Rebel Spring

by Morgan Rhodes

  But before he was crushed, Magnus launched himself toward the king and knocked him out of the way. The heavy pillar crashed, shattering into hundreds of pieces on the still shaking ground.

  Prince Ashur rose to his feet, his voice booming. “Everyone, out of the temple. Now.”

  The hundreds of wedding guests tried desperately to flee the violent and bloody battleground, running for the exits as fast as they could. Several were crushed by more pillars falling in their path.

  The world was ending right before Cleo’s eyes.

  An arm came around her waist, pulling her back behind the altar as the violent quake finally eased and the world stopped shaking.

  “Do you know you almost got killed?” Nic snapped.

  “Nic!” She grabbed him into a tight hug. “Thank the goddess you’re all right!”

  “All right? I’d say we’re as far from all right as we can get.”

  Cleo crawled to the side of the stone altar to look at the destruction before her. Jonas lay dead on the floor of the temple.

  No, please no. It cannot be!

  No, wait. Two guards rushed past his still body. When they had moved out of view, though, Jonas began to stir. Cleo watched him come back to consciousness and push himself up to a sitting, then a standing, position, a hand clamped over his wounded side where he had been injured by a blade. His face, too, was bloody. His gaze went from unfocused to grim and moved through the temple, over his fallen rebels, until he finally locked eyes with Cleo.

  He held his hand out to her, as if beckoning her to join him. To flee with him while there was still time to escape unseen with the rest of the guests.

  She shook her head.

  They couldn’t both escape this, not with him injured and her in this weighted gown. She had to stay—for Nic. For Auranos.

  But he could still save himself. And if he wanted half a chance at that, he had to leave now while he was out of sight of the guards. Go! she mouthed. Go now!

  He hesitated only another moment before he shed his red robes, turned, and fled the temple, joining the cluster of the escaping guests as they emerged into full daylight.

  “Cleo,” Nic whispered, clenching her hand so tightly it hurt. “This is bad. So bad.”

  Truer words had never been spoken.

  The rebels had lost. And, oh, how they’d lost.

  Every one of them apart from Jonas now lay dead on the broken, crumbling floor of the temple. The guards, who’d been dressed in regular clothes to blend in with the rest of the guests, were beginning to stalk around to make sure the dead rebels were dead, thrusting sword or spear through the still bodies to make sure they’d never move again. There was so much blood spread throughout the temple.

  So many had died in so little time.

  Nic offered her a hand and helped her to her feet. A gory splash of blood now defiled her beautiful gown. Nic looked at it with alarm before he began checking her.

  “It’s not mine,” she said, her voice brittle.

  “Thank the goddess!”

  “My fault, Nic. This is . . . it’s all my fault.”

  “What are you talking about? No, it’s not.” He grasped her arms. “You had nothing to do with this.”

  He hadn’t known of the plan because she hadn’t told him. The one person she trusted more than anyone—and she hadn’t told him a thing. If he’d died today as well, she could never have forgiven herself.

  Scattered bodies lay in crimson puddles across the pale marble floor. Glazed eyes stared off in every direction, some directly at Cleo as if blaming her for their deaths.

  Magnus leaned against a pillar and gingerly touched the shallow wound at his throat. He looked exhausted, but his gaze sparked with outrage. His attention finally fell on her. She looked away before she was forced to meet his eyes.

  The king approached. There was a gash on his forehead. Blood dripped into his eyes and he wiped it away with the back of his hand.

  He’d almost died—she’d seen it herself. He’d nearly been crushed by a pillar, but his son had saved him. And now all he had to show for his brush with death was a bit of blood.

  “Did you know this would happen?” Magnus asked.

  Cleo’s stomach clenched and her fingers dug into Nic’s arm as if to borrow some of her friend’s strength. As she opened her mouth to deny any prior knowledge of the rebel attack, the king answered instead.

  “I thought there was a strong chance of it, but I wasn’t sure.”

  “But you took precautions.”

  “Of course I did. I’m no fool.”

  “And yet you said nothing to me.” The words were edged in poison. “This is not the first time you didn’t tell me anything of your plans, Father.”

  “I didn’t want to spoil the day any more than it needed to be.” The king’s gaze slid to Cleo’s. “It’s very distressing.” He gestured at the death and carnage before them. She couldn’t look away from the steady drip of blood down the king’s forehead. “You are, after all, only a sixteen-year-old girl, accustomed to a much more privileged and protected life. This must all be quite a shock.”

  “It is,” she whispered. “The attack. The—the earthquake. I believe it’s a sign from the goddess. The wedding will have to be postponed. It’s really such a shame.”

  When the back of his hand struck her cheek, she reacted more from shock than from the stinging pain. Her hand flew to her face and she stared at him with wide eyes.

  “You think I’m going to make it that easy for you, you deceitful brat?” He grabbed hold of the front of her dress and yanked her closer. He flicked a look at Nic, who’d lurched forward to protect Cleo. “I warn you, boy, do not look at me that way if you want to keep your eyes. I will gore them from your head and serve them to Princess Cleiona as part of her wedding feast.”

  “But—but how can we continue?” Cleo stammered. “All this blood! All these bodies! The temple is in shambles, the roof will collapse at any moment. We must leave! The wedding can’t—”

  He slapped her again, harder this time, and she bit her lip in pain. “They underestimated me, those rebels. They have no idea how much I consider every move I make. They thought they could walk in here so easily and kill me. No one can kill me.” Still, he eyed the fallen pillar uneasily before turning a furious glare on Cleo. He grasped her throat so tightly with one hand that she began to choke. She clawed at his arm but he just tightened his grip until she stopped fighting. Spots swam in her vision.

  “Father, stop it,” Magnus said.

  “Be quiet, boy. I need to make the princess aware of a couple of important things.” His cold gaze sank into her like death itself, drawing her deeper into darkness. “If you ever underestimate my desire to hold on to this throne, my dear, you will deeply regret it. Consider today only a small demonstration of this.”

  She tried to speak, but his strangling grip only tightened like a vise.

  Cronus had drawn closer, his sword drawn and pointed toward Nic to keep him back.

  Magnus paced angrily in a circle. “Father, this isn’t necessary. You’re killing her.”

  “I told you to be quiet. Don’t make me say it again.” A sinister smile then curled up the side of the king’s mouth as he gazed down at her. “Do you know what everyone will say about today? They’ll say that a beautiful wedding was disrupted by heartless rebels. That they wanted to keep you from exchanging your vows with my son. That they failed and we succeeded. That true love conquers all, no matter what the opposition might bring—even the shaking of the world itself. The people will find comfort in such stories in the difficult months and years ahead. Do you think I would marry off my son to an admitted slut like you for any other reason? They’ll devour such a story and ask for more. They will come out in droves to see you on your journey across my kingdom. They will worship you and Magnus like a god and a goddess b
ecause they are stupid and naive. And this is exactly what I want. For the more they focus on you, the less they’ll focus on what I’m doing and why I’m doing it.”

  He finally released her and she gasped for breath, hands flying to her bruised throat. Nic stood nearby, his fists clenched at his sides, his body shaking. Had he made a threatening move toward the king, Cleo knew he would have died. Just as Jonas’s friends and rebels had died today.

  There was no hope in death, only an end.

  The king shoved Cleo closer to Magnus.

  “Continue,” he snapped.

  The priest was there, a streak of blood on his cheek to match his red robes.

  “Hands—” His voice shook. “Take her hand.”

  Magnus grabbed hold of Cleo’s hand. She looked up at him, but he didn’t meet her gaze. His eyes were straight forward, his jaw tense.

  “Repeat after me,” the priest said after a moment. “I, Cleiona Aurora Bellos, do pledge to take Magnus Lukas Damora as my husband and future king. A bond that will begin this day and go forth unto eternity.”

  Her throat felt crushed, her face stung, her cheeks were wet with tears. Everywhere she looked she saw blood and death and despair.

  “Say it.” The king’s voice was low and dangerous. “Or you will watch me cut your friend into small pieces. First, I’ll remove his toes, then his feet. Then his fingers and hands. I will feed him piece by piece to my dogs while he screams for a mercy that will never come. My dogs do so love fresh meat.” His eyes flashed with fury. “Say it.”

  “I, Cleiona Aurora Bellos,” she choked out, “do pledge to take Magnus Lukas Damora as my husband and future king. A bond that will begin this day and go forth unto eternity.”

  The priest anointed her forehead with the fragrant oil. Even though he was from Limeros, she was certain she now saw pity in his eyes. “And so it is, and so it shall be, from this day forward until death and beyond. You are wed. You are husband and wife. It is done.”

  It is done.

  CHAPTER 21

  ALEXIUS

  THE SANCTUARY

  Melenia looked up as Alexius entered her chambers in the crystal palace. It was a room filled with light and flowers. A floor-to-ceiling crystal window looked out to the expansive city far below, where other immortals made their home.

  The window bore a jagged crack down the center. The massive tremor in the mortal world had been clearly felt here as well. Many immortals, in fact, had panicked, believing this to be the end.

  But Alexius knew differently.

  He’d already been on his way to see Melenia when it happened. His steps were focused, his mind clear. There were matters that needed to be discussed, and they couldn’t wait another day.

  As she stood from the seating area, her diaphanous robes swished around her curves. Her eyes were blue—a vivid sapphire shade that no one could ever mistake as mortal.

  “I’m glad you’re here,” she said before he had uttered a single word. He was struck by her beauty, as he always was. She held her hands out to him as he drew closer. “You can celebrate with me another sign of our success. We’re close now. So close I can taste it.”

  “And what does it taste like?”

  “Like sweet victory. At long last.” Her smile fell as she saw he did not look pleased by this. She reached up to press her cool hands against his warm cheeks. This woman seemed so small and fragile before him, but he knew she was anything but. He’d never known anyone stronger in his entire existence. For so long, he had admired that strength. “What is wrong? You look so troubled.”

  “I am troubled. The princess awoke from her deep slumber earlier.”

  “I see. And now it will be more difficult for you to access her dreams.”

  “That’s not it.”

  She watched him carefully. “Then what is it? Unburden yourself to me, Alexius. You know you can trust me. We share all of our secrets, don’t we?”

  So many secrets, he’d lost count of them all. “Two disasters in the mortal world. The tornado and the earthquake. It’s unfolding exactly as you said it would.”

  “Yes.”

  Melenia was a very special immortal, different from the others. More powerful in so many ways. She could see many things the others couldn’t—that which happened here in the Sanctuary and beyond into the mortal world. Her sight was clear and focused and always had been.

  “And you continue to visit the king’s dreams?” he asked.

  There was a pause this time before she spoke. “Not recently. He already knows what I need him to do.”

  It was another of Melenia’s many secrets. Elders did not possess the ability to enter the dreams of mortals. Such a task was never easy and was always draining of one’s magic and physical strength. But for an elder, it was impossible.

  Except for Melenia.

  “It won’t be long before my road is finished,” she said. There was joy in her voice.

  Yes, her road. A road that had to be swiftly built by mortal hands. A road that needed to pass certain locations along its twisting path.

  And, of course, since it wasn’t only a road, one mustn’t forget that there needed to be a great deal of blood spilled on it.

  Blood—everything depended on blood. It was elemental. It was magic. Even when it flowed from the veins of mortals.

  And when the road was finally completed . . .

  “I need to know if there’s another way,” Alexius said, the words thick in his throat.

  Melenia’s brows drew together. “Another way?”

  He raised his gaze to meet hers, trying to shield the ache in his chest beneath his golden, swirling mark. Other immortals didn’t know of Melenia’s plans, but he did. He’d agreed to them when originally enlisted to her cause. He’d been certain he could stay the course.

  Now he doubted himself.

  Understanding entered her blue eyes. “I wanted you to make contact with her. To speak with her. To establish whether or not she was truly the sorceress prophesied by Eva so many years ago. You did as I asked of you perfectly.”

  “She’s an innocent, Melenia.”

  “No mortal who lives and breathes more than a day is innocent.”

  “Help me understand. How are you so certain that your plan is the only one there is to find the Kindred? To release us from this prison? How are you so sure of it?”

  Her jaw tensed as she swept past him toward the edge of her chambers, indicating the walls with a wave of her hand. Etched into the silver and crystal were the symbols of the elements—earth, fire, air, and water. It was her shrine to the Kindred, one many immortals had in their living quarters. They prayed to the symbols, hoping for answers, for guidance in the long days, years, centuries that had passed with no change and no escape.

  “Because they speak to me,” Melenia said very simply, running her fingers lightly over the triangular symbol for fire. “They tell me what to do. How to find them. And your princess is the key. When my road is complete, her blood will be spilled. All of it.”

  A shudder went through Alexius.

  Once, he was prepared to sacrifice Lucia for the sake of saving his world before the magic faded completely from it. He’d been committed to the cause, as had a select few immortals chosen specially by Melenia to join her small army.

  Melenia turned from her shrine to study Alexius and she tilted her head. “I wanted her to fall in love with you, to make her more willing, more pliable. But you’ve fallen for her as well, haven’t you?”

  “No.” He bit out the bitter word, feeling the falseness of it leave his mouth.

  “You can’t lie to me. I know the truth when I see it.” She sighed. “This complicates matters.”

  “I need to go to her.”

  “Yes, I’m sure you think you do.” Her hand remained upon the symbol for fire as she gave him a quizzical look
. “You’re not the only one currently infatuated with a mortal. Phaedra has allegedly been watching one closely as well. A rebel.”

  His gaze snapped to hers. “A rebel?”

  “I don’t trust her. She sees too much. She knows too much, just as Stephanos did. I worry that your friend is becoming a liability to my plans.”

  She said it lightly, but a gnawing concern began to build within Alexius’s gut. If Phaedra proved herself a problem for Melenia, then he worried deeply for her. Phaedra did not guard her thoughts or her words. She spoke her mind too plainly and she acted spontaneously and without thorough consideration of any risks. Such behavior could earn her enemies. Powerful ones.

  Perhaps it already had.

  “Why must your plans remain secret?” He asked the question that had been plaguing him for months. “To find the Kindred, to break the chains keeping us trapped within the Sanctuary: it benefits all of us. Why not tell Timotheus or Danaus of the princess? Of the road?” He hesitated. “Is there something more you seek that they would not approve of?”

  “Don’t worry about such things. And don’t worry about your princess.”

  “I need to go to her,” he said again. “Now. It cannot wait.”

  “No, you don’t need to go anywhere. Not yet. Not until I’m ready for the final piece of this puzzle to snap into place.”

  “The final piece of your puzzle means her death.”

  “You agreed to this, Alexius. You agreed to what would save your kind, save the world. Do you really want to change your mind now?”

  “What I want is to find another solution.”

  “There are no other solutions.” She came toward him and took his hands in hers, squeezing them tightly. “I understand, I do. I understand what it’s like to love someone forbidden to me. To pine away for him. To ache for his touch and know that a future together is impossible. I know to what lengths someone is willing to go to help the one they love more than anyone else.”

  His eyes met hers, hope flooding his heart.