Frozen Tides (9 page)

“I . . . uh . . .” Jonas shocked at the sight, stumbled over his words.

“This pile of dung”—she kicked the buttocks of one of the groaning men—“tried to grab my chest! And this one”—a sharp kick to the other—“laughed and cheered him on! I'm never wearing a dress again. I don't care if King Gaius himself recognizes me.”

Jonas felt half-appalled, half-delighted as one of the young men looked up at him in agony. “Get her away from us,” he moaned to Jonas.

“Gladly.” Jonas took Lysandra's arm and pulled her back around the corner and onto a main street.

“You never fail to amaze me, you know that?” Jonas said to Lysandra as they walked. “I thought you were in serious danger.”

“Insulted and annoyed, perhaps, but not—”

Jonas pulled her closer and gave her a quick, hard kiss on her lips, smiling. “You're amazing. Never forget it.”

The bright color had returned to her cheeks as she touched her mouth. “You're lucky I'm all right with you, or you'd be on the ground, too, for taking me by surprise like that.”

“Very lucky,” he agreed, still grinning.

She bit her bottom lip. “Now, um, what's going on? I couldn't get a helpful word from anyone around here. What about you? Anything?”

“Yes, I learned plenty.” He told her about Bruno, about the king's departure, and that Magnus and Cleo were in Limeros, soon to be joined by Nerissa.

Lysandra swore under her breath. “So, what now? Should we get on a ship and try to go after the king?”

He shook his head. “Too late for that. But luckily we've got something just as important to do instead.”

Her gaze dropped to his shoulder. “Find someone who can heal your wound?”

Jonas knew he couldn't hide his feverish face and weakness from her, so he didn't bother trying anymore. Whether they could find someone skilled enough to help him in time, though—that was the question.

“If we can find a proper healer, then yes.” He set his chin and looked into her light brown eyes with determination. “And then we're going to Limeros to rescue a princess and kill a prince.”

MAGNUS

LIMEROS

H
is father used to insist that Magnus sat in on royal council meetings when he was younger, although he hadn't paid much attention to them. He regretted that now as he tried very hard not to drown in a sea of complicated political dilemmas and decisions.

His first meeting had gone poorly, and the councilmen did not hesitate to show their dismay that Kurtis was no longer in command. Of course they didn't dare be rude to his face, but from Magnus's seat at the head of the long table he could sense their simmering disapproval in their rigid body language and harsh glares. Many of the current councilmen, including the wealthy and influential Lord Francus and Lord Loggis, and the High Priest Danus, had been in the king's inner circle since Magnus was a sullen boy with a habit of keeping to the shadows of the palace. Surely they hadn't seen him then as a strong and capable heir to the throne. And Magnus could tell that they still judged him that way, not knowing that he was different, much more like his father now, in many ways.

The council had unanimously requested that Lord Kurtis take a seat on the council, claiming that it was rightfully his, given all he'd been responsible for in his father's absence. Since Kurtis had committed no actual crime against the throne, and to appease the council as much as he was able, Magnus decided to grant this request.

Magnus scanned the document that had been presented to him at the beginning of today's meeting.

“It's quite a problem, isn't it, your highness?” Kurtis asked in his reedy voice.

The war against Auranos—short as it may have been—had cost Limeros a hefty fortune. This deficit was further compounded by the high cost of constructing the Imperial Road. To compensate, even the poorest citizens were now being taxed to the point of utter destitution. The kingdom hadn't yet been completely bankrupt, but it was clear that something needed to change.

“This situation is deeply troubling,” Magnus said slowly. “But what troubles me more, Lord Kurtis, is that in your father's months as grand kingsliege, he was not able to come to a reasonable solution.”

“My sincerest apologies, your highness, but my father wasn't granted the authority to make such sweeping changes without the permission of the king. And the king has been in Auranos, occupied with southern affairs, for so long that I daresay many of his citizens have nearly forgotten what he looks like.”

A comment as insolent as that should have received dark looks from the other council members, but instead Magnus saw them nodding their heads.

A guard pushed open the doors and entered the room.

“Your highness,” said the guard, bowing his head, “my apologies for interrupting, but Princess Cleiona is here.”

This was the last thing he expected to hear from a guard interrupting a council meeting. “And?”

The guard frowned, then glanced at Kurtis, who stood up.

“Your highness, this is my doing. Your lovely wife expressed an interest to sit in on this council meeting during our archery lesson this morning, and I didn't dissuade her.”

“I see,” Magnus replied tightly.

“She's eager to learn about everything, your highness, but of course I understand if you feel that a woman has no place in such meetings.”

Murmurs hummed along the council table of the old men who agreed with this statement.

Magnus thought he knew what Kurtis was trying to do. He wanted to make Magnus look like a fool before the council. Either by allowing a woman to sit in on the meeting—women were sternly forbidden from participation in any official palace affairs—or by tempting Magnus to protest his suggestion, thus risking offending the princess, which might allow Kurtis to gain more of her trust.

Magnus gestured to the guard. “Bring her in.”

Cleo entered the throne room, her gaze keen and her chin raised. If she was at all nervous about being here, she didn't show it.

Her gown was blue, the color of Auranos and her favorite. Her long, golden locks hung in loose curls to her waist, free of any braids or twists.

He much preferred when she wore her hair up. It wasn't such a distraction to him then.

“Princess,” he said stiffly, indicating the vacant chair to his right. Hesitating only slightly, she approached and took the seat.

During their time in Limeros, he'd of course seen Cleo at meals
and other public events, but he hadn't spoken to her privately since their discussion on the balcony. He reminded himself to avoid balconies in the future—they were dangerous places to find himself alone with her.

“All of you have had the honor of meeting Princess Cleiona Bellos of Auranos.” He reintroduced the members of the council, who all nodded at her in turn. “And, of course, princess, you're already well familiar with Lord Kurtis.”

“Indeed. Lord Kurtis has been teaching me how to handle a bow and arrow this last week,” Cleo explained to the councilmen. “He's an excellent tutor.”

“And you are an excellent student,” Kurtis replied. “Soon you'll be winning competitions, just as your sister did, if that's your goal.”

Oh yes,
Magnus thought wryly.
I'm sure that's exactly why she wants to learn how to send sharp arrows directly and precisely into a target.

Magnus decided to imagine Kurtis's right eye socket as his own personal target.

“Your highness, perhaps it would be interesting to get the princess's take on the problem at hand?” Kurtis suggested.

This sounded very much like a challenge.

“Yes,” Magnus agreed. “It would be interesting, wouldn't it?”

“How absolutely ludicrous,” the high priest said under his breath.

“What was that?” Magnus asked sharply. “Did you say something?”

The priest smiled weakly. “No, your highness. I was just clearing my throat. I look forward to hearing your wife's thoughts.”

Magnus slid the financial document in front of Cleo. She scanned it quickly, her expression turning serious. “This is a great deal of money,” she said. “To whom is it owed?”

“King Gaius has an agreement with the moneylenders in Veneas,” Kurtis replied. “They expect to be repaid without extensive delay.”

“And so you're taxing all of the Limerian people to these great extents?” She looked sharply at each of the council members. “What about the rich?”

“What about them, your grace?” asked Lord Loggis.

“According to this document, these financial issues are due to the decisions of the rich. Why wouldn't they be expected to contribute the lion's share of this debt? To clean up their own mess?”

“That's quite a sentiment for an Auranian royal to have,” Loggis countered. “Then again, Auranos's poor would be the equivalent of our rich, wouldn't they?”

“Thank you for your opinion about my homeland, but you didn't answer my question,” Cleo said with a patient smile. “Should I take your insult to mean that you're trying to avoid this matter? Or that you're not sure why your taxes are structured as they are?”

Magnus watched her with barely concealed amusement. Cleo certainly wasn't winning many allies in this room, but he found her ability to stand up for herself deeply admirable.

Not that he'd ever admit this out loud, of course.

“Well?” Cleo prompted, glancing next at Lord Kurtis.

Kurtis spread his hands in the air before him. “We can only hope that your husband will come up with a solution that benefits everyone. He is, after all, currently in command here.”

Now Magnus pictured another arrow entering Kurtis's
left
eye socket. Slowly. Again and again.

“Well,” Magnus said after a tense silence, “what might you suggest, princess?”

Cleo met his gaze, the first time she'd looked at him so directly since their last private talk. “You really want to know?”

“If I didn't, I wouldn't ask.”

She regarded him for another moment before speaking again. “My father never had trouble with debt.”

“How lovely for your father,” Lord Loggis mumbled.

She gave the lord a sharp look, then turned back to address the rest of the group. “In fact, it was just the opposite. Auranos was and is very wealthy. My father would often lend money to other kingdoms, just as those in Veneas are known to do.”

“And?” Magnus prompted after the table fell silent. “How does this recollection of the past help the current situation? Auranian finances are included as part of this document—part of Mytica as a whole. And they, too, have recently been depleted in an attempt to pay off part of this debt.”

Thanks to your father's lust for power
were the unspoken words he was certain he saw glittering in her narrowed eyes.

Cleo cleared her throat, then softened her suddenly rigid expression with a patient smile. “Perhaps,” she said. “But the problem stems from Limerian, not Auranian, origins. Limeros, to my knowledge, has never been nearly as wealthy as Auranos. There is so much that separates our people, not just Paelsian land. But within those differences, I believe an answer can be found.”

Lord Francus leaned in closer and studied the princess with a peevish—yet curious—expression. “And what, precisely, is that answer, your grace?”

“In a single word?” She sent her glance around the table, resting on each councilman's face in turn. “Wine.”

Magnus blinked. “
Wine
.”

“Yes, wine. Your laws prohibit inebriants of any kind, yet wine is a source of great wealth—both in sales within the kingdom and export to lands overseas. While Limerian soil is likely too
cold to nurture any crops, Paelsia vineyards lie not so far away. A solid third of their land is still rich—even if its people are not. If Limerian workers and merchants were to assist Paelsians with their wine production and trade, with Auranos's help, Mytica could again become a very wealthy kingdom.”

“Wine is forbidden in Limeros,” the high priest pointed out sternly.

Cleo frowned. “So make it . . .
un
forbidden. This council certainly has the power to do that, right?”

“The goddess forbade it!” cried the high priest. “Only she can choose to make such a change, and I don't see her here at this table. Such a suggestion is . . .” He shook his head. “Ludicrous. And, frankly, offensive!”

Cleo glared at him with exasperation. “The suggestion to change an outdated law that is single-handedly preventing you from solving your financial crisis, that could ensure this kingdom's future if it were reversed, is
offensive
?”

“Our goddess—” he began.

“Forget your goddess,” Cleo cut him off. Several council members gasped. “You need to think of your citizens—especially the poor, who are suffering right now.”

Everyone began speaking at once, one argument overlapping another, creating a cacophony of grunts and chatter.

Magnus leaned back in his chair, clasped his hands on his lap, and silently observed the outrage. Cleo's cheeks were flushed red, but he knew it wasn't from embarrassment. Her heightened color was a product of sheer outrage.

“Quiet, all of you,” Magnus said, but no one heard him above their own noise. He raised his voice and shouted. “Silence!”

The council finally hushed, all eyes turning to look at him expectantly.

“Princess Cleiona's suggestion is certainly”—
How best to put it?
—“Auranian.”

“
Outrageous
is more like it,” Loggis mumbled.

“Outrageous to us, perhaps. But that doesn't mean it has no merit. Perhaps Limeros
has
been stuck in the past for far too long. Religious tradition aside, the princess has suggested a potential solution, and I agree that it's worth more thought and discussion.”

Cleo turned to him, her expression gripped with surprise.

“But the goddess—” the high priest protested once again.

Magnus held up his hand. “The goddess does not currently have a seat on this council.”

“
I
represent the goddess here, lest you forget,” he continued, his voice edged in fiery defiance. He sniffed as Magnus gave him a sharp glare, then lowered his gaze to the table top, his jaw clenched.

Magnus stood up and walked around the long table, considering the problem at hand. “I'll send a message to my father, presenting this proposal to him. As he has made no attempts to cease the sale and consumption of wine or ale in Auranos, I believe he may see the potential here to solve a great many problems with one bold decision.” The high priest again opened his mouth, and Magnus raised his hand to stop him. “Can you swear to the goddess right now that you have never tasted a drop of wine in your entire life, High Priest Danus? I certainly can't.”

“Nor I,” Kurtis conceded with a nod. “The princess is as smart and innovative as she is beautiful.”

“Indeed she is,” Magnus agreed without thinking.

Cleo glanced at him, clearly surprised by this admission. Their gazes locked and held. He was the first to look away.

“This meeting is at an end,” Magnus said, managing to find his voice again.

The council members moved to leave, but Lord Loggis raised
a finger, stopping them. “There is one last matter to discuss, your highness,” he said. “The large search party of guards that has been sent out to find Princess Lucia has found nothing at all. Apologies, but to continue to have so many men focused this task seems to me a misuse of both manpower and resources.”

His sister's name drew Magnus's full attention. “I disagree.”

“But, your highness,” Lord Loggis went on, “nothing about the current situation suggests that your sister is in any danger. Perhaps . . .” He cleared his throat. “Perhaps once the princess has had enough time to think through her recent actions, and how they might have caused some alarm, she will simply return to the palace and all will be well and forgiven.”