Rebel Spring
The thought was absurd. “You need my help?”
“The rebels need information about the Damoras. Their plans, their schemes. And this road—the one the king announced during his speech. Did you know he’s butchering entire villages and enslaving Paelsians to help him build it as quickly as possible? It means something to him, this road. Something important. Something beyond what anyone else believes it to mean.”
Butchering villages? She felt the blood drain from her face. “What?”
“That’s what I want you to find out. I want you to be my spy.”
For a moment, she couldn’t seem to form words. “What you’re asking could get me killed.”
“The very act of breathing could get you killed. Same for anyone else. You might be trapped here, but you’ve been given great privilege. The king underestimates how deep your hatred for him flows. He doesn’t know what you’re capable of.”
Cleo did fully mean to destroy the king and everyone who had aligned with him in order to reclaim her throne. She would not stand by and see her people—or any people from any land, for that matter—abused and enslaved by this man.
But could she be a spy for Jonas? Could she net him the information he was looking for to help the rebel cause?
Perhaps she could.
She would have to give this more thought. And she could not think with the rebel here in her presence.
“I need to consider my options,” she said quietly. Not that she had many to consider.
Jonas cocked his head as if he hadn’t heard her correctly. “Princess, you need to—”
“I need to do nothing, not when it’s something that involves you. You thought to barge into my chambers, wait for me in the dark, and expect me to be drooling at the very idea of working together to defeat the king? You may underestimate me, but you vastly overestimate yourself.” She didn’t want to say no to him, but she couldn’t say yes, either. Not yet. “I don’t trust you. I will never trust you, Jonas Agallon.”
His mouth dropped open. “Are you denying me?”
His reaction was nearly comical. “I will assume this is not something you normally deal with when you ask a favor from a girl.”
He frowned. “Actually . . . it’s not.”
She heard a rustle outside her door. Any moment it could swing inward and a guard might enter and capture Jonas. “You must leave.”
Her breath caught as he grasped her chin and drew her closer. “You will help me when you realize it’s the only way you will ever have a chance to be queen.”
“I will be queen, no matter what I must do to achieve it. I am betrothed to a prince, remember? One who will one day take the throne.”
He actually laughed at this, a sound that held no humor. “You can’t honestly believe King Gaius will ever let that happen. Open your eyes, princess. Your wedding is only another distraction to try to keep his new citizens satisfied and looking in directions other than where the king’s true greed lies; and so no one realizes how thin his army is now spread policing all of Mytica. Beyond that, you’re a liability to the crown, to the king’s power and the prince’s claim to the throne. You have great value to them, perhaps, but it will be short-lived, as you too will be if you choose to remain here.”
She’d already thought of this herself, but it was shocking to hear it put into cold, hard words. Once she’d become worthless to the king as a figurehead to the Auranian people, there was no doubt in her mind that he’d quietly have her killed and disposed of. She remained silent.
“I’ll be in touch again, soon, your highness, once you’ve had more time to consider what I’ve said.”
Jonas released her and turned to her window. The warmth of his touch lingered for the briefest of moments as she watched him slide out of the window and scale the wall as if he were a cliff-dwelling creature like those rumored to live in the Forbidden Mountains. He effortlessly dropped the last ten feet to the ground and within moments disappeared into the shadows.
Chapter 7
MAGNUS
AURANOS
Another day. Another speech.
Magnus attempted to ignore the incessant heat in this green and sunny kingdom that coaxed a trickle of perspiration to slide down his spine beneath his dark clothing. A glance at the line of palace guards showed varying levels of discomfort on every face. Their thick red uniforms were meant for cold Limerian days. Even the queen’s brow shone under the bright glare of the hot day.
“Today we officially break ground here at the starting point of the Imperial Road.” King Gaius addressed the crowd of a few hundred who’d gathered at the Temple of Cleiona, a three-hour carriage ride from the palace. “It’s my pleasure to share this moment with you all.”
The king nodded toward Magnus, who took his cue and bit into the ground with the sharp edge of the shovel handed to him. The crowd cheered, and he swept his gaze over those closest to the front.
Not all were cheering. Some watched with narrowed eyes and suspicious expressions. Many were well aware that the road was already under construction at several points across Mytica. Today was just for show.
“Well done, your grace,” Aron said. Magnus grimaced at the sound of his reedy voice. It really would have been much easier if the boy had been relieved of his tongue after all. Then he wouldn’t always be trying to make friendly conversation with Magnus as if they were equals.
“You think?” “You broke ground with confidence and certainty, befitting your position.”