Rebel Spring

by Morgan Rhodes

  “I want nothing to do with this,” Ivan growled, wiping the trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth.

  “Then we want nothing to do with you,” Brion said. “Get out. Go home to your mommy. If you don’t want to be here, we don’t want you here.”

  “Jonas will be the death of you,” Ivan snapped.

  Brion looked firm. “Bring it on.”

  Ivan finally turned his back, and with a last glare at Lysandra, he did exactly what they suggested and left camp.

  “Anyone else want to quit?” Brion asked, raising his voice. “Or are we still in this till the end, no matter what?”

  Slowly, one after one, the remaining rebels spoke up. Tarus spoke first, his voice tentative but strong. “I’m still in!”

  “We’re with you!”

  “Till the end!”

  Despite the reaffirmed loyalty, the gathering could never be called pleasant. There was grief. There were sadness and tears. But at least it wasn’t an ending, Lysandra thought. It was a new beginning, a commitment to the cause, forged from blood and loss.

  Jonas turned to Lysandra, his brows drawn together. “Never thought you’d stand up for me.”

  “I wasn’t standing up for you.” She threw a stick into the crackling fire and then shook out her aching hand and rubbed her knuckles. “I’ve just been wanting to punch Ivan in his ugly face for a while.”

  “That makes more sense, actually.”

  She took a deep breath and turned to face him. “But hear me on this, Jonas. You will take my plans seriously from now on. We must attack the Blood Road. We must shut it down. My fate lies on that road—my fate and the fate of our people.”

  He was silent, but then he nodded. “You’re right. I’ll listen to you.”

  “Don’t make a mistake like this again, Agallon.”

  His jaw tightened. “I’ll try.”

  “Try very hard or we’re going to have a problem, you and me.”

  “Understood.” He held her gaze intently a moment longer, as if searching for something deeper in her eyes. She was the first to look away.

  Jonas then clasped Brion’s shoulder for an unspoken moment. It had been awkward between the two for days ever since their argument. Brion hesitated not at all before gripping Jonas in a bear hug. Jonas’s dark, pain-filled eyes lightened for the briefest of moments in relief before he moved off to tend his wounds.

  “You two all right?” Lysandra asked.

  Brion shrugged. “Maybe.”

  “You’re like a brother to him.”

  “The feeling’s mutual.”

  “I’m glad you were mad at him before today.” She crossed her arms tightly and looked directly at Brion. “If everything had been good between you, you would have been by his side at the temple. And you could have died.”

  “Good point.” There was something stiff about his expression that she didn’t understand. It wasn’t grief, it was . . . frustration. “I guess I understand things better now.”

  “What things?”

  “The way you look at me.” Brion shrugged. “It’s not nearly the same as the way you look at Jonas. You’re in love with him.”

  She gaped at him. “Twenty of us died today and this is your brilliant observation of the night? You need to pull your head from your arse and focus on what’s important.”

  Lysandra walked away from him angrily, not knowing how to deal with such an asinine accusation. She did realize, however, that she had not tried to deny it.

  CHAPTER 25

  CLEO

  AURANOS

  Aron was present at dawn as Cleo prepared herself to leave for the dreaded wedding tour.

  “May you have a safe journey, princess,” he said, accompanying her through the halls toward the waiting carriages. “I will be leading the charge to find the murderer of the queen while you’re gone. Prince Magnus will join me on the hunt the moment he returns if the rebel is still at large.”

  Leading the charge? Aron? “Obviously the king has great faith in your abilities as kingsliege.”

  “He does. More than you know.” Aron leaned closer to speak confidentially. “I couldn’t help but notice that the prince left your wedding chambers last night only minutes after entering. Is there a problem already in your joyous union?”

  “None at all.” She fixed a bland smile on her lips. “I shall miss you while I’m away, Lord Aron. You are so very amusing to me.”

  He frowned. “Cleo—”

  “It’s Princess Cleiona. Take care to remember my official title, especially now that I’m happily married to the king’s son. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

  She brushed past him and continued to the carriage without further delay.

  What a jackass. It did give her comfort to know that he was part of the hunt for Jonas; that Jonas had even been pinpointed as the queen’s murderer was ridiculous. They were only looking for a reason to kill the rebel leader with full support of any citizens who might see him, and they’d found it. But with such ineptitude and with Aron “leading the charge,” the rebel leader would surely remain free forever.

  I will see you again, rebel, she thought. Someday. Somewhere. Till then, please be safe.

  And so the wedding tour began. They were scheduled to wind through Auranos before moving on to Paelsia and Limeros. From town to town, the appearances varied only slightly. Cleo and Magnus emerged before a gathered crowd, usually an enthusiastic one, before listening graciously to mayors’ speeches and bards’ ballads. In a village on the southern coast of Auranos, a small group of children performed a skit for Cleo and Magnus’s amusement. The children were adorable and so excited about this royal visit, and Cleo tried her very best to appear attentive and enthusiastic. Magnus, however, just looked bored with all of it and already impatient for the tour to be over so he could join Aron and the king’s soldiers on the hunt for Jonas.

  After the skit was over, there was a greeting line. Cleo performed her actions by habit until one woman clutched Cleo’s hand and looked into her eyes with worry.

  “Are you all right, princess?” she whispered so no one except Cleo could hear.

  A lump immediately formed in Cleo’s throat, but she tried to smile. “Yes, of course. I am perfectly well. Much gratitude for your village’s warm welcome to me and my—and the prince.”

  She couldn’t call him husband.

  All across her beloved Auranos, most citizens welcomed the royal couple with great fanfare, exactly as the king had predicted. But in every crowd there were a few disbelievers—those who clung to sidelines and shadows, signs of dread and suspicion in their eyes. They knew, Cleo saw, that this union was not as glorious or exciting as their neighbors believed. They knew that the king was not to be trusted—that his words were just that, and promises could be broken as easily as bones.

  How she wished she could assure this small but noticeable percentage that one day she would change things for the better—for everyone. But no, she had to play the part of a young princess in love with her new husband in order to ensure her own survival.

  There was a bright side. While away from the palace, she realized, she’d have another, better chance to gather information about local folklore and legends; she would learn more about the Kindred and how her ring could play a part in finding it—all under Magnus’s nose.

  The thought warmed her at night and helped keep her spirits high during the day. Still, for a journey surrounded by attendants and guards, not to mention the sullen, untalkative prince, she quickly became desperately lonely.

  It was at King’s Harbor, where they were about to board a ship to take them to Trader’s Harbor in Paelsia, that she spotted Nic standing on the dock by the large black ship that rose from the water like a sea monster. He wore his red uniform like every other Limerian guard who’d accompanied Cleo and Magnus on this journey. His carrot-red
hair stuck up in every direction. And he had a huge grin on his face.

  Cleo’s mouth fell open at the sight of her dearest friend, but she stopped herself from immediately running to him and throwing herself into his arms.

  “Something wrong, princess?” Magnus asked.

  “It’s just . . . Nic.” Her heart pounded. “He’s here.”

  “Yes, he is.”

  “You’re not surprised?”

  “No. I requested it.”

  She turned to stare at him with shock and suspicion. “Why?”

  He shrugged. “Your misery has been palpable for days, and it reflects poorly on me. For some reason, you value the presence of this fool. So here he is for the rest of the tour until I can finally get back to the castle and head out on a journey that really matters to me. He can handle our luggage and clean up after the horses. I’m sure I’ll find many interesting uses for him.”

  Disbelief clouded her thoughts. “You summoned him here so I wouldn’t be miserable.”

  Magnus’s upper lip thinned. “I need you to keep up your end of the bargain as we continue to feed these stupid people my father’s pretty lies. That’s all.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered, her throat tight at the thought that he’d do something so unexpectedly kind, despite his harsh words.

  He offered her the barest edge of a glance. “Save your gratitude. I don’t need it.”

  She sent a glare in his direction, but it was wasted. He’d already moved away to speak with a guard near the ship.

  Cleo approached Nic as regally as possible but couldn’t keep her grin from spreading. “You’re here.”

  He smiled too, far too broadly to appear professional. “On royal orders.”

  “Well, I’m so glad you’re being royally ordered around.”

  “In this instance, I’d have to agree.”

  With Nic in tow, the journey continued on to Paelsia, and they toured through several villages and vineyards—though never coming near the Imperial Road, Cleo noticed. The poor villagers gathered to watch silently. Cleo’s presence did coax some children out of their homes, and they were fascinated by her beautiful and colorful dresses. The children’s eyes were filled with the boundless hope their elders lacked. Noticing this broke Cleo’s heart.

  Paelsians were not fooled as Auranians were by anything the king said. These people had already seen his deception, his cruelty, with their own eyes. Such things could not be forgotten or forgiven.

  By the time their entourage sailed up the coast to Limeros’s Black Harbor, Cleo was dismayed that she’d learned nothing useful about her ring, which sat heavy on her finger as it had since she first left the City of Gold. Nor had she learned anything more than repeated stories about the Kindred. The time to find such information grew shorter with every day that passed, and her anxiety increased.

  Now that their journey had reached Limeros, Cleo had to bundle up in a thick ermine-lined cloak to keep out the chill of the frigid, frozen landscape. Where Auranos had a palace that literally sparkled like a jewel under the bright sunshine, the Limerian castle seemed to absorb light, killing it on contact. It was large and black and ominous, its spires rising up into the cold sky like the claws of a demon. Its windows were the only things that reflected light, much like the eyes of some ravenous beast.

  Magnus’s true home suited him perfectly.

  “Is that all of them?” Magnus asked, eyeing the trunks that Nic had unloaded from the carriages.

  “It is, your grace.” To his credit, Nic managed to say this without sounding sarcastic. Sweat coated Nic’s brow after he’d single-handedly dragged all their luggage chests into the castle.

  “Good. Now go see to the horses. I must check if there are any messages waiting for me here from my father.” He turned on the heels of his black leather boots and stalked off down the hall without another word.

  “I hate him,” Nic snarled.

  “So do I,” Cleo replied.

  “Could have fooled me by how much you’ve been snuggling up to him on this trip.”

  She grabbed his arm as he was about to walk away, digging her fingers in until he looked at her again. “Anything you think you see between us is for show only. Remember that.”

  Nic’s shoulders slumped. “Apologies, Cleo. Of course I know that. This all must be so hard for you.”

  “Thank the goddess you’re here with me.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Oh?”

  She grinned, his hurtful words already forgotten. “I mean, who else would carry my chests of gowns so well?”

  He laughed as she pulled him into a tight hug, never wanting to let him go. “I’m here for you, Cleo. Whenever you need me.”

  She nodded, pressing her face against the rough fabric of his uniform. “I know.”

  “You’re so brave—spending time with that monster. Forced to share his bed.” A look of hatred crossed his face as he leaned back from her. “Every night I imagine killing him for you.”

  Cleo grabbed hold of Nic’s hands, squeezing them tightly in hers. “Don’t worry about me. I can handle the prince.” She wanted to tell him that Magnus did not share her bed and that she spent every night alone, but she held her tongue. No one, not even Nic, could know such things. “Please rest up so you can be by my side tomorrow. I need all the support I can get.”

  “I’ll rest up. As soon as I take care of the horses for his majesty.”

  “See you tomorrow.” She went up on her tiptoes to kiss Nic’s cheek. At the last moment he turned his face so she kissed his lips instead.

  This earned her a newly brightened ear-to-ear grin. “Till tomorrow, princess.”

  • • •

  After a sleepless night, she’d been woken early by Dora and Helena, who were just as disrespectful to her here as they were at the Auranian castle. They helped her dress and look presentable. She wore a new fur-lined cloak draped over one of her finest new gowns. This, as well as the cloak, was red, to pay tribute to the

  official color of Limeros. The color of blood. Likely, not a coincidence at all. On the sleeves of the gown, golden snakes were embroidered, the kingdom’s sigil. Also appropriate for a kingdom filled to overflowing with serpents.

  Outside the castle, following in Magnus’s footsteps, she turned a distracted glance toward the gathered nobles who’d joined them today for an official presentation of a wedding gift by Lord Gareth, a close friend of the king’s. To their left was a pathway that wound through the ice gardens and into an intricate labyrinth of frost-covered hedges. To the right was a large clearing with a long, rectangular frozen pond, which led toward the castle itself. Beautiful but stark and pristine. Not an ounce of warmth existed in any direction.

  “This is said to have belonged to the Watchers themselves.”

  Her gaze immediately snapped back to Lord Gareth. She finally noticed the object they had halted near, the gift from Lord Gareth. It was a carved stone wheel taller than Cleo’s shoulder that protruded from the frozen ground at the entrance to the gardens.

  “What about the Watchers?” she asked, struggling to keep her voice steady.

  “Oh yes,” Magnus said. “Please tell us. It’s all so fascinating.”

  It was rare that the prince said anything that didn’t mock whomever he spoke with. It was equally rare, she’d found, that anyone caught on to this as easily as she did.

  Cleo remembered the rebel boy, Tarus, mentioning stone wheels that were associated with the Watchers and the Sanctuary. This couldn’t possibly be the same thing. Could it?

  The balding but distinguished-looking lord clasped his hands in front of him, rocking on his heels, seemingly pleased he now had the royal couple’s full attention. “The Watchers watch us in the form of hawks.”

  “A child’s tale I’ve heard a thousand times,” Magnus said, dismissively.

 
; “Is it? Or is it true?” The lord appeared to welcome the chance to debate this. “Magic is very real, your highness.”

  Magnus watched him, his gaze steady. “What makes you believe that?”

  “I’ve seen many things that can’t be explained. I’ve met witches who can reach into themselves and use small pieces of elementia to create magic in the mortal world.”

  Every piece of Cleo’s attention was now focused entirely on this man. This was it. This man could be the one to tell her what she needed to know most. “Is the Kindred real? I’ve heard stories about the elemental crystals, but they could just be legend.”

  He glanced at her. “I believe it’s true. There is a whispered prophecy that says when the sorceress is reborn, she will be the one who leads the way to the Kindred.”

  Cleo listened intently. A sorceress would lead the way? There was one thing she believed most of all—that the ring she now wore had once belonged to the sorceress Eva.

  What did this mean?

  The skies were gray today and snowflakes began to fall, speckling Cleo’s red cloak and the clothes of the nearby dignitaries with dots of white.

  “Tell us more about this wheel, Lord Gareth,” Magnus said.

  Heart pounding, she twisted her hands together, feeling the cool surface of her amethyst ring beneath her touch. She glanced toward Nic, who stood stiffly next to the other guards, as still as statues. His disdainful gaze was fixed entirely on Magnus.

  The man moved toward the wheel and slid his hand over the curve of it. “Wheels identical to this are scattered across Mytica. For centuries no one has understood what they are and where they come from. Only that they’re very old and somehow connected to the Watchers.”