Falling Kingdoms

“You said her name was Cleo.”

“That’s right.”

Blondes weren’t that common in Paelsia. They weren’t common anywhere, really, but there were still a few, more often from northern Limeros. Jonas remembered Cleo’s hair, bright as the sun, long and flowing down her slim body.

He’d dreamed of tearing that hair out a piece at a time while she begged for mercy.

Jonas cast a glance to the other side of the tavern to see Brion sitting by the warmth of the fire, his eyes already closing. They’d been busy for days scouting and had stopped for a nightcap before spending the night at his sister Felicia’s and her husband’s, a short distance outside of the village. Chief Basilius’s men were way ahead of them. All eligible men—and boys—on the west coast had been signed up to join the Paelsian army. In their travels, they’d found no sign of any troublemakers or spies. Unless this girl Sera, whom Jonas knew casually from his visits to Felicia and Paulo, spoke of was the Auranian princess herself.

“Maybe I’ll tell you more later.” Sera boldly scooted her chair closer so she could slide her hand down Jonas’s chest and over his abdomen. He grabbed her wrist and she flinched.

“Tell me now.”

“You’re hurting me.”

“No, I’m not. Don’t exaggerate.”

She bit her bottom lip and looked coyly at him, her feigned distress forgotten. “Maybe we should go somewhere a bit more private where we can discuss anything you like.”

“Not tonight.” He wasn’t the least bit interested in going anywhere private with her tonight or any other night. No, he was only supposed to have private time these days with Laelia, a girl he was already tired of spending time with. But until everything worked out with the chief and Jonas’s hope for a successful rebellion against Auranos, he thought it best not to end things between him and the snake dancer. It might backfire on both himself and Brion if they offended Chief Basilius’s daughter. Being kicked out of the chief’s trusted circle would be the least of their worries then.

“You said this Cleo girl is at your grandmother’s cottage?” Jonas said very quietly and very firmly.

“That’s what I said,” she replied, now sullen. “She and her friend are staying there overnight.”

“This is impossible.” He let go of her completely. “She wouldn’t be stupid enough to show her face around here.”

“You don’t think it’s actually the princess, do you? She didn’t act much like a princess.”

If the blonde was Cleo—and he had a sickly gut feeling that it was—then she had a specific reason for being here. But what was it? Was she a spy for her father? He’d seen intelligence and cunning in her eyes that fateful day at the market, an ugly maliciousness that betrayed her outward beauty. He wouldn’t underestimate her. “Who is she with?”

“Some boy named Nicolo. He seemed harmless.”

He relaxed by a fraction. If Sera had said that she was here with Lord Aron, he wouldn’t have been able to control his rage a moment longer.

Jonas’s jaw was so tight that it made it difficult to speak. He pushed back from the table and got to his feet. “Thank you for telling me this, Sera.”

“You’re leaving? So soon? Just because this girl might really be Princess Cleo?”

Jonas flinched as if his brother’s death had happened only minutes ago rather than over two months. His grief was as raw and bloody as it had been that very first day.

Revenge. That’s what he’d wanted. But now with his newfound association with Chief Basilius, he wasn’t sure that was the best course of action. He needed to talk to the chief and find out what to do next. By horse, the chief’s compound was only a two-hour ride away.

He glanced over at Brion. His one hard-earned mug of dark ale sat untouched while he slept, his face lit by the crackling fire.

Jonas would let him have his rest. He’d go and see the chief alone. Only then would he decide what the princess’s ultimate fate would be.

Magnus stood on the balcony of his chambers, staring off into the darkness. He’d stayed in his room tonight, opting to take dinner there instead of trying to deal with his family downstairs. He still didn’t think he could look his father in the eye after their private conversation earlier that week.

There was a knock at his door and he moved off the balcony toward it, certain it would be Amia come to pay him a visit. He wasn’t sure if he was in the mood to appreciate the maid’s particular talents tonight, no matter how enthusiastic she might be.

But it wasn’t Amia.

“Magnus.” Sabina leaned against the edge of the doorway when he opened it. “Good evening.”

“Good evening,” he said without any feeling. This was a surprise. Sabina had never knocked on his door before. After what he’d learned about her from his father, he watched her warily, but with interest.

Everyone had secrets.

“Everything all right?” she asked. “I was worried when you didn’t come down for dinner tonight.”

“I’m fine. Thank you for your concern.”

“I wondered if I might speak with you.”

“About what?”

“A private matter.”

He tensed. Sabina and the king were such close confidants that he worried what this might entail. However, he didn’t think he could refuse. He was certain she wouldn’t be deterred if he simply tried to ignore her.