Rebel Spring

“The princess is not cozying up to the enemy. The betrothal wasn’t—couldn’t have been her idea. The Damora family destroyed her life, killed her father, and stole her throne.”

“And now she’s been welcomed into that family, with a gilded roof over her head and attendants to serve her breakfast in bed and see to her every need.”

“I disagree.”

“You can disagree, but it doesn’t change anything. I don’t care a fig for Princess Cleiona. What I care about is my people—my brother, those from my village and every other Paelsian who’s been enslaved. We must mount an attack on the road immediately! If you want to show the king that we’re a threat, as you said, that we’re a force to be reckoned with, this is how to do it. We free the slaves and destroy any progress that’s been made.”

“We?” Jonas repeated.

Her cheeks were flushed from her vehemence. “Yes, we.”

“Would you be so kind, Lysandra, as to give me a moment to discuss matters with Brion?” He nodded toward the nearby line of fruit-selling stalls. “We’ll meet you over there shortly.”

“You will take me to your rebel camp?” she persisted.

He didn’t speak for a moment, just studied this wildcat who’d saved his life and shown her remarkable skill as an archer. He wanted to tell her to go away and not cause him any additional problems— since it was clear to him that she would be difficult to deal with. But he couldn’t. He needed passionate rebels, no matter who they were. “Yes, I will.”

She finally smiled, a bright and attractive expression that lit up her entire face. “Glad to hear it. We’re going to make a difference. Just you wait and see.”

Without further comment, Lysandra turned and walked swiftly to the market. When she was out of earshot, Jonas turned to Brion.

Brion met his gaze. “That girl . . .”

“I know. She’s a handful.”

His friend flashed him a big grin. “I think I’m in love!”

Jonas couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh, no. Don’t do it, Brion. Don’t fall for her. She’s only going to be trouble.”

“I hope so. I like trouble when it looks like that.” Brion sobered. “What about her plan to attack the road?”

Jonas shook his head, thinking of the dead rebels’ blood trickling down the wooden stakes in the palace square. “Too dangerous right now. I can’t risk losing any of us until we know we have a fighting chance. What she’s proposing would mean death to too many.”

Brion’s jaw tensed. “You’re right.”

“But I do need more information—about the road, about the king’s plans. The more we know, the more we can do to stop him. And when we find that weakness, we’ll exploit it.” A fresh fire had lit under his skin at the thought of enslaved Paelsians. “I swear I’ll take him down, Brion. But right now, we’re completely deaf and blind to his agenda unless he announces everything in a speech. I need eyes and ears in that palace.”

“A few spies would be essential. Agreed. But what’s to keep them from being discovered and getting their heads mounted on spikes?”

“A good spy would have to be undetectable. A guard, or someone posing as a Limerian guard.”

Brion shook his head. “Again, head on spike. It would be a suicide mission so soon after King Gaius’s victory. Sorry.”

Jonas worked it over in his mind. An idea that had been gestating since the day after Auranos fell took firmer hold. “Then it would have to be someone already in the palace. Someone close to the king and the prince . . . “

Chapter 6

CLEO

AURANOS

As the date of her d readed wedding drew closer, Cleo’s anxiety grew. She dreamed of escape—of growing wings like a bird and flying away from the palace never to return. But, alas, she was a bird still locked tightly in her cage. So, instead of dwelling on what awaited her in the weeks to come, she focused on what she could control. Knowledge. Studies. Praying she could find the answers she sought before it was too late. She found herself moving toward the palace library for the second time that afternoon, but this time she encountered Mira sobbing in the hall outside the library’s tall doors.

“Mira!” Cleo rushed to her and pulled the girl into her arms. “What’s wrong?”

It took a moment, but Cleo’s friend finally managed to form words. “I still can’t find my brother anywhere! They’ve killed him, Cleo. I know it!”

Cleo drew her further away from the Limerian guards that seemed to lurk in every shadow, instructed, she knew, to keep a close eye on the princess lest she stray away from the castle.

“Nic’s not dead,” Cleo assured her, tugging Mira’s hands away from her tear-streaked face.

“How do you know?”

“Because if he was, Magnus would have been certain to rub it in. For me to know that Nic had been executed for what he did in Paelsia . . .” Even the very thought of it was like a hot poker shoved through her heart. “He knows it would destroy me. And he wouldn’t hesitate to use it against me. I know we haven’t been able to find Nic yet, but he’s alive, Mira.” He’s got to be, she thought.

Her words were sinking in. Slowly, Mira regained control and stopped crying. She rubbed her eyes wearily, a trace of anger now lighting within them. “You’re right. The prince would celebrate your pain. I hate him, Cleo. I hate it every time he comes to see Princess Lucia. He’s a beast.”