Rebel Spring

  Cleo flinched as if he’d slapped her. “I’m doing nothing of the sort. I despise Magnus and I always will.”

  He swallowed hard, ignoring the flash of guilt that he’d accuse her of something so unfathomable. “I don’t know why you wouldn’t want to leave this place and never look back.”

  “Because it holds my childhood and sixteen years of happiness. It holds memories of Emilia and my father—and of your sister as well. This is my kingdom—our kingdom.”

  “It’s different now.”

  “You’re right. It is.” Cleo glanced down at the book, placing her hand on its cover. She paused for a few long moments, and then he saw her take a deep breath. “All right. You saw the drawing in here. You saw the ring and how much it looks like the one I now wear.”

  He frowned. What was she getting at? “I did.”

  She met his eyes. “That’s because they are one and the same. My father gave this ring to me in his dying moments.” Her voice caught. “There’s very little tangible information about it, but some believe it is a key to locating the Kindred and harnessing its power. It is the very same ring that the sorceress Eva possessed, which allowed her to touch the crystals without being corrupted by their power. I need to find those crystals, Nic. I need their magic. With it, I will defeat King Gaius and take back my kingdom.”

  His head spun. “Your words . . . they’re mad.”

  “No, this is real. I know it is.”

  Nic tried to process everything she was saying, but one thing stood out, something he couldn’t get past. “Why didn’t you tell me any of this before now?”

  She faltered. “I didn’t want to endanger you—and I wasn’t sure what to do, what to believe. Not completely. But I do now. This book confirms what I already knew to be true. My ring can help me destroy King Gaius.”

  His gut churned, but despite such revelations, one thing stayed true from the moment he walked out here. His goal had not changed. “If anyone else learns that you possess this ring . . .” He took her hand in his, the purple stone cold against his skin. “We’ll leave tonight and we’ll find it together.”

  Her gaze turned bleak. “Nic. Please understand that I can’t leave.”

  There had to be a reason why she resisted this plan, which solved so many problems. And he could think of only one. It was one that tortured him. “When you kissed him in Limeros, it looked so real—it looked like you wanted to kiss him.”

  Cleo groaned with frustration and pulled her hands from him. “I already told you that whatever you saw between us was for show only.”

  He had believed that at the time. But the image of Magnus drawing the princess to him and kissing her before the cheering crowd had worked like a slow-moving poison injected beneath his skin. He had to get this out. He had to speak from his heart or he knew it would be too late.

  Nic took her hands in his again and knelt before her. “I love you, Cleo. More than anything in this world. I beg you to run away with me—away from all this.”

  The other guards had finally taken notice of the two and drawn closer.

  “Is everything all right, your highness?” one called out to her.

  “Yes, of course. My friend is just being silly.” She smiled sweetly in their direction before casting a sterner look at Nic. “You’re going to get yourself thrown in the dungeon for such foolish behavior.”

  Pain blossomed in his chest as if he’d been struck by a blade. He was silent for a moment, his disappointment crushing him. He pushed back up to his feet. His heart was a heavy weight. “I need to go. I need to think.”

  “Nic!”

  He left the courtyard without looking back.

  • • •

  • • •

  “Another.” Nic signaled for the server. He’d lost count of how many drinks this would make. And he planned on many more before he’d pass out later on his hard cot in the servants’ quarters.

  “She doesn’t love me,” he slurred, tossing back the glass of fiery liquid. “So be it. May both our unavoidable deaths be swift and painless here in the heart of our enemy’s lair.”

  The tavern was called the Beast, because it looked like a great black creature crawling up out of the dirt. Also, because it was well known to give its patrons a beast of a headache the following morning. At the current moment, Nic really didn’t care.

  “You look like you’ve had a rather bad day.” The voice was lightly edged with an exotic accent. “Does the drink help?”

  Through his haze of alcohol Nic was surprised to see Prince Ashur of Kraeshia take a seat next to him. He knew the prince had chosen to remain in Auranos after the wedding, temporarily residing in the west wing of the castle. All palace guards had been ordered to keep a close watch on the handsome bachelor—orders that came from the king himself. Some of the guards whispered that the king saw the prince as a threat to his power. After all, Ashur’s father had conquered half the known world as easily as taking candy from a baby.

  For a moment, Nic couldn’t find his voice.

  “It’s a wine made from fermented rice, imported overseas from Terrea,” he finally replied. “And, no, it doesn’t help. Not yet, anyway. But give me time.”

  “Server,” Prince Ashur called out. “Another fermented rice wine for my friend Nic, and for me.”

  Nic eyed him curiously as the server delivered the two glasses moments later. “You know my name.”

  “I do indeed.”

  “How?”

  “I’ve asked about you.” The prince tossed back the drink, his dark brows drawing together with a grimace. “Now that is deeply unpleasant.”

  “What have you asked about me, might I . . . uh, ask?”

  A lock of ebony hair had come loose from the tie at the nape of his neck and fallen across the prince’s forehead. He pushed it back. “I know you’re good friends with the princess. I saw you speaking with her earlier today in the courtyard—and it did not strike me as a conversation between a princess and a guard. Despite your guard’s uniform, I believe you to be one with both influence and knowledge in the palace.”

  “Then you’d be wrong.” He glanced at the prince from the corner of his eye. Perhaps the king was right to worry about this prince. Nic wondered with an edge of worry what the prince might have overheard today. “Where are your bodyguards?”

  Ashur shrugged. “Around, I suppose. I’m not an advocate of being swarmed.”

  “You should know that the City of Gold is not without its dangers.”

  The prince eyed him with amusement. “Duly noted.”

  Nic’s gaze moved to the twin daggers the prince had sheathed to either side of his leather belt. Perhaps the prince could protect himself just fine without comment or concern.

  Five . . . six . . . ten drinks, and Nic found he had few filters attached to his tongue that might keep him from speaking disrespectfully. “What do you want from me, your grace?”

  The amused expression remained on the prince’s handsome face. “To talk.”

  “About what?”

  Ashur swirled the next drink in his glass. “About Princess Cleo’s amethyst ring.”

  Nic went very still. Until today he’d never given a thought to Cleo’s ring. “The princess has a lot of jewelry. I don’t keep track of it.”

  “I think you know the one I’m talking about. After all, you’re her closest confidant.” He raised an eyebrow. “Although, perhaps not as close as you’d like to be.”

  The prince looked at Nic as if he knew more than he possibly could. It was unsettling. Again, he wondered how much of the conversation with Cleo this man could have heard, unseen by either of them. Or was he only guessing?

  Nic shifted uncomfortably on his seat. “The princess is not a subject I wish to discuss.”

  Ashur smiled gently. “Unrequited love is a painful thing, isn’t it?”
br />   Something in Nic’s chest twisted. He didn’t like how this prince seemed to know him so well, seemed to look inside his soul so deeply. “The worst.”

  “Tell me what you know about the Kindred.” Ashur leaned his chin on his fist as he studied Nic. “I believe it’s real. Do you?”

  “It’s just a silly legend.” It came out in a whisper as his heart began to race.

  Why was the prince asking these things?

  “My father has conquered many lands filled with great riches. He doesn’t believe Mytica is large enough to hold anything to be interested in. But he’s wrong. I believe Mytica is the most important realm that has ever existed. I believe Mytica is the gateway to great magic that lies dormant across all parts of this world, including Kraeshia. Therefore, I’m here to find out if the ‘silly’ legends are true. And one of those legends happens to concern a rather special ring.”

  Nic downed his latest drink in one quick gulp. “Apologies, your grace, but if you’re here in Auranos chasing after legends and magic, then you’ll be sorely disappointed. Cleo wears a ring her father gave her before he died, that’s all. It has no further significance than that.”

  “King Gaius must know about the Kindred,” Prince Ashur continued, undeterred. “And I would imagine he wants it very badly. Without powerful magic to strengthen his hold upon this kingdom, he could be so easily crushed. Do you think he realizes this? But what does his Imperial Road have to do with anything? I believe he has ulterior motives for building it—motives that tie directly to the search for the Kindred. So many of his army patrol the road, spread thin across the three kingdoms of Mytica, leaving his castles in both Limeros and Auranos vulnerable to attack from overseas. Sounds like the move of an obsessed king with a very specific goal to me. What do you think?”

  Despite the drinks, Nic’s mouth had gone bone dry. “I have no idea how to respond to such statements.”

  “Are you sure about that? I think you have far more to offer someone like me than even you realize.” Ashur leaned forward, locking his gaze with Nic’s. The prince’s eyes stood out from his dark skin, a pale grayish blue, like the surface of the Silver Sea itself.

  Nic’s heart pounded so loud and fast he couldn’t hear the buzz of conversation in the tavern anymore. “I wish you a very pleasant evening. Good night, Prince Ashur.”

  He left the tavern and began walking through the maze of buildings and cobblestone streets to find his way back to the palace. However, soon he found himself hopelessly lost. Ten . . . eleven . . . fifteen drinks. How many had he had?

  “Oh, Nic,” he mumbled. “Not good. Not good at all.”

  Especially not when he realized someone now followed him.

  He continued to walk swiftly while long, shadowy fingers seemed to reach out toward him. He kept a hand at his belt, prepared to draw his sword on any attackers. The city had its share of thieves and pickpockets ready to kill if they thought they might get caught. King Gaius was famous for his ill treatment of prisoners, and no one wanted to find themselves in his already overly crowded dungeons.

  Nic turned the next corner and stumbled to a halt when he found himself in a blind alleyway.

  “Lost?” It was Prince Ashur’s voice that rose up behind him.

  Tensing, he turned slowly. “Maybe a little.”

  The prince’s gaze swept the length of him. “Perhaps I can help.”

  Still no bodyguards. This prince walked the streets of a potentially lethal city with no protection.

  Had he been able to tell that Nic had lied? What was he willing to do to get the truth about the Kindred and Cleo’s ring? And how fiercely could Nic defend that truth?

  “I’ll tell you nothing,” Nic said, his voice hoarse. “I don’t care what you do to me.”

  Ashur laughed at this. “You sound rather paranoid. Is that how wine from Terrea affects you? I’d suggest sticking with the Paelsian vintages from now on.”

  The lightness of the reply didn’t set Nic’s mind at ease in the slightest. His survival instincts, while currently dulled by drink, paced back and forth with growing alarm. The twin daggers the prince carried drew his attention again.

  “You want answers I can’t give you,” Nic said, disturbed by how slurred his words came out. “Answers to questions I don’t even know.”

  Ashur drew closer. “You’re afraid of me.”

  Nic staggered back a foot. “Why have you pursued me out into the streets? I can’t help you. Leave me alone.”

  “Can’t do that. Not yet. First, I really must know something of great importance.”

  The prince moved closer still. Before Nic could fumble for his sword to protect himself from attack, Ashur took his face between his hands and kissed him.

  Nic stood there, frozen in place.

  This was not what he’d expected. At all.

  The prince twisted his grip into Nic’s shirt, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss until Nic finally surprised himself by responding. The moment he did, the prince pulled back from him.

  Nic stared at him, stunned.

  “See?” Ashur said, smiling. “Proof for you that there’s more to life than drinking yourself into oblivion over a princess who thinks of you only as a friend. And there’s more to this great big world than this tiny, troubled kingdom and its greedy little king, even if it is every bit as valuable as I believe it to be.”

  “Your grace—” Nic began.

  “We’ll talk again very soon, I promise,” Ashur said, leaning in to give him another brief kiss that Nic didn’t try to stop. “And you will help me find the answers I need. I know you will.”

  CHAPTER 31

  MAGNUS

  PAELSIA

  Aron Lagaris had executed the rebel without hesitation. If not for this tangible proof of his ruthlessness, Magnus might have thought him merely a harmless peacock.

  But Aron had a curious taste for blood. No wonder the king had appointed him kingsliege. He had seen in the boy what Magnus had not. Furious, Magnus slept not a wink all night, trying to make sense of everything. It still pained him that they needed to abandon the search for Jonas for now, but he reminded himself that meeting with Xanthus, learning more about the road, could bring him answers that would lead him ever closer to the Kindred.

  The moon was high when they finally arrived at the road camp, dirty and weary from their three days’ journey across the dusty Paelsian landscape. The Forbidden Mountains dominated the skyline, jagged and ominous black and gray forms with sharp, snow-covered tips reaching up into the night itself. This, of all the camps along the winding path of the road, was the most desolate of all, far from any inhabited villages.

  The ground here was dry, cracked, and what little vegetation it bore was brown and withering. The air was not as cold as in Limeros, where one’s breath would freeze into clouds as they spoke, but there was a dry chill here that nonetheless worked its way into Magnus’s very bones.

  It made him miss the more temperate climes of Auranos. So sunny and golden, and filled with light and life.

  No, wait. What was he thinking? He didn’t miss such things. He didn’t care for Auranos. He looked forward to the day he’d return to Limeros and never look back. He much preferred frozen ponds to flower gardens.

  “Your highness . . .” Aron said, his words strained as if he’d had to repeat himself several times to be heard. “Your highness!”

  Magnus gripped the reins of his horse so tightly that they bit through the leather of his gloves. “What?”

  “Not very hospitable a landscape, is it?”

  On this much, they agreed. “No, it certainly isn’t.”

  Small talk. Not his favorite pastime.

  If they were to travel west, toward the Silver Sea, Paelsia would eventually become greener. That was where the locals planted their vineyards, the ones that grew such perfect grapes that they
were sought after by every kingdom in the world for their wine. Every kingdom apart from Limeros, that was, which had forbidden intoxicating substances on orders of the king. The king had chosen not to create such laws in Auranos yet. To do so might very well tip Auranos to rebellion.

  At the city of tents, they were greeted by a man with a bald head and a broad, greasy smile.

  “This is such a great honor.” The man grasped Magnus’s gloved hand and kissed it. “Such a true honor to welcome you here, your highness.” He nodded. “And Lord Aron. I’ve been greatly anticipating your visit.”

  “You are Xanthus?” Magnus asked.

  The man’s eyes widened and he began to laugh. “Oh, no. I am merely Franco Rossatas, assistant engineer on this site.”

  “Assistant? Where is Xanthus?”

  “In his private tent, where he spends most of his time, your highness. Since you arrived later than we expected, he would prefer to speak with you there at first light, as he’s already retired for the evening.”

  Impatience ignited within Magnus to hear such irrelevant drivel. “I was told he would be meeting me upon my arrival and now I find that he’d prefer sleep over civility? What greeting is this for the son of the king to meet only with the assistant engineer after my long and arduous journey here?”

  Franco swallowed hard. “I will be sure to inform Xanthus personally of your displeasure. In the meantime, if you please, your highness, allow me to take you to see our progress here on his behalf.”

  For a moment, Magnus considered demanding that the sleeping fool be woken, but he held his tongue. Truth be told, he too was very tired. Perhaps their meeting could wait until tomorrow.

  Franco led them to the road itself, explaining details as they walked and gesturing broadly with a flabby arm. Large swathes of mostly lifeless forest had been cut down to make way for the road. Trees with wide, brittle trunks lay throughout the camp like fallen giants. To the left the view was thick with sweaty, weary-looking men who toiled even in the darkness.

  “Over here, we have men working constantly on the stonework,” he said, “which is a layer of the road, making it flat and easy for travel by wheeled vehicle.”