Rebel Spring (14 page)

W
hen Princess Cleo awoke, she found herself in the back of a rickety horse-drawn cart speeding across the countryside, her wrists bound.

Jonas had thought it best to restrain her. He knew she wasn’t going to be very happy with him. This was, perhaps, an understatement.

“Welcome back,” Jonas greeted her as she opened her aquamarine eyes.

She regarded him sleepily as the rest of the sleeping drug wore off.

Then clarity entered her gaze.

“You beast!” she snarled, lunging for him even while secured. “I hate you!”

He gently pushed her back down to a seated position. “Save your breath, your highness. You’ll strain yourself.”

Her gaze moved frantically around. “Where are you taking me?”

“Home sweet home.”

“Why have you done this?”

“Desperate times, princess.”

“You overestimate my worth to Prince Magnus and his father. Whatever you’ve asked for will be denied!”

“I asked him to stop construction on his road.”

Her brows shot up. “That was a stupid request! There are a million more important things for a rebel to demand from a king. You’re not very good at this, are you?”

Jonas leveled a dark look at her. Sometimes he forgot just how sharp her tongue could be. “Do you even know what that road is doing? How much Paelsian blood has soaked the ground at the construction camps? How many have died in the last month?”

Her mouth fell open. “No. If such horrors are true . . . I’m so sorry.”

It was not the first she’d ever heard of such atrocities—he’d mentioned it before, though not in detail, when he’d visited her chambers. But she would not have seen any proof. Despite her lofty betrothal to the prince, Jonas still believed her to be very much a prisoner of war told little of what happened outside the palace walls.

“The King of Blood does not have a gentle hand in dealing with slave labor. He may have lulled the majority of your Auranians into a false sense of security, but I assure you, the same cannot be said for my people. I saw for myself what his guards have full permission to do without penalty or opposition. And it must be stopped at any cost.”

The high color in her cheeks drained away. “Of course it must be stopped.”

Her words were unexpected and full of sincerity. It took him a moment to find his voice. “Looks like we do agree on a few things after all. How shocking.”

“You want to paint me with the same brush you paint the Damoras. I’m not like them. But if you wanted to kidnap someone with influence in that family, it shouldn’t have been me. My death at the hands of a rebel would ultimately be a gift to the king, not a hardship.”

In the dress shop, he’d told her he’d meant her no harm, but he couldn’t blame her for thinking the worst. This was the second time he’d kidnapped her. He must seem truly beastly to this girl. Jonas leaned toward her, ignoring her automatic flinch, and began to untie her bindings so her hands would be free.

“I guess we’ll have to wait and see about that, won’t we, princess?”

• • • 

Once they reached the edge of the Wildlands, thirty miles from Hawk’s Brow, Jonas thanked the driver of the cart—an Auranian sympathetic to the rebel cause he’d met during his previous visit to the city, at the same time he recruited Nerissa as a helper—and guided Cleo into the darkness of the thick forest.

She didn’t run from him or fight. It took very little pressure on her arm to keep her at his side as they moved across the tangled terrain.

“Murderous thieves make their home here.” She failed to keep the tremble from her voice.

“Absolutely,” Jonas replied.

“Dangerous animals, too.”

“Without a doubt.”

She slanted a look toward him. “Perfect place for you.”

He repressed a snort. “Oh, such compliments, your highness. You’re going to make me blush.”

“If you took that as a compliment, you’re even more stupid than I thought you were.”

This time he couldn’t hold back his grin. “I’ve been called worse than stupid.”

A royal like her would never normally have journeyed past the tree line to see how dark the forest could get, especially this close to dusk. The thick leaves on the tall, imposing trees blocked out any sunlight, casting a soulless darkness all around them, as if this were the middle of the night. Cleo stumbled on the twisting roots of the trees, nearly falling. Jonas gripped her arm tighter. “No time to stop, princess. Not much farther now.”

Even he didn’t like to tarry long in such a place without the protection of a larger group.

She yanked at her skirts to keep them out of the muck and weeds and gave him a dirty look.

Finally, they arrived at a slight clearing. A bonfire crackled, lending light to the gathering darkness. The strong scent of cooked venison told Jonas that the hunt had gone well today. The rebels wouldn’t go hungry tonight.

The princess’s steps faltered again as shadows approached. At least three dozen rebels with ragged clothes and unfriendly expressions drew closer. Some began to climb the trees. Cleo looked up, her eyes widening at the sight of the makeshift shelters strung together with rope, sticks, and thin pieces of wood twenty feet up into the thick branches.

“This is where you live,” she said with surprise.

“For now.”

Cleo crossed her arms and swept a glance through the camp. Only a few rebels looked directly at her—some with curiosity, but most with distrust or contempt. Not the friendliest place in the world for a royal princess, that was for sure.

Tarus raced out in front of them, flashing Jonas a grin as he pursued a rabbit. At fourteen, he was one of the youngest of the rebels and endlessly enthusiastic, if currently unskilled in combat. Jonas had taken him along on several recruiting missions. The kid’s slight build and friendly face helped to set at ease the minds of any suspicious citizens Jonas wished to speak with.

The sound of conversation, of chirping insects, and the squawk of birds high in the trees brought the forest to life all around them.

It wasn’t so bad here. At least,
he
didn’t think so.

Cleo scratched her arm where she’d been bitten by a mosquito, seeming more annoyed than fearful now that this indignity had been heaped upon her. Too bad. It wasn’t the finest golden palace, or even a reasonably decent inn, but it would have to do.

Brion approached. “Need any help here?” he asked, flicking a look at Jonas.

“No,” Jonas replied. “Everything’s fine. Go find your girlfriend and keep her out of my way. I don’t need any more trouble tonight.”

“You mean the girlfriend who, depending on the day, hates my guts almost as much as she hates yours?”

“That’s the one.”

Brion moved away past the fire, slapping a boy named Phineas on his back. They laughed about something while glancing back in Cleo’s direction.

“That’s Brion,” Jonas said. “He’s a close friend of mine. Strong, loyal, brave.”

“Good for him.” Cleo narrowed her eyes. “You’re their leader, aren’t you?”

Jonas shrugged. “I do my best.”

“And on your orders they’ll kill me—even your close friend Brion. Or would you prefer to do it yourself?” When he didn’t answer right away she turned to look directly at him. “Well?”

He drew closer and curled his fingers around her upper arm. The girl spoke too loudly and much too freely. She was worse than Lysandra. “You’d probably be smart not to make such suggestions out loud, your highness. You might give some of my rebels ideas. Not everyone agrees with my decision to bring you here.”

She tried to pull away but he held firm.

“Unhand me,” she snapped.

“This is politics only, princess. What I’ve done today—what I’ll do in the days ahead—is for my people. Only them.” Jonas’s gaze shifted to the left and he swore under his breath when he saw who now swiftly approached.

Lysandra’s hair was loose from her braid, a long, wild tangle of dark curls. Her brown eyes fixed on Cleo. “So this is her, is it? Her
royal highness
?”

“It is,” Jonas said, already weary. Dealing with the stubborn and opinionated Lysandra was exhausting even on the best of days. “Lysandra Barbas, please meet Princess Cleiona Bellos.”

Cleo remained silent, wary, as the girl looked her up and down.

“She’s still breathing,” Lysandra observed.

“Yes, she is,” Jonas confirmed.

Lysandra walked a slow circle around Cleo, eyeing her gown, her jewelry, the pointy tips of her gold sandals peeking out from beneath her skirts. “Should we send the king one of her royal fingers as proof that we have her?”

“Lysandra,” Jonas hissed, his anger rising. “Shut up.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Let me guess,” Cleo said, her expression pinched. “This is one of your rebels who did not approve of your plan to kidnap me.”

“Lysandra has her own ideas on what decisions I should be making these days.”

The rebel girl swept her disapproving gaze over Cleo again. “I don’t fully understand the worth in kidnapping useless girls who serve no purpose other than looking pretty.”

“You don’t even know me,” Cleo snapped. “And yet you’ve decided you hate me. That would be as fair as my hating you, sight unseen.”

Lysandra rolled her eyes. “Let’s just say that I hate all royals equally. And you’re a royal. Therefore, I hate you. Nothing personal.”

“Which makes absolutely no sense. Nothing personal? Hate is something I take quite personally. If I’ve earned it, that’s one thing. If I haven’t . . . it’s a foolish decision for you to serve out such a strong emotion without thought.”

Lysandra’s brows drew together. “King Gaius burned my village to the ground and enslaved my people. He killed my mother and father. And my brother, Gregor—I don’t know where he is. I might never see him again.” She spoke even more furiously. “You, though—you don’t know pain. You don’t know struggle and sacrifice. You were born with a golden spoon in your mouth and a gilded roof over your head. You’re betrothed to a prince!”

Again, Jonas opened his mouth to speak. This was leading them nowhere and had gained the attention of a dozen more rebels, who were now listening intently to the girls.

But the princess spoke first. Cleo’s eyes flashed. “You don’t think I’ve known pain? Perhaps it’s different from the horrors you’ve experienced, but I assure you, I have. I lost my beloved sister to a disease no healer could name. I found her body myself, cold in her bed only hours before King Gaius invaded my home. My father was murdered trying to defend his kingdom from his enemy. He fought side by side with his men rather than hide himself away where he might have been safe. My mother died in childbirth with me and I never met her—but I knew my sister hated me for years because of this. I lost a trusted guard, a . . . a boy I’d given my heart to, when he defended me against the very prince I’m now betrothed to against my will. I have lost almost everyone in this world I love in such a short time that I can barely remain standing and contain my grief.” She drew in a ragged breath. “Think of me what you will. But I swear to the goddess I will have my throne back—and King Gaius will pay for his crimes.”

Lysandra stared at her for another moment, her eyes now brimming with tears. “You’re damn right he will.” Without another word, she stormed away from them and disappeared into the dark forest, followed after a moment by Brion.

Had Cleo won the girl over or had her speech fallen on deaf ears? Jonas didn’t know. And he still wasn’t sure how much of Lysandra’s bravado was real and how much was generated to make her look tough in front of the others. But the pain in her eyes whenever she spoke of her village, of her parents and her lost brother . . . that was real. He understood her pain, just as he understood Cleo’s. For two very different girls, they had a lot in common.

He realized the princess was glaring at him.

“Yes?” he asked.

Cleo raised her chin. “If you decide to kill me when King Gaius refuses your demands, know I will fight for my life until my very last breath.”

“I don’t doubt it for a solitary moment.” Jonas cocked his head. “Though I think there’s some sort of misunderstanding here. I don’t plan to kill you—now or later. But am I going to use you against the Damoras as much as I possibly can? You bet I am.”

Her brows drew together. “How?”

“He holds you as a symbol of hope and unity to the Auranian people. The rebels shall do the same. If he refuses to meet my demands to ensure your safe return, you will stay here with us as a rebel. If the golden princess chooses to stand with us in the face of the king’s lies, that is a very strong statement.”

Her mouth dropped open, and she was about to protest, but he held up his hand.

“I do believe he values you alive. But, of course, I’m not an idiot. He assumes that we’ll choose the violent path if he doesn’t comply, and this would also serve him well. Any footing the rebels have gained in the view of those people would be lost if you’re harmed. But it’s not my plan to hurt you in any way. You are worth more to me—and to the king—alive than dead. So I suggest you settle in, get comfortable, and wait it out. We’ll feed you, give you a place to sleep. This forest has a fierce reputation, so rarely does anyone sane venture in here.”

Cleo swept her eyes over the length of him. “Obviously.”

He offered her the edge of a grin. “I know my means of getting you here were far from gentle. But I swear no one will abuse you now that you’re here. You’re safe. And know this: I personally plan to shove my blade through the king’s heart and free my people from his tyranny. When I have that chance, you might just get your throne back. But Auranos is not my concern; Paelsia is.”

He let his words settle in.

Cleo nodded. “And the future of Auranos and its citizens is mine.”

“Another thing we have in common—a love of our individual lands. That’s good. So, tell me, princess, will you continue to fight me on everything I do? Or will you be nice and cooperate?”

Cleo didn’t speak for a long, silent moment. But then she met his gaze full-on, and it was every bit as fierce as his was. “Fine. I’ll cooperate. But I might not be nice about it.”