Falling Kingdoms

by Rhodes, Morgan

  Ever since her mother had died in childbirth, the king had turned his back on any kind of prayer or worship, and his subjects soon followed suit. Emilia was the only religious one left in the Bellos family.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  “You’re young and you speak before you think. That’s how it’s always been with you, Cleo. I expect no better.”

  She ran a hand under her nose. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  “Don’t worry about me. Worry about yourself. I do. I worry about you constantly when compared to your sister. You’ll get yourself in trouble one day, Cleo, and I just hope that you’ll be all right. It’s one of the reasons I think a marriage to Aron, even at your young age, is a good idea. The duties of a wife will give you some well-needed maturity.” When she flinched, his gaze softened. “I’m trying to help you.”

  “How is this helping? By reminding me that I have no control over my own destiny?”

  He reached down to take her hand in his. “You need to trust me, Cleo. Trust me to make the right decisions for you, for our family.”

  “Family is the most important thing to me. That’s exactly why I need to go to Paelsia,” she said softly. “Please say yes.”

  His cheeks tightened. “No, Cleo.”

  Her eyes burned. “So instead you’ll sit back and watch Emilia die? How is that making the right decisions for your family? You don’t care about her. You don’t care about me. All you care about is this hateful kingdom.”

  He sighed wearily as he sat down at the table and turned his attention to the papers in front of him.. “It’s time you left, Cleo. I have work to do. This conversation is over.”

  Cleo’s heart slammed against her rib cage. “Father! Please, don’t be like this. You can’t be so cruel and uncaring that you’d deny me this!”

  When he shot a look at her of barely bridled rage, she staggered back a step.

  “Go to your chambers. And stay there until dinner. Theon!” Theon stepped into the room a moment later. He’d been waiting just outside. “See that my daughter returns to her chambers and please ensure that she makes no foolish attempt to travel to Paelsia in the coming days.”

  Theon bowed. “Yes, your majesty.”

  There was nothing left to say. There was more that Cleo wanted to say, but even she knew when to hold her tongue. All that could be gained from more arguing was to summon her father’s anger even more. He might move up her wedding to Aron to a week from now as a punishment. Or even tomorrow.

  The king didn’t believe that Emilia was dying. But Cleo believed more than she had before. She felt the truth of it deep in her heart. Only something magical could save her.

  “I’m sorry, princess,” Theon said under his breath as they left the king’s presence.

  Cleo’s cheeks were hot and her feet thudded against the floor as she unconsciously made her way through the labyrinthine halls and back to her chambers. She thought she’d been out of tears before, but there were buckets left. She cried them all when Theon left her, closing the door behind him.

  But when her tears finally dried, their departure brought a slow and steely resolve.

  The whole world—including her father—could repeatedly tell her no. In the end, it made no difference to her.

  Cleo would fix this. No matter what it took or where she had to go, she would save her sister’s life before it was too late.

  • • •

  After dinner, Cleo gathered her closest confidents together—Nic, Mira, and Theon. “I’m going,” she said after she explained everything to them.

  Nic blinked. “To Paelsia.”

  “Yes.”

  “To find an exiled Watcher to beg for some magical grape seeds.”

  She knew it sounded absolutely preposterous, but it didn’t matter. “Yes, exactly.”

  A grin broke across his face. “That sounds fantastic.”

  “Are you joking?” Mira exclaimed. “Cleo, what are you thinking? Do you know how dangerous traveling there again could be?”

  She shrugged defiantly. “I must do this. There’s no other choice.”

  Her father would be furious to find that she’d gone against his wishes; she knew that. But she wouldn’t be gone for very long. If she got the right lead, asked the right questions of the right people in the right village, then it would be a no bigger deal than her trip to Paelsia to help Aron buy wine.

  She grimaced at the memory. Perhaps that wasn’t the best example of a successful trip.

  “The thing is, you can’t tell anyone,” she said. “I’m just telling you so you don’t worry about me while I’m gone.”

  “Oh, no.” Mira cast up her eyes. “Why would we worry? Oh, Cleo, I love both you and Emilia dearly, but you’re making my brain hurt with all of this ridiculousness.”

  Nic crossed his arms. “I don’t understand how the seeds work. They grow vineyards that create amazing wine...and they also cure diseases.”

  “It’s earth magic.”

  “Ah, I see. Perhaps you can ask this Watcher where the Kindred’s been hidden for a thousand years. That would be very useful information, wouldn’t it?”

  She glared at him. “You’re looking at me like I’ve gone completely crazy.”

  His smile stretched. “You are crazy. But in the best way possible. However, you going alone? Now, that’s really crazy.”

  She shook her head. “I’m not going alone. Theon is coming with me.”

  “No, I’m not,” Theon said quietly.

  He’d been standing a bit behind her so he hadn’t been in her direct line of sight as she spoke to Nic and Mira.

  She spun around to face him. “Of course you’re going with me.”

  He looked at her sternly. “Your sister never should have told you any of this. It put ideas in your head.”

  “And now that the ideas are there, I have to find out if they’re true. Don’t you see? This is the answer. This is what’s going to save Emilia. If I don’t go—if we don’t go—she’s going to die. I know it.”

  His face was tense. “Your father didn’t give his permission for this trip.”

  “I don’t care what my father said!” Her cheeks blazed with anger. “You heard him yourself. He doesn’t understand. He doesn’t believe. But I do. He’ll be angry, but when he sees that this works, then he’ll be grateful that we went against his wishes.”

  “He only wants to keep you safe.”

  “I will be safe. Besides, you’ll be there to protect me.”

  “You might be ready to ignore your father’s wishes, but I can’t. He’s the king. His word is my command. For me, for everyone in this kingdom. Do you know the penalty for going against a direct order from the king? It’s death, your highness.”

  Cleo’s heart pounded. “I wouldn’t let anything happen to you. I swear it. You don’t have to be afraid.”

  He bristled. “I’m not afraid. You’re just being stubborn. Do you always get what you want?”

  “Yes,” Nic said at the same time that Mira said, “Actually, she does.”

  Cleo turned to Theon. “If I have to order you to come with me, I will. Don’t make me.”

  “You can order me all you like, but the answer will still be no,” he growled, giving her a dangerous look that reminded her a little too much of her angry father. “I answer to the king, not to you. He said no, so I must also say no. We’re not going. Please, princess, try your best to accept this. Anything else will only make everything more difficult for you.”

  Her eyes burned, but no tears spilled this time. She was all out of tears. Now she just had boiling-hot anger to fuel her.

  She turned to Nic. “What do you think?”

  “That’s a good question,” Nic replied. “While I’m not sure it’s the wisest idea I’
ve ever heard, I know your heart’s in the right place. You love your sister more than anything.”

  “Enough of this,” Theon said sharply. “The discussion is over. There will be no trip to Paelsia today.”

  “I wasn’t even planning to leave for two more days.” She let out a slow, shaky breath. “Maybe by then you’ll have changed your mind.”

  “Two days,” Theon repeated, his hard gaze finally softening. “A lot can happen in two days.”

  “I know.”

  “The same goes for you, princess. Think about this for two days. We can discuss it again. I hope that your commitment to this foolhardy plan will ease by then. Do you think that’s possible? Will the idea of Watchers and magic seeds seem a little less ideal when some time has passed?”

  “Maybe,” she admitted with reluctance.

  He nodded, seemingly satisfied by the answer. “I’ll escort you back to your chambers now.”

  Cleo said good night to the Cassians and followed him, not speaking another word until she reached the door to her room.

  “I am sorry,” Theon said. “I know how much you care about your sister. But I can’t go against your father’s wishes.”

  “I know. And I do understand.”

  He stiffened when Cleo took his hand in hers and brought it up to her lips to kiss it. The look on his face was priceless. She’d completely shocked him.

  “Your highness...”

  “I like you, Theon. So much. Despite any harsh words thrown between us, I know your heart is true.”

  He swallowed hard. “I feel the same way toward you.”

  “I know you think I’m a spoiled brat who only wants things her way.”

  “I never said that. And I don’t think that. You are a...well, I think you’re kind of incredible. Stubborn isn’t always a bad thing. And your love for your sister is admirable.”

  Cleo smiled before it faded. “I don’t want to marry Aron. Ever.”

  He looked down at her fingers now laced with his. “I know.”

  “What I want isn’t allowed.”

  Theon’s gaze moved back up to burn into hers. “The feeling is mutual.”

  Oh, how she wished things were simpler. And oh, how she wished she was talking about wanting Theon.

  She did want him. But she wanted to save her sister’s life even more.

  Cleo went up on her tiptoes and brushed a kiss against Theon’s cheek. “I know you’re just trying to protect me.”

  He touched his face, desire darkening his gaze. “There’s nothing else I want more than to keep you safe.”

  She smiled up at him. “Nothing at all?”

  He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. “You’re making this very difficult for me.”

  “Apologies; I’m teasing you.”

  “Very well, too.”

  “My father said that I act overly dramatic to gain attention.” She bit her bottom lip. Was that really how the king had always viewed her? No wonder when she’d asked for something so important, he’d found it easy to turn her down.

  “I don’t see you that way at all.” Theon shook his head. “You’re a girl who views the world in a certain way. You want what you want. And if obstacles are presented to you, you try to find a way around them. Or through them.”

  She looked up at him with gratitude. Considering what a short time they’d known each other, he saw her as she would like to be seen. She could only hope it was the truth. “Thank you for trying to protect me, even if occasionally it must mean that I can’t have what I want.”

  “It’s my honor to protect you. Sleep well.” With a last searching look, Theon turned from her and moved down the hall.

  Cleo went into her room, prepared for bed, and went to sleep.

  And then, an hour before sunrise, she rose, dressed, and slipped out of her room, past the sleeping maid who was stationed by her door, waiting for her to awaken.

  She’d lied to Theon when she said she planned to leave in two days. Emilia didn’t have that kind of time. Cleo had made her decision to go right away, even if it had to be by herself. She had some money with her. She would hire someone else to be her guide. Once she was past the palace walls, she’d plan her next step.

  “Morning, princess.”

  She froze.

  For a split second she was certain it was Theon who’d discovered her ruse. But he didn’t know her quite well enough to know when she was lying.

  However, somebody else did.

  Nic leaned against the wall around the next corner next to a portrait of Cleo and Emilia’s great-grandfather.

  “Going somewhere?” he asked, his arms folded over his chest. His red hair stuck up in every direction as if he’d just rolled out of bed without a care to how he looked. He probably had.

  “I—I’m hungry. I’m going to the kitchen.”

  “Oh, please. You can’t lie to me, Cleo.”

  She straightened, forcing herself not to feel guilty. “All right, fine. I’m leaving. I’m going to Paelsia and I don’t care what anyone says. Are you going to try to stop me?”

  Nic studied her for a moment, his expression neutral. “No. But I’ll tell you what I am going to do.”

  “What?”

  He grinned. “I’m going with you.”

  It had taken well over a month of trying, but Jonas had finally been granted audience with Chief Basilius.

  “Color me impressed,” Brion said under his breath as they were led along the dirt path leading to the chief’s gated, guarded compound. “You need to give me a few lessons from the Jonas Agallon school of charisma.”

  “It’s easy.”

  “Says you.” Brion glanced at the gorgeous girl who had her arm around Jonas’s waist. The one who’d finally promised the two of them that they could meet the chief. Also known as her father.

  Jonas had quickly realized that the only way he would ever get a chance to see the reclusive Paelsian leader was through his family. And Laelia Basilius was more than willing to help Jonas when he’d casually approached her at a tavern. She’d been performing there. The chief’s daughter was a dancer.

  And what a dancer she was . . .

  “Snakes,” Brion had said to him with surprise as they’d watched her perform to a crowd of over a hundred a week ago. “She’s dancing with snakes.”

  She was. She really was.

  “I never liked snakes before,” Jonas replied. “But I’m starting to see the appeal.”

  Laelia was a stunningly beautiful girl—a couple years older than he was. And she danced with two snakes, a white and black python that writhed and slid over her shapely body. He felt mesmerized watching her, her hips swaying, her long black hair—to her knees—flowing with the movements of her tanned body.

  But he wasn’t really seeing her.

  All he could see was a beautiful golden princess with eyes the color of the sea standing over the body of his dead brother and next to his murderer.

  Even though Jonas had been diverted from his original plan to sneak into the palace in Auranos to kill both Lord Aron and Princess Cleo, he remained fixated with the memory of her. He hated the royals and everything they stood for with every fiber of his being. But he had to focus. He had no choice. He tried to plaster a smile on his face as he and Brion drew closer to the Paelsian chief’s daughter.

  Before, when Jonas and Tomas had gone to taverns and made conversation with pretty girls—performers or otherwise—after a backbreaking day of work in the vineyards that added calluses to both their hands and spirits, Tomas had been the more popular one. Older, maybe a fraction better-looking. He was a born flirt. Jonas received plenty of attention to brighten his nights after difficult days, but he couldn’t help but think the girls had preferred his brother.

  With Tomas gone,
that had definitely changed.

  When he’d finally caught Laelia’s eye that first night, her gaze slid over him with appreciation. After the music stopped, she slipped a sheer, gauzy wrap over her curves and waited coyly for his approach.

  “Nice snakes,” he said, offering her a wicked grin.

  The grin didn’t fail him.

  She was his.

  Laelia Basilius had no calluses on her hands or sunburnt face like the girls he was used to spending time with. When she laughed, it was from pure amusement and not edged in weariness from a hard day of manual labor. She liked Jonas. A lot. And a week later, she wanted to introduce him to her father.

  “Come closer,” the chief beckoned as they came into view. He sat before a large bonfire. Several topless girls danced for him until he waved his hand at them dismissively. They moved off to the other side of the campfire.

  Sparks from the fire danced in the air. Stars speckled the black velvet sky. The carcass of a goat sat on top of the fire on a spit, roasting for a late dinner. The smell of scorched flesh hung in the cool night air. Laelia tugged at Jonas’s hand. He kept his expression neutral, but he was found he was intimidated. He’d never met the chief before. He’d never known anyone who had. Basilius had been in seclusion for years. So this was the ultimate honor a Paelsian could have and he felt deeply honored to be here, no matter what steps he’d had to take to make this possible.

  One thing that had deeply surprised him within the compound was its opulence. While the rest of Paelsia worked endlessly in the vineyards and struggled to find scraps to eat, it seemed that on the other side of the chief’s compound’s walls there were no difficulties at all. Part of him believed dutifully that the chief should be held to a different standard than a common Paelsian—and he was more than entitled to use part of his steep wine tax to make a private home for himself as leader. The other part felt an uneasy ache form in the pit of his stomach over this revelation.

  He sank to his knees next to Brion and they both lowered their heads in deference to their leader.

  “Rise.” The chief smiled, the darkly tanned skin at the corners of his gray eyes fanning out in dozens of wrinkles. He wore his hair long and some of it near his face in texos, thin braids, which was the traditional hairstyle for men in Paelsia. Jonas had cut his hair when he turned thirteen. Short hair was easier to manage. Brion’s hair was longer but not quite long enough to braid. Since the land had begun to fade, many traditions had started to fade as well.