mountains. There had to be tens of thousands of books here, all shapes and sizes. All subjects. All offering knowledge beyond anything she’d ever dreamed of. Light from a multitude of stained glass windows shone down into this haven, casting a kaleidoscopic sparkle, as if the library itself were touched by magic.

“Well, Princess Lucia, you’ve strayed from your chambers. At long last, we get to meet.”

The voice broke the spell she’d fallen under, and her gaze moved to the girl standing before her with two books tucked beneath her arm. Lucia recognized her immediately. Her fair face, her aquamarine eyes, her pale, golden hair that fell in waves all the way down to her waist. She was shorter than Lucia by several inches, but despite her small stature she held herself tall, her shoulders back, her chin tilted upward. A curious smile played at her rosy lips.

This was the distraction the king wanted so Magnus would no longer focus his unwanted attention upon Lucia. Princess Cleiona was just as beautiful as she’d heard. And Lucia found that she hated her immediately.

She, however, pushed a smile onto her own lips to mirror the other princess. “Princess Cleiona, it’s a great honor.”

“Please, feel free to call me Cleo. After all, we’re sisters now, aren’t we?”

Lucia tried not to cringe at the reminder. “Then you’re most welcome to call me Lucia.” She shook her head, still awed by her surroundings. “I can’t tell you how incredible this library is. You’ve been so lucky to have this all your life.”

Cleo’s eyes did not hold quite as much amazement as Lucia’s did. “I must confess, I never came here as much as my sister did. She loved it. She always had a book to read. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’d already worked her way through half of these by the time she . . .” Her words trailed off, and her cheeks were tight as she brought her pained gaze back to Lucia’s.

Lucia’s distaste faded somewhat in sympathy for this girl who’d lost so much. Her sister, her father, her kingdom. All taken by an enemy force, which included Lucia herself. And now, this library belonged more to her than it did to Cleo.

“Your sister sounds much like me, then,” Lucia said gently. “I love to read.”

“Then you’ll fit in very well here.”

“I’m glad to get the chance to talk to you.” The other princess, despite her new status as Magnus’s wife, was watched carefully and kept in a different wing of the castle. Her prison might be a gilded one, but it was no less secure. And yet, here she was today, roaming about unescorted, with no guard to be seen. Had this enemy to her father’s throne managed to ease herself into King Gaius’s good graces after the successful wedding tour?

“And I’m very glad that you’re feeling better. Everyone was terribly worried about you, not understanding why you remained asleep for so long.” Cleo looked at Lucia curiously, as if expecting a reason to freely be given.

“It was the strangest thing.” Lucia shook her head, back on her guard. “And I’m afraid it may always remain a mystery.”

“There was a rumor that you might have been cursed by a witch. That you were under a magic spell.”

Lucia frowned deliberately, as if this sounded ludicrous to her. “Magic? Do you believe in such silly things?”

Cleo’s smile stretched thinner. “Of course not. But servants like to talk, you know. Especially when it’s about royalty. They love to make up all sorts of interesting tales.”

“They certainly do. But no, I was under no magical spell, I assure you.” The lie felt so natural it took no effort at all to deliver.

“I’m very glad to hear that.” Cleo shifted her books in her arms.

“What are you reading?” Lucia asked, cocking her head so she could make out the gilded titles stamped onto the leather spines. “
A History of Elementia
. My goodness. That sounds like a strange choice of book for one who doesn’t believe in magic.”

“Yes, doesn’t it?” Cleo’s knuckles whitened on the edge of the large book. “It was one of my sister’s favorites. Reading such things makes me feel that her spirit is close, guiding me.”

This conversation was far more work than Lucia expected it to be. There was a time, back before the battle that had put this kingdom in her father’s hands, that Lucia had imagined their meeting, hoping that they might become close friends. She’d begun to doubt that possibility now. She strained to read the title of the second, smaller book, which was covered in dust, as though Cleo had unearthed it from a long-forgotten stack, and her heart began to pound harder. “
Song of the Sorceress
. What is that about?”

Cleo glanced down at it. “Poetry about a powerful sorceress who lived at the time of the goddesses. Her name was—well,
your
middle name . . . Eva. Quite a coincidence, isn’t it?”

Lucia’s throat tightened. “Yes, quite.”

This
was a book she needed.

“I should probably leave you to your own book search. I’d say you have permission to borrow whatever you like, but I don’t suppose you need it, do you?”

There was just a drop of acid contained within those words. Lucia was pleased by it; pleased to know that the girl was not all she appeared—a polite and perfectly poised princess. She wore masks, the same kind that Lucia and Magnus did. Was it possible to be a member of a royal family and not have such a tool at the ready? Thinking this, Lucia felt her heart soften toward the other girl once again.

“I know this is all difficult for you,” Lucia said, touching Cleo’s arm as she moved past her. “I understand.”

“Do you?” Cleo smiled, but her eyes were cold. “How nice to know of your empathy for my situation.”

“If you need to talk, please know that I’m here for you.”

“As I am for you.”

Something caught Lucia’s eye then and she looked down at Cleo’s hand.

“Your ring.” She frowned. “Is it . . . glowing?”

Cleo took a step back, her face growing pale. She glanced down at her ring, a delicate golden filigree with a large purple stone she wore on the index finger of her right hand. She adjusted the books so her hand was now shielded. “A trick of the light, I’m sure. Nothing more.”

How strange. “Well, in any case, I hope to see much more of you from now on.”

“Yes. I feel the same way. Since we’re now
sisters
.”

Was it only her imagination too that the word was delivered as sharp as a dagger?

“Do you know when Magnus will be back?” Lucia asked.

“Didn’t he tell you?”

“No.”

“I was under the impression that your brother shared everything with you.”

Lucia pressed her lips together, choosing not to answer. There was a time when this would have been true. Lately, however . . .

The thought that she’d lost her brother’s confidence suddenly pained her, an ache she felt deep in her heart.

“To answer your question,” Cleo said, “I don’t know when he will be back. I can only hope it will be soon.”

“Do you miss him?”

Cleo’s smile held. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Lucia regarded the girl for a moment before she spoke again. “Who would have thought that two people so very different would find love in the midst of this landscape of conflict.”

Cleo’s gaze was continually moving, over Lucia, over their surroundings. She was alert, this princess. And Lucia sensed there was much more behind those innocent-looking eyes than anyone might believe.

“Who indeed? You’re very lucky to have grown up with an older brother like Magnus.”

“Yes. Just as you’re lucky to get the chance to spend the rest of your life by his side.”

“Indeed.”

Lucia watched her carefully, searching for any sign of deception. Was this true? Was Cleo actually happily in love with Magnus and he with her?

Impossible.

“He can be difficult,” Lucia warned. “Moody. Temperamental. Argumentative.”

“Who isn’t, at times?”

“He’s very forgiving, though.” Lucia arched a brow. “After all, he forgave you your unfortunate and shameful loss of chastity to Lord Aron Lagaris, didn’t he?”

Cleo blinked, the only sign that her words had come as an unexpected slap. Lucia took a measure of joy from that but knew it was petty.

During Magnus’s wedding tour absence, the king had filled Lucia in on many interesting facts. Everything she missed while she’d been asleep.

The princess’s lips thinned. “As you said, I’m very lucky.”

“I’m sorry for stating this so bluntly, but as you know, servants talk.” No reason to let Cleo know the king had said anything. Servants were always easiest to blame for everything.

“Yes.” A fresh smile now snaked slowly across Cleo’s face. “I’ve heard things too. About you.”

“Oh? Such as?”

“I’m sure it’s a lie. Unlike some people, I prefer to make my own judgments, not have my head so easily filled with the gossip of servants.”

Lucia bristled at the sly insult. “What have you heard?”

Cleo moved closer as if ready to speak in quiet confidence. “I heard that you and Magnus had an unsavory relationship before coming here to Auranos. That you’re in love with your own brother.”

Lucia’s mouth fell open. “That’s not true!”

“Of course not. As I said, I make my own judgments. But, despite the distasteful and unnatural leanings of such an attraction on your part, I would understand it. Magnus is very handsome. Don’t you think?” A mocking smile curved the edge of the girl’s mouth, as if she knew she was getting under Lucia’s skin and pushing the boundaries of her patience.