Rebel Spring (18 page)

Magnus considered all of this. “Are you saying that you believe her to now be aligned with the rebels?”

“Let’s just say that I plan to keep a very close eye on her in the days ahead, and you should do the same. Especially with the wedding so close now.”

A muscle in Magnus’s cheek twitched. “Of course. The wedding.”

“Is there a problem with that?”

“None at all.” He turned to study the Limerian coat of arms that now adorned the wall, which included the image of a cobra and a pair of crossed swords. “That she has returned in time for the wedding makes me believe she is in no way aligned with these rebels. I would think she would have liked to avoid such a ceremony if she could, even if it meant remaining among their kind.”

“Perhaps you’re right. But she is back. And you should also know that we’re expecting a very important guest for the wedding. The message reached me only this morning that Prince Ashur Cortas of the Kraeshian Empire will be attending.”

The name was well known to Magnus. “What a great honor.”

“Indeed. I was very surprised and very pleased the prince accepted our invitation on behalf of his father.” The king said this tightly, as if he did not mean it. The Kraeshian Empire lay across the Silver Sea and was ten times the size of Mytica. Prince Ashur’s father, the emperor, was the most powerful man in the world.

Not that Magnus would ever say such a thing out loud in front of King Gaius.

His father was silent for a moment. “There’s another grave matter I must discuss with you. Please come inside.” The king turned to the throne room and entered through the large wooden doors, his hound’s claws scratching against the marble floor as the dog stayed at his master’s side.

Please.
It was a word so rarely used by his father that it sounded like one from a foreign tongue. Slowly, he followed the king into the room.

“What’s wrong? Is it Lucia?” Magnus asked, his voice strained.

“No. This unfortunate matter doesn’t concern her.”

The fear that had tightened like a fist in his chest unclenched. “If not Lucia, then what do you need to tell me?”

The king looked off to his left and Magnus followed the direction of his gaze. Upon a marble slab lay the queen, her arms folded across her stomach. She was very still, very silent.

Magnus frowned. Why would she be sleeping in the throne room?

It took him a moment to understand.

“Mother . . .” he began, his breath coming quicker as he approached her.

“It’s the work of rebels,” the king said, his voice low and even. “They were upset that we refused to meet their demands about ceasing construction on the Imperial Road. This is my punishment.”

The queen’s face was pale, and Magnus could have sworn she was only sleeping. He reached out a hand toward her but clenched his fist and brought it back to his side. There was blood on her pale gray dress. So much. His own blood turned to ice at the sight of it.

“Rebels,” Magnus said, the words hollow in his throat. “How do you know?”

“This was the weapon used. The murderer left it behind.” The king held up a dagger, one with jewels embedded in its hilt, the silver blade wavy. “Such evidence has helped us pinpoint his identity.”

Magnus’s gaze moved from the ornamental weapon to his father’s face. “Who is he?”

“This very dagger once belonged to Lord Aron. It was what he used to kill the wine seller’s son in the Paelsian market—Jonas Agallon’s brother. That was the last time Lord Aron saw this weapon.”

“You’re saying Jonas Agallon is responsible for this.”

“Yes, I believe so. And I also believe that by leaving the dagger behind, he wanted us to know it was him.”

Magnus fought to keep his voice from trembling. “I will kill him.”

“There’s no doubt that the boy will pay dearly for this crime.” The king hissed out a breath. “I’ve underestimated the rebels. To be so bold as to assassinate the queen . . . it’s a crime that Jonas Agallon will pay for very dearly. He will beg for his death long before I’ll give it to him.”

This woman who’d given birth to Magnus eighteen years ago, the one who read him stories and danced with him as a child. The one who dried his tears . . . the one who’d shown her long-buried affection to him that day in the temple . . .

She was gone forever.

“Strange, though,” the king said into the heavy silence. “Another body was found close by, also stabbed. It was an accused witch we’d had in the dungeons in Limeros, one I had long since forgotten about.”

With an aching heart, Magnus studied the gray strands in his mother’s hair, which contrasted so greatly with the ebony darkness of the rest of it. She hadn’t liked that. She hadn’t liked looking older, especially when compared to the king’s mistress, who’d magically retained her beauty. “I don’t understand. Did the witch have something to do with the rebels?”

“It’s a mystery, I’m afraid.”

“I must start looking for Agallon.” Magnus forced the words out. Speaking was the last thing he felt like doing right now. “Immediately.”

“You can join the hunt upon your return from the wedding tour.”

He turned on his father, his eyes blazing. “My mother has been murdered by a rebel and you want me to make a tour across the kingdom with a girl who hates me.”

“Yes, actually. That’s
exactly
what I want. And you will do it.” The king regarded Magnus with patience in his dark eyes. “I know you loved your mother. Her loss will be felt for a very long time—all of Mytica shall grieve her. But this wedding is important to me. It will seal my control over the people in this kingdom with no more opposition than necessary as I move ever closer to having the Kindred in my grasp. Do you understand?”

Magnus let out a shaky breath. “I understand.”

“Then go. And keep the information about the witch to yourself. We don’t want any rumors started that the queen associated with such lowly women.”

Magnus frowned at the ludicrous notion. He’d assumed the rebels were acquainted with the witch, not his mother. “Do you think she did?”

“Honestly, I don’t know what to think right now or what would possess Althea to leave the palace in the wee hours of the morning.” The king glanced down at the face of the wife he’d had for twenty years. “All I know is my queen is dead.”

Magnus left the throne room where his mother lay, his steps faltering when he got around the next corner and into an empty alcove—no guards, no servants. Suddenly, he couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. He staggered over to the wall and braced his hand against it. A sob rose in his throat, but he fought with all his strength to swallow it back down.

Moments later, a cool, familiar voice intruded into his grief. “Prince Magnus, I suppose you’ll be very glad to know of my safe return. I hope you didn’t miss me too much.”

He didn’t reply. All he wanted was some privacy.

Princess Cleo regarded him, her arms crossed over her chest. Her pale hair was loose, wavy past her shoulders to her waist.

“I’m kidnapped by rebels, held as their prisoner for an entire week, escaped with only my wits to aid me, and you don’t even have a greeting for me upon my return?”

“I will warn you, princess, that I’m not in the mood for foolishness right now.”

“Neither am I, so I suppose we have something in common. And I thought there was nothing we shared.” Her gaze held not an edge of friendliness, but a tight smile lifted the corners of her mouth.

“Smiling?” he managed. “Whatever have I done to deserve this? Or perhaps you’ve already heard the news to help brighten your day.”

“News?”

He felt impossibly weary. “The news of the queen’s death.”

A frown creased her brow. “What?”

“She was murdered by rebels.” He took in her unconcealed look of shock. “So there you go. Something for you to celebrate.”

Magnus turned away from her, ready to find solace in his chambers, but the princess grabbed his arm to stop him. He sent a dark look at her over his shoulder.

“I would never celebrate death, no matter whose it is,” she said, her gaze filled with anger and something else. Something that looked vaguely like sympathy.

“Come now, I’m sure you wouldn’t mourn any Damora.”

“I know very well what it’s like to lose a parent in a tragic way.”

“Oh, yes, we have so much in common. Maybe we should get married.”

She released him, her expression souring. “I was trying to be kind.”

“Don’t try, princess. It doesn’t suit you. Besides, I don’t need or want your kindness or your sympathy. Both feel alarmingly false coming from you.”

Something hot and wet slipped down his cheek. He swiped at the unbidden tear and turned his face away, appalled that she’d seen it.

“I never would have believed you’d care so deeply for anyone,” she said softly.

“Leave me alone.”

“Gladly.” But now she sounded uncertain, as if the sight of him crying over his dead mother had deeply confused her. “But, wait, before you go . . . I’m sorry to disturb you, I just don’t know who else to ask. I need to talk to my friend. To Mira. I can’t find her anywhere. I’m told she’s no longer Princess Lucia’s attendant. Do you know where she’s been reassigned?”

He took five steps down the hall before she called out to him. “Prince Magnus, please!”

He turned. At that moment, there was nothing in Cleo’s expression except the need for him to help her in some small way. She believed he could do that much.

“Apologies, princess,” he said, holding her gaze, “but while you were gone my father took the life of your friend Mira for overhearing a private conversation. I do regret that he made that decision, but I can assure you her death was quick and painless.”

Horror crossed her face. “
What?
”

“She was taken away, her body burned, the bones buried in the servants’ graveyard. Again, I am sorry for your loss. There’s nothing to be done to fix this.”

The sound of Cleo’s grief-filled wail followed him all the way back to his chambers.

T
hat same hawk was back again, perched in the trees. She kept Jonas in sight for most hours of the day. Perhaps he was being paranoid, especially since he didn’t believe in legends . . . but, still.

If she was a Watcher, then Jonas hoped she would approve of the plan he’d just laid out before his rebels, explaining how they would assassinate King Gaius and Prince Magnus at the princess’s wedding.

“Let me get this straight.” Lysandra was the first to speak up when he was finished. “You won’t attack the Blood Road like I want, but you think you can march into the royal wedding at the Temple of Cleiona and kill both the king and the prince where they stand.”

“That is what I said, isn’t it?”

“I thought maybe I’d heard you wrong.”

“Do you have a problem with my plan?”

“Several problems, actually.” The girl looked stunned, as if he’d managed to take her by surprise. She stood next to Brion, who regarded him with bemusement.

“Anyone else with problems?” Jonas turned in a circle to survey the rest of the group. The rebels spoke quietly to each other, eyeing him with varying expressions—from interest to awe to wariness. “Or is Lysandra the only one who always wants to oppose me on every decision I make?”

“We were all nearly slaughtered by the king once already. You want him to have another chance at it?” a boy named Ivan said. Originally, Jonas had thought him someone with leadership qualities, but Ivan rarely took an order without debate and complaint. Everything was a fight with him. And the bravery he showed by his size and muscles didn’t seem to go much further than the surface.

Ivan had a point, but it wasn’t a very good one. Not one rebel had fallen beneath the Limerian guards’ blades the night they’d invaded the camp, which was both a miracle and a relief. The plan to scatter and regroup at their secondary location had been a sound one. Jonas took this as a sign that they were meant to fight another day.

Yes. Cleo’s wedding day.

“This will work,” Jonas said, his voice loud enough for all fifty of his rebels gathered around to hear. “King Gaius will fall.”

“Show him,” Lysandra said.

Jonas frowned. “Show me what?”

Brion stepped forward. He had a piece of parchment in his hand, which he unrolled and held up for Jonas to see.

On it was a sketch of a dark-haired boy and a proclamation.

JONAS AGALLON

WANTED FOR KIDNAPPING AND MURDER

LEADER OF THE PAELSIAN REBELS
WHO OPPOSE THE GREAT AND NOBLE KING GAIUS’S
RIGHTFUL REIGN OVER ALL OF MYTICA

10,000 CENTIMOS REWARD

DEAD OR ALIVE

His mouth went dry. He handed it back casually. “Doesn’t look anything like me.”

Lysandra made a disgusted grunting sound. “You see what we’re dealing with here? You’re famous.”

“This means nothing. It stops nothing. Besides, I might be guilty of kidnapping, but I haven’t murdered anyone.” Not yet, anyway.

“Do you think lies will stop the king? He means to end you, and he’s offered the greedy Auranians a reward to help pinpoint your location.”

“For ten thousand centimos, I’m tempted to turn you in myself,” Brion said.

Jonas snorted uneasily. “For ten thousand centimos, I’m tempted to turn
myself
in.”

“This isn’t funny.” Lysandra gave both of them a dirty look.

He had to agree; it wasn’t. But he wasn’t surprised that the king would do something like this. In fact, it was a good sign that the king had begun to consider the rebels a serious threat. If Jonas had to be the face—albeit a poorly sketched one—of the rebel resistance, then he would take on that mantle with pride.

“I thought you wanted me to make a move like this, Lys,” Jonas said, trying to ease the anger he saw rising in her expression. “You’ve wanted us to attack the road camps ever since you joined us.”

“And I saw for myself how unprepared for an attack of that magnitude we are. I know now that we can’t go in as a random assault, not with so few of us. We would be slaughtered if we don’t go in with a plan. So I’m working on just such a plan. I’m figuring out what point of the road is the weakest, where we could make the most difference.”

“You can’t say that it’s a bad move to take the king out, can you? If he’s dead, his road will cease construction. Agreed?”

She glared at him. “I can agree on that much.”

“Then there’s no problem.”

“Wrong. There is. He needs to die, I agree. But this is to be your first act of true rebellion, beyond destroying frescos of his face? Suddenly, you’ve become a stealthy assassin, able to sneak into a heavily guarded temple and get close enough to sink a blade into both the king and the prince without anyone stopping you. Even with the offer of a reward for your capture plastered all across Auranos?”

“Concerned for my safety.” He forced a grin that was far from genuine. “That’s so sweet of you.”

“I know why you’re doing this.” Lysandra raised her voice for all to hear. “Our leader wants us all to saunter into a heavily guarded wedding so he can save his beloved damsel in distress.”

“That’s not it.” The words hissed out from between Jonas’s clenched teeth. “This is to rid Paelsia of the King of Blood’s tyranny. To free our people. I thought that was what you wanted, just as the rest of us do, but now you’re trying to say anything to deter me?”

“I’m not saying it wouldn’t be the greatest gift in the entire universe to watch the king die so he can pay for his atrocities. His death would be the answer to every problem we have.”

“Then what are you saying?”

“I’m saying I think you will fail,” she said flatly. “That unfortunately today your reach exceeds your grasp. And that you can’t see this for yourself because you’ve been blinded by golden hair and blue-green eyes.”

Jonas had told not one person of the kiss in the cave with the princess—not even Brion. He still wasn’t sure what the kiss had meant, if anything. All he knew was that watching Cleo walk away into the guards’ camp was one of the most difficult things he’d ever had to do.

The other rebels muttered to each other. Jonas couldn’t hear what they were saying, but it didn’t sound favorable to him. Lysandra was like the edge of a blade that could slice these rebels apart just when he needed them to stick together.

“Enough squabbling, you two,” Brion growled. “It’s not helping anything. It never does.” He rolled up the reward parchment and tossed it into the campfire.

“This has nothing to do with the princess,” Jonas snarled, but he knew it was at least partly a lie. After all, it had been Cleo’s idea—and he still believed it was a damn good one. “And I’m not going in blind. Nerissa’s information has been very useful. She has it on the authority of at least two of the king’s guards that the majority of security at the wedding will be outside for crowd control. Inside, there will be guests, temple attendants, the priest. A handful of guards at the most. I can get us in there to do what we have to do.”

Lysandra crossed her arms over her chest. “How did Nerissa get such information? Oh, wait, let me guess. Did she seduce the guards? Does that girl have any other skill?”

Seduction was Nerissa’s specialty. And now that she could never set foot in Hawk’s Brow again, after assisting Jonas with Cleo’s kidnapping, she was very eager to prove herself as an aid to the rebels. In fact, Nerissa had expressed a great interest in seducing Jonas himself. While he had declined her attentions, he’d been more than happy to put her expertise to use elsewhere.

“Brion,” Jonas said under his breath. “A little help here?”

“Nerissa hasn’t seduced me,” Brion said. “Well, not yet. I think she’s getting around to it eventually. I’m guessing she has a list.”

“
Brion
.”

His friend let out a long sigh. “Look, Jonas, I know you want to do this. That after so long of not taking a bold action like this, you’re itching to jump on any opportunity. But—I don’t know. I think Lys might be right on this one. It’s too risky right now. You have to see that, right?”

Jonas stared at his friend as if seeing him for the first time. “Of course it’s risky. But if it works, it will mean everything.”

“If it doesn’t, then . . . it means nothing. And you’ll be dead.”

“You’re taking her side.”

The patience was fading from Brion’s gaze. “It’s not a matter of taking sides. It’s an attempt to see the situation clearly.”

“You used to be the first one to jump into a fight. What happened?” His temper and frustration had risen and with it his tactlessness. “Oh, wait. I know what happened. Lysandra happened.”

Any remaining friendliness disappeared from Brion’s face. “That’s a low blow.”

“You’re not thinking with your head when it comes to her. Sorry to break it to you, but taking her side isn’t going to make her fall in love with you. So you should stop following her around like a lost puppy.”

He finally looked directly at his friend, just as Brion’s fist slammed right into his face. Jonas staggered back from him.

“If I want your opinion,” Brion said in a growl, “I’ll beat it out of you.”

Jonas swiped his hand beneath his nose. “Hit me again and we’re going to have a problem.”

This time, Brion shoved Jonas so hard that he slammed into a tree trunk.

Now the rebels were much more vocal than before.

“Come on, Jonas! Don’t let him do that.”

“Knock him out, Brion!”

“Kick his arse! Let’s see some more blood!”

Paelsians always did enjoy a good fight.

“Stop it,” Jonas growled as Brion drew closer, his fists clenched at his sides.

“Or what?”

“Or I’ll stop you.”

Brion had a tendency to brawl at any given moment, but he’d never once fought with Jonas. Despite the warning, Brion approached again, but Jonas was ready this time. He punched Brion in the stomach, then in his chin, knocking his friend backward and to the ground. Lysandra ran to the boy’s side, glaring at Jonas.

“This doesn’t change the fact that I think she’s right and you’re wrong,” Brion managed to groan. “Feel free to go after the king at that wedding, but it’ll be at your own peril.”

Jonas turned to the other rebels, furious now that his best friend, someone he considered a brother, refused to stand with him on this decision. “You know my plan. With or without help I will be at the royal wedding in four days. I will assassinate King Gaius myself. I welcome any volunteers who want to join me. After this, we won’t be put on reward signs; we will be held up as heroes. Think about it.”

Then he turned his back on the lot of them and walked into the darkness of the thick forest to clear his head.