“You confuse yourself with someone who still has great power here, princess.”
“And you confuse yourself with someone who has any.”
“Working knee deep in horse shit is his punishment. Although, if you ask me, he should be dead for what he did to Prince Magnus.”
The memory tore through her mind before she could try to stop it. Theon’s broken body, his eyes staring upward, unseeing. Magnus with blood on his face from where she’d clawed him as he tried to wrench her to her feet. Nic, throwing a rock to stop him, which met its mark. Cleo had taken a heavy sword and very nearly plunged it into the prince’s chest while he was disoriented, but Nic feared the ultimate repercussions of such an act and stopped her. He’d knocked Magnus out cold so he couldn’t follow them.
I’m so sorry, Theon. I’m so . . . so sorry. I led you to your death, and then couldn’t avenge you.
Her eyes burned, but she didn’t cry. She needed Theon’s memory, the recollection of his strength, his confident belief in her, to aid her now. Tears wouldn’t help. Commands wouldn’t help. Aron was right, she had no power here anymore. No influence.
However . . .
She turned toward Aron—this time with a smile.
“Come on, Aron,” she almost purred. “You were once our friend—our good friend. Can’t you find that within yourself again? Not everything has changed, has it? Mira thought her brother was dead. Don’t keep them apart. Please.”
Aron might have expected rage from her but clearly didn’t know what to do with cordiality. He hesitated for a moment, nonplussed, before he finally nodded at the guard who held Mira. The guard released her and Mira ran directly into Nic’s arms.
“We couldn’t find you anywhere,” she said, choked. “I was so worried about you!”
“Oh, Mira.” Nic gripped his sister tightly, snorting softly into her long hair. “Honestly? I was worried about me too.”
She pulled back from him a little and scrunched her nose. “You stink!”
He laughed out loud at that and ran a hand through his messy and matted red hair. “Glad to see you too, dear sister.”
This time, the smile Cleo gave Aron was sincere. “Thank you.”
He watched the siblings with a sour look. “Remember this favor, Cleo. You owe me one.”
She fought to hold on to her pleasant expression. “Of course, Lord Aron.”
Aron smiled, pleased, at this.
It was good to know she could easily handle this fool when necessary.
• • •
The guards accompanied Cleo back to her chambers and closed the door behind her. She knew one would remain stationed outside until morning in case she even thought of escaping. There had been times she’d scaled the ivy outside her sister’s balcony to leave the castle, but in her own chambers, it was a sheer drop from her window to the ground thirty feet below.
The king might acknowledge her as a “guest of honor” publicly, but at this very moment she felt every bit a prisoner of war. She supposed she should consider herself lucky her own chambers had been returned to her. For days after the battle, they had been given to Lucia until other accommodations for the ailing Limerian princess had been found.
Seeing Nic and Mira reunited, though, had given Cleo a twinge of hope that things could change. She held tight to the knowledge that she’d been right, that Nic still lived. He could use a very long bath, but he was alive.
If she allowed herself to admit it, it did surprise her that Magnus had not demanded his head. Did he really think toiling in the stables was the best punishment?
“He’s still horrible,” she whispered. “But Nic still breathes. I must be grateful for that much.”
Her chambers were dark. Her attention slid over to the stone wall by her vanity table, to the very location where she’d hidden the amethyst ring. Her hands itched to take it out and put it on her finger. To feel the coolness of the gold against her skin, the weight of the stone. To have something tangible that might be able to help her. Something tied to her family. To history. To elementia itself.
She would return to her search for information tomorrow. There had to be something in the library that would tell her about the ring, help her learn how to properly use it. Emilia had always spent hours upon hours in the library, reading both for pleasure and for knowledge. And Cleo had always avoided such things. Until now. She had hope that somewhere in one of the thousands upon thousands of books that lined the library’s shelves lay the answers she sought.
She wrapped her arms around herself and moved to the window to look down on the moonlit courtyard far below. A warm breeze brushed against her skin.
It was then that she sensed the presence of someone else in her room.
Cleo spun around, searching the shadows. “Who’s there? Show yourself!”
“Did you have a nice evening, your highness?” His deep voice slid across the room, wrapping itself around her and holding her prone with instant, remembered fear.
She ran for the door, but he caught her before she got there, grabbing hold of her arms and pressing her up against the wall.
“I’ll scream,” she warned him.
“Screaming would be the wrong move.” He pressed one hand against her mouth and with his other hand trapped both her wrists so she couldn’t move.
Jonas Agallon smelled like the forest itself, of evergreen needles and warm earth.
She attempted to drive her knee up between his legs, but he avoided this attack effortlessly.
“Come now, princess. It doesn’t have to be like this. I only came here for a chat . . . unless you cause me problems.” The surface of his words was friendly, but the malevolence behind them was unmistakable. “I’m going to remove my hand now. If you speak in a voice louder than a whisper I promise you’ll regret it. Understand?”
She nodded once, willing herself to remain calm.
He pulled his hand away but otherwise didn’t loosen his hold on her.
“What do you want?” She kept her voice low and controlled. For now.
“I just stopped by to see how you’re doing.”
She couldn’t help but laugh drily at this. “Really.”
Jonas’s face was in shadows, his eyes dark as he scanned the length of her. “Last time I saw you, you were cloaked and armed with a dagger.”
“Yes, and that was right before you alerted Prince Magnus to my presence in the crowd.”
He raised an eyebrow. “I did no such thing.”
“And I should believe you? You worked with him before. With the king himself! You kidnapped me, leaving me with no food or water for a week, waiting to hand me over to my enemy.”
“It was three days, princess. And you were given food and water. Anyway, my dealings with the King of Blood and his ilk came to an end when he deceived my people.”
“Anyone with half a brain could have seen he was deceptive from the very beginning.”
He glared at her. “Easy to say that now.”
She’d touched a nerve. Perhaps he did feel like a fool for helping King Gaius. “Let go of me.”
“I don’t trust you. You’ll try to scamper off and alert the guards.”
Fueled by her success earlier with manipulating Aron, she decided to try the same with Jonas. Anger or demands wouldn’t work, that much was certain. She looked up into his dark eyes and worked some pain into her own. “You’re hurting me.”
Jonas laughed, low and throaty. “Speaking of deceptive . . . trust me, princess, I don’t underestimate you either.”
Her gaze frantically skimmed her familiar room, searching for anything that might help her. “What am I to think with you here? There was a time you wanted to kill me.”
“Believe me, if I were here to end your life, you’d already be dead. I wanted to see for myself how much you’ve been taken in by them n
ow that you’re betrothed to the prince. I witnessed the announcement. Despite the rough beginning, it looks like you’ve been accepted into the king’s family with open arms. How nice for you.”
Nausea coursed through her gut that he’d think this; that anyone would think this. “You think I’d welcome the inclusion to such an evil family?”
“I don’t know.” He studied her carefully. “Maybe.”
He believed her allied with the vipers themselves. The thought was so foreign that she couldn’t wrap her head around it. Venom coated her next words. “I shouldn’t have to defend myself to someone like you. What do I care what you think?”
Jonas pressed her harder up against the wall, making her gasp. “I know you think I’m nothing more than a Paelsian savage.”
She refused to look away from him. “Are you denying it?”
“I’m no savage, your highness. I’m a rebel.” He said it as if he was proud of it. Like it should impress her.
“If that’s true, then it’s only a matter of time before your head finds its way onto a spike, just like those of your rebel friends.”
He flinched at the mention of the executions. “Perhaps. But at least I’m attempting to change things.”
“By sneaking into my chambers and trying to bully me? I think I have my share of bullies in this palace to deal with already. I’ll say it one more time: let go of me.”
Finally, he did as she asked and stepped back. He watched her warily, as if he expected she’d immediately flee to the door and call for the guard. Part of her was tempted to do just that.
Instead, she watched him back just as warily. She couldn’t deny that in looks alone, Jonas Agallon was very attractive. Black hair, dark eyes, deeply tanned skin from working outdoors like most Paelsians. A tall, muscular body with broad shoulders and narrow hips. Beneath the dark gray cloak he wore, his clothes were dusty, torn, and simple, but he held himself like no peasant she’d ever seen before.
There was an arrogance to this boy that was similar to that of Prince Magnus—despite their vastly different upbringings. Jonas’s eyes weren’t as cold and serpentine as the prince’s, but they were still sharp and dangerous. They looked as if they could pierce right through her and pin her to the wall as easily as he’d done with his body.
There was a time not so long ago that he’d looked at her as if she was a hateful, spoiled creature who needed to die. Now there was a great deal of suspicion in his gaze, but also an edge of interest, as if he was curious about her plans now that she was betrothed to the son of her greatest enemy.
“Are you aligned with King Gaius?” Jonas asked again, his words harsh.
He was the rudest person she’d ever met. Ruder, possibly, than Prince Magnus himself. “How dare you enter my private chambers and demand answers like this? I’ll tell you nothing.”
His hands fisted at his sides and his glare intensified. “Princess, you could make this easier for me.”
“Oh, yes, that’s exactly what I want to do. Because you’ve always been such a good friend to me.”
Her sardonic tone coaxed the barest edge of a smile to his lips. “I could be a good friend.”
She went completely silent for a moment. “How?”
“That depends entirely on you, your highness.”
Jonas used the title as an insult, with no respect implied whatsoever, just as he had when he’d taken her captive in Paelsia. This much had not changed. “Talk quickly, or soon you’ll be trapped in the palace with no chance for escape. The guards will begin patrolling the courtyard very soon now that night has fallen.”
Jonas swept his gaze through the small room, coming to rest on the canopied bed. “Then I would have to stay here for the night, wouldn’t I? Would you help to hide me away under your covers?”
She ignored the heat that touched her cheeks at the suggestion. “Continue speaking nonsense and your time continues to drain away. Talk. Now.”
“Always issuing orders. Is that what a princess who’s lost her kingdom still does—or the future bride of Prince Magnus? Does it make you feel powerful to boss me around?”
“Enough of this.” She turned toward the door and opened her mouth as if to shout.
Jonas was behind her in an instant, his hand coming over her mouth, his arm across her chest to pull her tightly back against his body. “Summon the guards and I’ll tell them I’m your secret lover. What would Prince Magnus think about that? Would he be jealous?”
She bit his hand hard enough to taste blood. He pulled away from her, his eyes wide with pain even as a grin curled up the corner of his mouth.
Cleo wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “You need to know one thing. I don’t care what Prince Magnus thinks, nor will I ever. I hate him and I hate his father. No matter what happens to me, that much will never change.”
“You want to destroy them.”
It wasn’t a question. Cleo just stared at him, unblinking. Unspeaking. Admitting anything at all to this boy felt far too dangerous.
But he didn’t seem to need any confirmation. He nodded once. “I told you that day in the crowd to be ready. It’s time, princess. I need your help.”
The thought was absurd. “You need my help?”
“The rebels need information about the Damoras. Their plans, their schemes. And this road—the one the king announced during his speech. Did you know he’s butchering entire villages and enslaving Paelsians to help him build it as quickly as possible? It means something to him, this road. Something important. Something beyond what anyone else believes it to mean.”
Butchering villages? She felt the blood drain from her face. “What?”
“That’s what I want you to find out. I want you to be my spy.”
For a moment, she couldn’t seem to form words. “What you’re asking could get me killed.”
“The very act of breathing could get you killed. Same for anyone else. You might be trapped here, but you’ve been given great privilege. The king underestimates how deep your hatred for him flows. He doesn’t know what you’re capable of.”
Cleo did fully mean to destroy the king and everyone who had aligned with him in order to reclaim her throne. She would not stand by and see her people—or any people from any land, for that matter—abused and enslaved by this man.
But could she be a spy for Jonas? Could she net him the information he was looking for to help the rebel cause?
Perhaps she could.
She would have to give this more thought. And she could not think with the rebel here in her presence.
“I need to consider my options,” she said quietly. Not that she had many to consider.
Jonas cocked his head as if he hadn’t heard her correctly. “Princess, you need to—”
“I need to do nothing, not when it’s something that involves you. You thought to barge into my chambers, wait for me in the dark, and expect me to be drooling at the very idea of working together to defeat the king? You may underestimate me, but you vastly overestimate yourself.” She didn’t want to say no to him, but she couldn’t say yes, either. Not yet. “I don’t trust you. I will never trust you, Jonas Agallon.”
His mouth dropped open. “Are you denying me?”
His reaction was nearly comical. “I will assume this is not something you normally deal with when you ask a favor from a girl.”
He frowned. “Actually . . . it’s not.”
She heard a rustle outside her door. Any moment it could swing inward and a guard might enter and capture Jonas. “You must leave.”
Her breath caught as he grasped her chin and drew her closer. “You will help me when you realize it’s the only way you will ever have a chance to be queen.”
“I will be queen, no matter what I must do to achieve it. I am betrothed to a prince, remember? One who will one day take the throne.”
He actually laughed at this, a sound that held no humor. “You can’t honestly believe King Gaius will ever let that happen. Open your eyes, princess. Your wedding is only another distraction to try to keep his new citizens satisfied and looking in directions other than where the king’s true greed lies; and so no one realizes how thin his army is now spread policing all of Mytica. Beyond that, you’re a liability to the crown, to the king’s power and the prince’s claim to the throne. You have great value to them, perhaps, but it will be short-lived, as you too will be if you choose to remain here.”
She’d already thought of this herself, but it was shocking to hear it put into cold, hard words. Once she’d become worthless to the king as a figurehead to the Auranian people, there was no doubt in her mind that he’d quietly have her killed and disposed of. She remained silent.
“I’ll be in touch again, soon, your highness, once you’ve had more time to consider what I’ve said.”
Jonas released her and turned to her window. The warmth of his touch lingered for the briefest of moments as she watched him slide out the window and scale the wall as if he were a cliff-dwelling creature like those rumored to live in the Forbidden Mountains. He effortlessly dropped the last ten feet to the ground and within moments disappeared into the shadows.
CHAPTER 7
MAGNUS
AURANOS
Another day. Another speech.
Magnus attempted to ignore the incessant heat in this green and sunny kingdom that coaxed a trickle of perspiration to slide down his spine beneath his dark clothing. A glance at the line of palace guards showed varying levels of discomfort on every face. Their thick red uniforms were meant for cold Limerian days. Even the queen’s brow shone under the bright glare of the hot day.
“Today we officially break ground here at the starting point of the Imperial Road.” King Gaius addressed the crowd of a few hundred who’d gathered at the Temple of Cleiona, a three-hour carriage ride from the palace. “It’s my pleasure to share this moment with you all.”
The king nodded toward Magnus, who took his cue and bit into the ground with the sharp edge of the shovel handed to him. The crowd cheered, and he swept his gaze over those closest to the front.
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