Rebel Spring (16 page)

“They won’t see. They’re gone.”

“Fine. Then give it to me.” She held out her hand. “I should look at your shoulder.”

Jonas winced as if he’d forgotten he’d caught an arrow.

“I’ll have to stop the bleeding.” He handed her the candle, then shrugged the shoulder of his shirt down to bare half his chest and his upper arm. Cleo brought the flame closer to see the wound and grimaced at the sight of all the blood.

“That bad?” he asked, glancing at her reaction.

“Not bad enough to kill you, obviously.”

Jonas quickly worked his shirt off all the way. His one shoulder was coated in blood around the wound. Otherwise, the flickering light showed his skin to be tanned and flawless and every bit as muscled as, if she admitted it to herself, she’d expected.

Cleo immediately snapped her gaze back to his face.

“Hold the flame still, your highness,” Jonas said. “I have a hole in my shoulder I need to fix or I’m going to keep bleeding.”

Her eyes widened as he pulled the dagger at his belt—polished silver inlaid with gold, a wavy, tapered blade, and a jeweled hilt. She recognized it immediately as the same dagger once owned by Aron, the one he’d used to kill Jonas’s brother. “What are you going to do with that?”

“Only what I have to.”

“Why have you kept that horrible thing all this time?”

“I have plans for it.” He held it over the flame, heating the blade.

“You still want to kill Aron.”

Jonas didn’t answer her, but a little of the hardness in his gaze faded. “My brother taught me to do this, you know. Tomas taught me so much—how to hunt, how to fight, how to fix a broken bone or patch up a wound. You don’t know how much I miss him.”

The pain in his dark eyes pulled at her own. It didn’t really matter who someone was, princess, peasant, rebel, or just a boy or a girl. Everyone mourned when their loved ones died.

The past was far too painful and summoned memories of those she too had lost. Cleo wanted to change the subject. “What does that do, to heat the blade?”

“I need to burn the wound to seal it. Crude, but effective. I’ve taught my rebels to do the same when necessary.”

Jonas pulled the jeweled knife away from the flame. After hesitating only a moment, he pressed the red-hot metal against his shoulder.

The horrible sizzling sound and the acrid scent of burning flesh turned her stomach and nearly made her drop the candle. She scrambled to keep a tight hold of it.

Sweat now coated Jonas’s brow, but he hadn’t made a single sound. He pulled the dagger away. “It’s done.”

“That’s barbaric!”

He gave her a considering look. “You haven’t experienced much adversity in your life, have you?”

She immediately opened her mouth to protest but found that if she were honest, she couldn’t. “Truthfully, no. Until recently my life was a dream. The worries I once thought I had now seem incredibly petty. I never gave a single thought to those who had it worse than I did. I knew they existed, but it didn’t affect me.”

“And now?”

Now she saw with more clarity than she ever had in her life. She couldn’t stand by and watch those in pain without wanting to do something to help. “At the end, my father told me when I become queen that I’m to do a better job than he did.” The image of her father dying in her arms came back to her with agonizing clarity. “All these years, and Paelsia so close to us . . . we could have eased your suffering. But we didn’t.”

Jonas watched her quietly, silently, his face catching the small light of the flickering candle. “Chief Basilius wouldn’t have accepted help from King Corvin. I saw with my own eyes that the chief lived as high as any king did while letting his people suffer.”

Cleo looked away. “It’s not right.”

“No, you’re damn right it’s not.” He raised an eyebrow. “But you think you’re going to change things, do you?”

She didn’t hesitate in her answer for a moment. “I know I am.”

“You’re so young—and more than a little naive. Maybe too naive to be queen.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Insults, rebel?”

He laughed at this. “When we first met you called me a savage. Now I’ve earned the slightly more respectable title of rebel.”

One moment he mocked her, the next he seemed so sincere and real. “When I first met you, you
were
a savage.”

“That’s entirely debatable.”

“That you’ve held on to this weapon for so long makes me wonder how much has really changed.”

“Looks like we’ll have to agree to disagree.” He shrugged the sleeve of his shirt back on but didn’t fasten the ties across his bare chest.

“I guess we will.”

“We’ll have to stay here for the night.” Jonas glanced past the camouflage covering the entrance to the cave, his jaw tight. “I hope my friends managed to get away.”

“I hope so too.” Cleo didn’t want any of them to die—not even the unfriendly Lysandra. The girl only acted as she did out of pain. She’d lost so much. They all had.

Jonas turned from her. “You need your beauty sleep, princess. I’ll keep watch.”

“Jonas, wait.”

When he glanced back at her she pulled the tie from her long hair and let it cascade over her shoulders. His dark eyes followed the fall of her golden hair down to her waist as if mesmerized. “I need to go back.”

Jonas’s gaze snapped back to her eyes. “Back where? To camp? Can’t do that, your highness. It’ll be watched by soldiers for days to come. We’ll go to the other location at daybreak.”

“No . . . that’s not what I meant. I need to go back to the palace.”

He gave her an incredulous look. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am.”

“Then let me make it very clear to you, princess. You’re
not
going back to the palace. Not a chance. Got it?”

Cleo began pacing back and forth in the cramped space, her heart pounding. “The king will not agree to any rebel demands to have me released—but he still wants me back for the wedding to his son. The road will continue on and your keeping me here will have no effect at all. The longer you hold me hostage, the more people will die!”

“I thought I already explained to you, princess, that in war people die. It’s the way it is.”

“But your plan isn’t working. Don’t you see? Keeping me in your camp does nothing except give King Gaius full permission to kill. My absence has not solved any problems for me or for you; it’s only created more of them. I must find the search party and . . .” She tried to picture it, what she could possibly do to end this without more blood spilled. “And I’ll tell them I escaped during their attack. That’s why I took my hair down; they’ll recognize me immediately, even in these clothes. They’ll take me back.”

“And then what?” His tone grew sharper. “Nothing has changed.”

“Nothing
will
change if we continue along this path.”

Jonas stared at her as if he honestly couldn’t understand why she insisted on arguing this point. “Is forest living too hard for you? Too scary to make your home deep in the Wildlands with the rest of us? Need to return to your luxurious life? To your beloved betrothed, Prince Magnus?”

Her cheeks flushed. “I despise him every bit as much as his father.”

“Words, princess. How am I to believe them? Perhaps you’re so committed to the prince and your upcoming royal wedding that you’re having second thoughts about the defeat of King Gaius if it means joining me and living away from such luxuries. After all, your road to become queen is split into two paths, isn’t it? One is alone as heir to the throne of Auranos, the other is on the arm of the Prince of Blood when he takes his father’s place.”

This boy seemed to live and breathe to argue with her. “Don’t you remember, Jonas? You yourself told me that would never happen. That they’d kill me before I ever become queen, no matter what. You think that’s suddenly changed?”

He faltered. “I don’t know.”

“Exactly. You don’t know. Apart from those who are being slaughtered by the king’s men, I have friends at the castle who are in danger without me there. And—and I have something else of great value I can’t turn my back on.”

“What?”

“I can’t say.” The ring was a secret that she refused to share with anyone. She desperately wished she had it with her right now.

Jonas glared at her. “Princess, you are such a—”

But then he froze, grabbed the candle to snuff out its flame, and pushed her against the wall.

Then she heard what he had—voices outside the safety of the cave. The guards had returned to give the area another sweep. Her heart pounded so loud she was certain it would give away their location. It felt like hours that they stayed like that, as quiet and still as marble statues. Pressed up against him, Cleo smelled his scent again, pine needles and open air.

“I think they’re gone,” he said at last.

“Perhaps I should have called out to them. They could have rescued me from you.”

Jonas snorted softly. “I’m good, but I’m not sure I could take on a dozen guards to save not only my neck but yours as well.”

He was so unbelievably frustrating! “Sometimes I really hate you.”

Finally Jonas eased back from her a fraction. “The feeling is entirely mutual, your highness.”

He was still too close to her, his breath hot against her cheek. She couldn’t put her thoughts in proper order. “Jonas, please, would you just consider—”

But before she could speak another word, he crushed his mouth against hers.

It was so unexpected that she hadn’t the chance to even think of pushing him away. His body pressed her firmly against the rough cave wall. His hands slid down to her waist to pull her closer to him.

And just like that, with his proximity, with his kiss, he managed to fill her every sense. He was smoke from the campfire, he was leaves and moss and the night itself.

There was nothing gentle in the rebel’s kiss, nothing sweet or kind. It was like nothing she’d ever experienced before, and so very dangerous—every bit as deadly as the kiss of an arrow.

Finally, he pulled back just a little, his dark eyes glazed as if half drunk.

“Princess . . .” He cupped her face between his hands, his breath ragged.

Her lips felt bruised. “I suppose that’s how Paelsians show their anger and frustration?”

He laughed, an uneasy sound. “Not usually. Nor is it typically the answer to someone who tells you they hate you.”

“I . . . I don’t hate you.”

His dark-eyed gaze held hers. “I don’t hate you either.”

She could easily get lost in those eyes, but she couldn’t let herself. Not now. Not with so much at risk. “I
need
to go back, Jonas. And you need to find your friends and make sure they’re all right.”

“So he wins?” he growled. “The king spills more blood and gets exactly what he wants?”

“This time, yes.” She absently rubbed her hand, wishing she could feel her ring. It might give her the strength she needed to face what was ahead.

“And you’ll marry the prince so the King of Blood can distract the masses with a shiny ceremony. I don’t like that at all.”

Distraction. Shiny ceremony.

Cleo gripped his arm and looked up at him, his words sparking another plan in her mind like flint to a stone. “The wedding.”

“What about it?”

“The Temple of Cleiona—that’s where it will be. Father took me there as a child and let me explore to my heart’s content. I used to look up at the statue of the goddess, stunned that I was named for such an incredible, magical being. My sister and I—we played hide-and-seek there, just as we did at the palace. But there are even more places to hide at the temple. This could be the perfect opportunity for the rebel cause—a chance to get close to the king. Closer than anyone is able to get on a normal day. He means to use my wedding as a distraction—but he too will be distracted that day!”

Jonas didn’t speak for a long moment. “What you’re suggesting, princess . . . it could work.”

“It’ll be dangerous.”

The edge of a grin appeared on his lips. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Wait—no. No!” What a horrible suggestion she’d just made! What was she thinking? “There will be too many guards—it’s far too risky. It’s not worth it.”

“You can’t take back your words that easily. This—it’s an
incredible
idea. I should have thought of it myself. Of course, the wedding! The Temple of Cleiona . . . the crowds will all be outside distracting the guards. Inside . . . it’s the perfect opportunity to assassinate the king and
the prince. We remove the king and his heir. We take control. Paelsia is freed from oppression. And you could have your throne back by nightfall.”

She could barely breathe.

Assassinate the king and the prince.

Well, of course, Magnus would have to die as well. He was next in line to his father’s throne. “You really think this could work?”

His grin widened. “Yes, I do.”

“You’re mad.”

“Hey, you’re the one who suggested it, your highness. Perhaps we’re both mad.” His gaze swept the length of her. “Such ruthlessness in such a petite package. Who would have guessed it?”

This was truly insane. But what other choice did they have? Sometimes, to regain sanity, one had to acknowledge and embrace the madness.

“I’ll do whatever it takes to get my throne back,” she said.

At that moment, she meant every single word.

“Then we’re in agreement. It’s time for my rebels to make a decisive stand, even one that comes with great risk. I will be at your wedding, invitation or not. And the king and the prince will both fall beneath my blade.” He raised an eyebrow. “The only question is, can I trust you to say nothing of this plan?”

Her heart raced like a wild thing. “I swear on my father’s and sister’s souls I will say nothing.”

He nodded. “Then I suppose it’s time for you to go back to the palace.”

Silently, they left the cave and made their way through the dark forest until they came upon the guards’ camp. They had a large fire lit—the sight and scent of it noticeable even at a distance. No reason to hide from predators when these men were the worst and most dangerous this forest currently had to offer.