Rebel Spring (21 page)

It had all happened in a flash—barely time to think.

Jonas smiled thinly, his eyes narrowed. “Seems you have some celebrating to do, your majesty. So do we.”

King Gaius glanced over the group of rebels, at least twenty dangerous-looking boys who’d now taken hold of the temple. They stood before the fallen guards and blocked the entrances, sharp weapons in hand.

“You’re Jonas Agallon.” The king’s expression was calm despite the fact that his son was currently frozen in place with the edge of a sword digging into his throat. “We met before when you accompanied Chief Basilius to our meeting with King Corvin. Seems like a very long time ago.”

If anything, Jonas’s gaze grew more steely. “Here’s how this is going to go. First I’m going to kill your son. And then I’m going to kill you.”

King Gaius spread his hands. “It does seem you have us at a great disadvantage, doesn’t it?”

Cleo’s heart began to pound even harder, if that were possible. She craned her neck to send a frantic, sweeping glance through the temple. Twenty rebels had quickly disarmed and overtaken the dozen Limerian guards stationed inside the temple, all of whom were now dead or unconscious.

But where was Nic?

“Surprised how lax your security is in here. Outside was much trickier to navigate—and, I’ll admit, it’s going to be a difficult escape, but we’re up to the task, I think.” Jonas looked smug and satisfied, like a hungry cat who’d cornered a tasty pigeon. “Frankly, I think you’d have been smarter to use a smaller, less public venue for such an important event—somewhere you kept secret. Too bad you didn’t.”

“I’m sure you would have discovered that location,” the king said. “You’re that good. I’m thoroughly impressed by your skills. I’m sure your people follow your every order precisely and with great admiration.”

For a king facing assassination, he was so calm it was eerie.

“Father,” Magnus gritted out. A trickle of blood slid down his skin from the edge of Jonas’s blade.

“What do you want?” King Gaius asked Jonas again, not sparing a glance at his son’s face.

“What do I want?” Jonas asked disbelievingly. “Exactly what I just said. I want to see you pay for the crimes you’ve committed against my people. I’ve seen your road with my own eyes, your majesty.” The title was used mockingly. “I’ve seen what you’ve authorized your guards to do. I asked for it to be stopped, but you ignored my demands. Your error. Today, it will stop with your death.”

“I can offer you great riches.”

“I want nothing but your blood.”

King Gaius smiled thinly. “Then you should have been much swifter about making it flow. That was
your
error, rebel.”

An arrow sliced through the air, catching the rebel standing next to Jonas in the chest. The boy fell to the ground, twitching violently before his body went still.

Cleo watched with horror as half the wedding guests stood up from their seats and charged the rebels.

The lack of guards inside the temple was only an illusion. They’d been pretending to be witnesses to the wedding—they were the faces she didn’t recognize. And they attacked the now-outnumbered rebels with full strength.

Taking advantage of the distraction, Magnus knocked the sword from Jonas’s grip. Then Magnus grabbed the front of Jonas’s cloak and threw him up against a marble pillar hard enough that the back of Jonas’s head cracked against the hard surface.

Cleo was shoved forward as a rebel and a guard fight came too close. She scrambled out of their way, fighting to move against the heavy, binding skirts of her gown, which made it feel as if she was moving through mud. She missed the swipe of a dagger by mere inches.

“You killed my mother, you son of a bitch,” Magnus snarled at Jonas. “I’m going to tear out your heart and shove it down your throat.”

Jonas blocked the prince’s clenched fist. A nearby rebel took a sword to his chest and he staggered back, slamming into Magnus, knocking the prince’s grip free from Jonas.

The blood of the fallen pooled on the marble floors—so red against the white. Cleo stared at it, unable to process how quickly everything had fallen to chaos.

At that second the temple began to shake, trembling at first and then more and more violently. The floor cracked open with an enormous splintering sound, and several guards fell screaming into the jagged, gaping chasm. The massive statue of Cleiona toppled over and crashed to the ground, crushing three people. Everyone standing was knocked off their feet. Cleo, still crouched on the floor, threw her arms defensively over her head.

King Gaius shakily rose to his feet though the ground was still shaking horribly, his furious gaze searching the temple until it landed on Cleo.

He didn’t notice what was right behind him.

A marble pillar had dislodged from the broken roof and was falling. The king was directly in its path.

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 because 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
.”