Rebel Spring (6 page)

Lucia’s mind tripped over itself in an effort to keep up with him. “What happened to Eva? How could an immortal Watcher die?”

“She made a mistake that cost her life.”

“What?”

A sad smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “She fell in love with the wrong boy—a mortal hunter who led her astray and away from her home and those who protected her. He destroyed her.”

Lucia realized that she’d drawn even closer to Alexius without realizing it, so close that when he turned to face her again his sleeve brushed her arm. Despite this being a dream, she swore she felt the heat of his skin against hers.

She took a shaky step back from him.

Lucia had always been one to soak up books and information, her mind hungry for more than her tutors wanted to teach her. And no one seemed to know much about
elementia
, since magic was mostly considered legend, apart from some accused witches. Even Sabina, who proclaimed herself to be a witch, had shown no true sign of magic to Lucia—at least, not enough to defend herself when Lucia had protected herself and Magnus from that evil woman.

You didn’t have to kill her
, a little voice said inside of her. The same voice that had tortured her ever since it happened. The memory of Sabina’s lifeless, charred body dropping to the floor flooded through her mind yet again.

“Tell me more, Alexius,” Lucia whispered. “Tell me everything.”

He raked a hand through his bronze hair, his expression growing uncertain. “It was a long time ago that Eva lived. Memories of her grow unclear, even for me.”

“But it was a thousand years ago that she gave the prophecy with her last breath. Didn’t you say that?”

“Yes. The same time the Kindred were lost to us.”

Her breath caught. “You have unclear memories of a sorceress who lived and breathed a thousand years ago. How old are you?”

“I already told you, princess. Old.”

“Yes, but exactly
how
old?”

He hesitated, but only briefly. “Two thousand years.”

She stared at him in shock. “You’re not old. You’re an ancient relic.”

He raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging again at his lips. “And you are sixteen mortal years. A mere child.”

“I’m not a child!”

“You are.”

Lucia groaned with frustration. Such arguments were getting her nowhere, as were thoughts of how it was possible a two-thousand-year-old Watcher could appear so young and attractive—more so than any other boy she’d ever known. She had to focus on gaining more knowledge, more information that could help her. She pointed toward the city. “I want to go there. I want to talk to someone, someone whose memories aren’t unclear about what exactly happened with the last sorceress, who she was, what she did . . . anything!”

“That’s impossible, princess. This is a dream, and like I said, this is only a copy of what is real. And even if it wasn’t, mortals do not enter the Sanctuary, just as Watchers do not leave it, unless in the form of a hawk.”

This might be a real conversation, but it was still within the confines of a dream. What she saw before her had no more weight in reality than a painting or sketch. She thought of Alexius’s hawk form and how he used it to travel to the mortal world to spy on her. It was an unsettling thought that he’d been watching her since she was only a baby.

“It is such a gift to take the form of something that can fly,” she finally said.

“A gift,” he said softly, and something sharp and pained in his voice tugged at her heart. “Or a curse. I suppose it depends entirely on how you look at it.”

She frowned, uncertain about his shift in tone. “You drew me into this dream because you say you can help me. How? Or is that unclear for you too?”

She did not mean to sound petulant, but she couldn’t help it. He hadn’t told her anything helpful, only tantalizing bits of information that had no solid use. Alexius’s face turned to the left, his brow creasing deeply. “Someone is here.”

She looked around. They were alone. “Who?”

Finally, his expression relaxed. “It’s my friend, Phaedra. She means us no harm. She probably wonders where I disappeared to.”

“Another Watcher?”

“Yes, of course. She’s helping with the search for information, part of what we have to—”

The next moment he vanished. One moment he was there, the following he was gone.

Lucia turned around in a circle, alarmed. “Alexius?”

And then the meadow, the Sanctuary, were gone, disappearing like broken glass falling away and leaving only darkness behind.

H
awk’s Brow, the largest city in Auranos, was an excellent place to witness the true effect of having the King of Blood on the throne.

It was also a great spot for two rebels to seed some revolution before heading back to their camp in the rough forests of the Wildlands.

“Look at them,” Jonas said to Brion as they moved down the side of the road in the heart of the vibrant business district—shiny taverns, luxurious inns, and shops selling all sorts of wares, from flowers to jewelry to clothing. “Going about business as usual.”

“Auranians are certainly . . .” Brion paused to find the right word. “Adaptable?”

“Gullible’s more like it. It’s sickening.” A boy about their age strode past them and Jonas called out to him. “Do you live here?”

The young man had blond hair. He was dressed in the finest silk, a tunic the color of emeralds and decorated with gold-threaded details.

“I do,” the boy said, frowning as he swept his gaze over the pair’s torn and dusty cloaks. “You’re . . . not from around here, are you?”

Jonas crossed his arms. “We’ve come to Hawk’s Brow in search of information about how the people of this fine city are dealing with the new king.”

The boy’s gaze darted to others passing them by without second glances, and then to the far right where there were two of the king’s uniformed soldiers patrolling the next crossroads.

“Do you work for King Gaius?” he asked.

“Consider us independent researchers,” Brion replied.

The boy shifted his feet nervously. “I can only speak for myself, but I am more than happy to welcome a new ruler to Auranos. I have heard of his speech last week and all the wonderful promises he made—about the construction of the road and the betrothal of his son to Princess Cleiona. We’re all very excited about the royal wedding next month.”

“Do you believe it’s a good match?” Jonas asked.

His expression grew thoughtful. “I do. And, if you ask me, the princess should be thanking the goddess for such a lofty betrothal. It shows that King Gaius is willing to put aside hard feelings for a smooth transition to his rule. He puts his new citizens first. And, really, not much has changed despite the”—again, his gaze moved toward the soldiers in red—“increased presence of his men.”

Not much has changed
. Perhaps not for someone who spent his pampered life with his head stuck up his own arse. Jonas and Brion had talked to many in this city since they arrived yesterday and most had had the same response as this fool. Life had been easy before, and they believed if they did as King Gaius instructed and didn’t cause problems, life would continue on that way indefinitely.

“Are you aware of a growing rebel presence in Auranos?” Brion asked.

The boy’s brows drew together. “Rebels? We don’t want any problems like that.”

“I didn’t ask if you wanted problems, but if you’d heard of them.”

“I have heard of a few scattered rebel groups—both Auranian and Paelsian—causing difficulties. Destroying property, inciting riots.”

Inciting riots?
Brion and Jonas exchanged a curious glance.

Such rumors sounded as if the rebels were aimless in their goals. They were not. Everything Jonas chose to do—be it property destruction, poaching for food, or stealing a ready supply of weapons for practice and protection—was to create a stronger group of rebels who would be ready to rise up fully against the king when the time was right. He also focused much of his attention on recruiting new rebels to enter his ranks.

Jonas’s main reason to journey to Hawk’s Brow was to source new recruits. As the largest city in Auranos, less than a half day’s journey from the City of Gold, it was a key area where Jonas knew he needed rebel support. Just that morning, Jonas had convinced a young and pretty Hawk’s Brow maiden to join their cause, and to await his future instructions. The riots this boy spoke of, though, must be the work of other factions—perhaps even Auranians. It was a good indication that they weren’t all as useless as this one.

The boy continued, “I’ve also heard that any rebels who are captured are put to death. What sane person would ever want to join their ranks?” His gaze then shifted with growing alarm between the two boys, as if realization had finally dawned on him with whom he spoke. “I, uh, really must be on my way. I hope you enjoy the rest of your day.”

“Oh, we will,” Jonas called after him as he scurried away without another word. “We certainly will.”

“Definitely
not
rebel material,” Brion murmured.

“Perhaps one day, but not today. He hasn’t seen nearly enough hardship.”

“He actually smelled like jasmine and citrus. Who smells like jasmine and citrus?”

“Certainly not you,” Jonas said, laughing. “When was the last time you . . .” His words trailed off as he saw a fresco on the side of a building of King Gaius’s handsome face. The words S
TRENGTH
, F
AITH
, and W
ISDOM
—the Limerian credo—were in the mosaic below, along with the larger word T
OGETHER
.

“He’s doing it,” Jonas grumbled. “That bastard is fooling them into submission with his shiny speeches and pretty promises. They don’t realize that he’d happily destroy them at his whim.”

“Hey, where are you going?” Brion called after him as Jonas marched across the road toward the mural. The artist must have just finished, for the plaster was still wet. Jonas began to tear at it, smearing what could be smeared and crumbling the dry parts away in his hands.

“Jonas, we should go,” Brion cautioned him.

“I won’t let him win. We need to show everyone what a liar he is.” His fingers had quickly begun to bleed from the effort.

“We will. I mean, we
are
. We’re going to make a difference.” Brion looked nervously over his shoulder at the people that were gathering to see the vandalism of the king’s mural. “Remember those Auranian rebels who lost their heads last week?”

Jonas’s hands stilled. He’d managed to destroy the king’s face completely. It was very satisfying to wipe away the smug expression. He longed to do it in real life. “Yes.”

“Let’s not join them, all right? And on that note, let’s start running.”

Jonas’s gaze whipped to the right to see that several guards were drawing closer, their swords in hand.

“Stop!” one shouted at them. “In the name of the king!”

Running was definitely a good suggestion.

“Your new king lies to you all!” Jonas yelled at the crowd as he and Brion darted past them. A girl with long dark hair and light-brown eyes studied him curiously and he directed his next words at her. “The King of Blood will pay for his crimes against Paelsia! Do you stand next to a deceitful tyrant or do you stand with me and my rebels?”

If he could change just one mind today, then it would be worth it.

The guards stayed on Jonas and Brion’s tail as they tore down cobblestone streets, along narrow alleyways, barely avoiding the carriages and horses of wealthy Hawk’s Brow residents. With each sharp turn, Jonas thought they might have lost their pursuers, but the guards were not so easily evaded.

“This way,” Brion urged, grabbing Jonas’s arm and pulling him down a side street next to a small tavern.

But there was no exit. The two came to a staggering halt at the stone wall blocking their path and turned to face the three armed guards. A hawk on the tavern’s roof took off in flight.

“Couple of troublemakers,” a guard growled. “Now we get to make an example out of the two of you.”

“You’re arresting us?” Brion asked hopefully.

“And give you a chance to escape? No. Only your heads will be making the journey back to the palace with us. The rest of you can stay right here and rot.” He smiled, showing off a broken tooth. His compatriots chuckled.

“Wait,” Brion began, “we can figure something—”

“Kill them,” the lead guard instructed, stepping back.

Jonas grappled for the jeweled dagger he kept at his waist—the very same dagger Lord Aron had used to take Jonas’s brother’s life—but it would be little use against three sharp swords. Still, if he would die today, he would take at least one of these brutes with him. He gripped the dagger tightly. Brion clutched another blade in his hand as the two guards approached, their hulking forms blocking the sunlight.

Then both guards staggered forward, their expressions registering pain and confusion. They fell forward, hitting the ground hard. Sticking out of each of their backs was a deeply embedded arrow. The third guard spun around, his sword raised. There was a sickening sound and he, too, fell to the ground, an arrow protruding from his throat.

A girl stood at the entrance to the alleyway. As she lowered her bow, Jonas realized it was the same girl he had seen in the crowd earlier, but now he noticed that she wore the tunic and trousers of a boy. Her dark hair hung in a thick braid down her back.

“You said you’re rebels. Is this true?”

Jonas just stared at her, dumbfounded. “Who are you?”

“Answer my question first and I might tell you.”

He exchanged a look with Brion, whose eyes were wide as saucers. “Yes. We’re rebels.”

“And you mentioned Paelsia. You’re Paelsian?” She swept her gaze over them. “Well, that should be obvious by how you’re dressed. Not nearly enough tailored silk between you to pass for Auranians. Tell me, though . . . do you nearly get yourselves killed every day?”

“Not
every
day,” Brion said.

The girl checked over her shoulder. “We should move. There are plenty of guards in this city, and they will soon wonder what happened to their friends, especially when they hear of the fate of the King of Blood’s mural.” She looked at Jonas. “Nice work there. Messy, but effective.”

“I’m glad you approve. Now, who are you?”

She shoved her bow into the holder strapped to her back and pulled her cloak to cover it and her boy’s attire. “My name is Lysandra Barbas and I, too, am Paelsian. I’ve traveled across Paelsia and Auranos looking for rebels. Looks like I’ve finally found a couple.”

“Do you need our help?” Jonas asked.

She looked at him as if he might be stupid. “Clearly, you need
my
help. I’m joining your group. Now come on, we can’t stay here.”

Lysandra turned and began walking swiftly away from the alley, leaving the bodies of the three guards behind without another glance.

Before Jonas realized what he was doing, he was following her, Brion jogging alongside him to keep up to their fast pace.

“Lysandra,” Jonas said. “Are you sure you know what you’re saying? The life of a rebel is dangerous and uncertain. You’re very good with a bow and arrow”—
amazing, actually
—“but where we make camp in the Wildlands, it’s not safe or secure. They’re a dangerous place, even for us.”

She turned on him, her eyes flashing. “Is this about me being a girl? Don’t you have any female rebels?”

“A few,” Jonas admitted.

“I’ll fit in just fine, then.”

“Don’t get me wrong, we’re thankful for your interference back there—”

“Interference?” She cut him off before he’d managed to get an entire sentence out. “I saved your lives.”

She wasn’t exaggerating. Those guards would have executed both him and Brion on the spot if she hadn’t interfered. He had come to Hawk’s Brow seeking new recruits and Lysandra appeared to be full of potential. Still, there was something about her that made him hesitate.

That fire in both her eyes and her words—it wasn’t something shared by every Paelsian. Jonas’s own sister Felicia was a fighter, a warrior when necessary, but Lysandra’s passion and willingness to fight was as rare as diamonds.

Still, his gut told him—rather loudly, in fact—that Lysandra Barbas would be trouble.

“How old are you?” he asked.

“Seventeen.”

Same as both Jonas and Brion. “And where is your family? Do they know you’re off seeking a life of danger?”

“My family is dead.”

The words were delivered flatly and without emotion, but they still made Jonas wince.

“King Gaius’s men came to my village to recruit everyone to work on a road he’s started to build,” she explained. “When we said no, they came back and burned my village to the ground. They butchered almost everyone who tried to run away. Those who lived were enslaved and carted off to one of the road camps. For all I know, I was the only one who managed to escape.”

King Gaius’s road—the one he’d announced during his speech a week ago. “When was this?”

“Two weeks ago. I’ve barely slept since. I’ve tried to keep moving, keep searching. Most in Paelsia are so accepting of fate—of destiny. It sickens me. Those here in Auranos are delusional, thinking King Gaius isn’t as bad as his reputation. They’re wrong—all of them. Now that I’ve found you, I can join your numbers and help to free our countrymen.”

Jonas swallowed hard, his chest tight. His feet pounded against the ground as they continued to put distance between them and the dead guards. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Don’t be sorry. I’m here and I’m ready to fight against the King of Blood. I want to see him suffer. I want to see him lose his precious crown and have his world burn to the ground as he dies screaming. That’s what I want.”

“That’s what we all want. My rebels are ready to make a difference and we’re—”

“
Your
rebels,” Lysandra said sharply. “Are you saying you’re the leader?”

“Of our group, yes.”

“What’s your name?”

“Jonas Agallon.”

Her eyes widened. “I’ve heard of you. Everyone in Paelsia knows your name.”

Yes, the murder of his brother Tomas—the inciting incident that brought about King Gaius’s bid for war against the Auranians with naive Paelsians fighting at his side—had made both their names well known throughout the land. His fingers brushed against the jeweled dagger he held on to only so he could one day use it to end Lord Aron’s life.

Lysandra flicked a glance at Brion. “And who are you?”

He smiled eagerly. “Brion Radenos.”

She frowned. “I’ve never heard of you.”