Falling Kingdoms (22 page)

He groaned. “And it begins again. The princess has a big mouth.”

Her thoughts raced. “You’re going to use me to extort money from my father. Aren’t you?”

“Not exactly. A war is brewing, princess. Did you know that?”

She gasped. “War?”

“Between Limeros, Paelsia, and your precious, glittering Auranos. Two against one, which are odds I can support. I believe it’s possible your delicate presence in my land will help end things quickly and without bloodshed.”

Cleo reeled from this possibility. She’d known there was unrest—but war? “As if you’d care about something like that. I’d think someone like you would relish any chance to spill blood.”

“I don’t really care what you think.”

“You would use me against my father? Hold me hostage? You make me sick.”

His grip on her tightened painfully. “Your silence is worth any price to me right now. So be quiet or I’d be happy to cut out your tongue, your highness.”

Cleo stopped talking. She went quiet and still, as docile as she was capable of being, and he continued to lead her along the road. Past the village, it turned into a smaller muddy path. A brown rabbit darted in front of them and into a meadow with tall grass—surprisingly green for this otherwise faded, dreary landscape. She didn’t ask any more questions. She knew he wouldn’t answer them. And she didn’t want to risk losing her tongue.

Finally, fooled by her suddenly calm demeanor, Jonas let go of her arm long enough to wipe the back of his hand across his forehead.

Without a moment’s hesitation, she bolted away from him, feet quick as the rabbit’s as she left the path and burst into wide, grassy meadow. If she could reach the forest on the other side, she might be able to hide until nightfall. Then she’d find her way back to the harbor. And escape.

But before she made it to the tree line, Jonas caught up to her. He grabbed hold of the back of her dress, pulling her to a rough stop in the tall grass. It was abrupt enough that she stumbled, fell, and slammed her head against a chunk of stone protruding from the earth.

Darkness fell all around her.

• • •

Princesses, in Jonas’s opinion, should be meek, polite, and easy to manage. So far, Princess Cleiona Bellos had been none of the above. Even the chief’s daughter Laelia, who spent much of her time either dancing erotically or playing with her snakes, was the more sweet and gentle by far.

This girl
was
a snake. And he wouldn’t underestimate her again.

Jonas twisted his ankle on the uneven ground as he raced after her. Pain and fury stormed through him. If she’d just knocked out her brains so they oozed onto the stone, a weathered sculpture that he now saw was in the shape of a wheel, he would be happy to stand here and rejoice. Instead, he waited and tested his bad ankle. At least it wasn’t broken.

As he stared down at her, impatience turned his entire body tense and jittery. “Wake up.”

She stayed still.

He studied her face. He couldn’t deny that she was lovely . . . maybe even the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. But the most beautiful girl could still be deceptive and evil.

“Wake up,” he demanded. “Now.”

He nudged her with the tip of his boot but received no response.

Jonas swore loudly and crouched down at her side, jabbing the dagger blade-side down into the dirt next to her so he could have both hands free. Then he felt at her throat for a pulse.

There was one.

“Too bad,” he breathed, although part of him was deeply relieved. He studied her face, pushing the silky hair back from it. She was tiny, a foot shorter than him and at least seventy pounds lighter. Her pale lavender dress was made from the finest silk—he’d never seen anything like it before. She wore tiny blue sapphires in her pierced ears and a green stone ring on her finger, but that was the sum total of her jewelry. Smart, since any flashier jewelry to go along with her fine clothes would have undoubtedly made her more of a target for thieves. Her face was free of the paint Laelia wore, but her cheeks were still bright and sun-kissed and her lips the color of roses. Unconscious, she didn’t seem nearly the cold, manipulative, rich bitch he’d fully decided she was.

Finally her eyelashes fluttered open.

“It’s about time, your highness. Did you have a nice nap?”

Then Jonas jerked back, startled, as the sharp tip of his dagger pressed up against his chin.

“Get away from me,” the princess snarled.

He didn’t need to be told twice. He carefully shifted back from her, surprised that she’d managed to pull the weapon out of the ground without him noticing. Just as he’d begun to think she was harmless and vulnerable, the beautiful snake had managed to sharpen her fangs. She got up awkwardly, keeping the dagger trained on him, and retreated to the other side of the stone wheel that she’d fallen over.

He eyed her warily. “So now you have my dagger.”

“I have Aron’s dagger.”

“Finders keepers. He left in stuck in my brother’s throat.”

The hardness in her eyes softened and they grew shiny with tears.

He scoffed. “You can’t think I honestly believe you feel bad about that.”

“Of course I do!” Her voice broke.

“Your Lord Aron killed him without a second thought. Despite this, you’ve still agreed to marry him, haven’t you?”

When she laughed, it was a sound removed from humor. “I
loathe
Aron. Our engagement was not my choice.”

“Interesting.”

The hardness returned to her gaze. “Is it?”

“You have to marry someone you loathe. That makes me happy.”

“So glad my misfortune could help brighten your day.” She glared at him. “In any case, I have the knife now. If you come anywhere near me, I’ll be sure it finds your heart.”

He nodded gravely. “You do have my weapon. Very dangerous now, aren’t you? I suppose I should be frightened.”

She glared at him crouched six feet away from her, the knife clutched tightly between her fingers.“Tell me more about this war against Auranos you mentioned. What is your goal?”

“To take your precious land and split it evenly between Paelsia and Limeros. You have too much and we have nothing, and it’s all because of policies your greedy country enacted a century ago. So we’ll take what you have and make it ours.”

“It won’t happen. My father will never back down.”

“Which is why it’s excellent to have his sparkling jewel of a daughter as a bargaining chip. I’m going with Chief Basilius myself for a meeting with your father. We’ll see what he has to say. But perhaps the king doesn’t mind losing one daughter when he already has another who is his official heir. Princess Emilia could have been a better choice—but she’s not in Paelsia. I’m still curious, your highness. Why are you here?”

“None of your business,” the princess hissed.

His brows drew together. “Did I hear you ask your friend to continue searching for a Watcher? What kind of nonsense was that?”

Something dark and unpleasant flashed across her beautiful face. “None of your business,” she said again, then added, “savage.”

Jonas ignored his frustration and held out his hand to her. “Give that dagger to me before you cut yourself.”

She jabbed the weapon in his direction. “I’m not planning to cut myself. But I’m planning to cut you if you come any closer.”

The girl’s tongue was a thousand times more dangerous than any weapon in her possession. He’d be surprised if she’d ever held one before. Still, he watched her carefully. As much as he despised her, the view was quite lovely.

“Enough of this,” he said aloud.

He pounced on her, grabbing her wrists and easily knocking the dagger away. He pushed her back, stretching her arms up over her head, keeping a tight hold of her wrists. He pressed his body down firmly on hers, pinning her in place against the wheel. She looked up at him with both alarm and fury.

“Get off me, you beast! You’re hurting me!”

“If you’re trying to appeal to my compassionate side, you’ll find that I don’t have one when it comes to you.” He adjusted so he had her wrists secured in one hand. The other came down to press against her throat. He stared into her eyes and finally saw a satisfying edge of fear there. She thought he would kill her, despite his earlier promises.

He increased the pressure on her throat and stared down into the face of the girl who’d stood by her fiancé’s side as his brother bled to death.

“Why are you in Paelsia?” he demanded. “Are you here to spy for your father?”

She looked up at him with wide eyes. “Spy? Are you mad?”

“That’s not an answer.”

“No, I’m not here to spy, you fool. That’s ridiculous.”

“Then why? What did you mean when you told your friend to search for a Watcher? Talk,” he growled, bringing his face down only an inch away from her own. Her quickening breath was hot and sweet against his skin. “Or you’ll be very sorry.”

“I’m here for my sister,” she finally said, not breaking eye contact. He couldn’t tell for sure if she was lying.

“Your sister,” he repeated.

“There’s a legend of an exiled Watcher in Paelsia who possesses grape seeds infused with earth magic that have healing powers.”

He rolled his eyes. “You want me to believe you’re
literally
searching for a Watcher. Do you chase after rainbows as well?”

His mocking earned him a withering look. “If I have to. My sister is horribly ill. She’s dying and no one can help her. So I came against the judgment of my father to find that Watcher and beg for her help.”

Jonas processed this ludicrous story, but one thing rang out above all else. “The heir to the Auranian throne is dying.”

“I’m sure you’re thrilled to hear it.”

“You think so, do you?”

“My pain is your glory. You hold me responsible for your brother’s death, and now you know my sister lies dying in the palace and I’m helpless to save her.” Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes.

He watched her carefully, waiting for a sign of deception.

“You don’t believe me,” she said, despair edging her words. “All you see when you look at me is something evil. But I’m not evil.” She drew in a ragged breath. “I’m not!”

At first glance, she appeared so small and fragile—but the princess possessed a fierce and fiery core that could burn anyone who got too close. Even Jonas felt its heat. It surprised him.
She’d
surprised him.

“Are you going to say something or are you just going to keep staring at me?” she asked, looking up at him with those wide blue-green eyes.

He got to his feet so fast he nearly retwisted his ankle. Then he yanked her up with him and he didn’t try to be gentle about it. She swayed on her feet, seemingly unable to find her balance for a moment. She was lucky she was only dealing with a bit of dizziness after knocking herself out. It could have been much worse.

Without a word, he grabbed the dagger, shoved it into the leather sheath on his belt. He began to drag the princess back out to the road.

“Where are you taking me?” she demanded, bringing their conversation around full circle.
“Somewhere quiet where I’ll make sure you don’t cause any more trouble. You know, you really should have used that knife on me when you had the chance, your highness. You won’t be getting away from me again.”

Cleo glared at him, the fire back in her eyes. “I won’t hesitate to kill you next time.”

He gave her a cold smile. “We’ll see about that.”

As soon as he got Cleo to the storm shed at the edge of Felicia and her husband’s property, he bound her hands in front of her and attached a chain to her ankle—a long one, for range of motion—to ensure she wouldn’t be able to leave. She cursed at him, fighting him every step of the way. It didn’t slow him down very much.

“I know you hate me.” Tears glistened in her eyes. She was fueled by anger now, so the fear came and went.

“Hate you?” he asked. “Don’t you think I have that right?”

“I hate myself for what happened to your brother. I’m truly sorry for what Aron did. Tomas didn’t deserve to die.”

“You’re only saying this to try to save yourself.”

“Not only,” she admitted.

He couldn’t help but laugh at her honesty. “You think I’m going to hurt you.”

“You already have.”

“Compared to your normal lifestyle, anything would be a hardship, your highness. But you’ll be safe here.”

“For how long?”

“A few days. A week at the most.”

She looked around the shed’s interior with horror. “Here?”

“My sister and her husband have agreed to watch over you. His friends will guard the door in case you think about trying to escape. You’ll be brought food and water daily.” He thrust his chin to her left. “There’s a freshly dug hole over there for her majesty to use when she requires. It’s not a golden bejeweled chamber pot, but it’ll suffice. These would be considered luxurious accommodations for a Paelsian, princess. You have no idea.”

“You are a horrible savage for keeping me here. My father will have your head for this.”

Jonas took hold of her throat again and pressed her up against the wall.

“I’m not a savage,” he snarled. “And I’m not a heathen.”

“And I’m not an evil bitch who rejoices in the deaths of others.”

“A few days of adversity won’t break you. They might even do you some good.”

Her aquamarine eyes flashed. “I hope you’re torn apart by wolves on your trip to Auranos.”

Jonas would expect no other reaction from her. Anything less would be a disappointment.

As he moved toward the door, he looked over his shoulder at her. “I’ll see you again soon, your highness. Try not to miss me too much.”

M
agnus needed answers. And he needed them now.

He’d waited for his father to rage about the witch’s death after he’d swept Lucia out of Magnus’s chambers. Instead, all had been eerily calm. Sabina’s scorched body had been quietly taken away and discarded. No funeral was planned. No one, not even the servants, seemed to be gossiping.

It was as if the king’s mistress had never existed in the first place.

But Magnus didn’t give a damn about Sabina Mallius, alive or dead. Only what she’d told him about Lucia’s origins. He needed to know if it was the truth.

The next morning he sought his father out to demands answers but learned that the king had already left on a journey to Auranos with Chief Basilius. He wasn’t expected back for two weeks.

Sabina’s words echoed in Magnus’s mind, but he didn’t know what to believe. The witch had been a deceptive, manipulative woman—which had been proved without a doubt on the night of her death. As Magnus had watched the woman burn, he hadn’t felt a single ounce of pity. She deserved exactly what she received.

But now there were so many questions.

The king had already arranged for a special tutor to be at the ready to help Lucia with her
elementia
once it awakened. It was an old, withered woman who knew much of the legends and the prophecy. His sister spent nearly all of her waking hours now with this woman, on direct orders from the king.

His sister.

The question that burned brightest inside him was if what Sabina told him was true—that Lucia was born to a different family and brought to the castle as a baby to be raised as a full-blooded Damora. Since he was not yet two years old when the queen allegedly had given birth to her, he had no memory of this.

The second day after Sabina’s death, Magnus couldn’t hold any of this in a moment longer. He needed answers. And staring at his sister’s face across the table at dinner last night without being able to speak to her about this possibility had proved too much for him to bear. With his father absent there was only one other person in the castle who’d be able to tell him the truth.

“Magnus,” Queen Althea greeted him outside after his archery class. With war looming, his lessons had increased at the king’s request in number and intensity, but he’d been able to keep up. He was ready for a fight—and if it was one guaranteed to spill blood, it didn’t bother him.

His mother enjoyed taking afternoon walks around the palace and through the icy gardens directly next to the cliffs. When he was a boy, she’d stare out at the seemingly endless Silver Sea and tell him tales of what was on the other side—realms filled with strange people and fantastical creatures.

His mother had long since stopped telling him such amusing stories. Along with Limeros’s climate, her personality had steadily grown colder over the years. The warmer moments now were barely noticeable.

“Mother,” he said, casting a glance at the swirling white-crested water crashing to the rocks far below.

“I was about to look for you. There’s a message waiting for you from your father delivered earlier by falcon.” Her long gray hair was loose and swept back by the cold wind from her aging face. She wore a full cloak and her normally pale cheeks were bright with color from the chill.

He got right to the point. “Did Sabina Mallius steal Lucia from her cradle in Paelsia and bring her here for you to raise as your daughter?” he asked.

Her gaze snapped to his. “What?”

“You heard me.”

Her mouth worked, but no words emerged for several moments. “Why would you think such a thing?”

“Because Sabina told me so herself before Lucia set her on fire.” He tried to enunciate his next words so there would be no misunderstandings. “Lucia is not my blood sister. Is this correct?”

“Magnus, my darling—”

“Don’t Magnus, my darling me. The truth is all I seek from you today, Mother. If that’s even possible. It’s a simple answer—yes or no. Is Lucia my sister?”

The queen’s expression filled with anxiety. “She is your sister is all ways but blood. As she is my daughter.”

He had his answer. And it was as if the world quaked beneath his feet.

“But not from your womb.”

She did not reply to this.

Magnus’s heart pounded hard. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

“Because it’s not important. This is how your father wanted it to be. Perhaps he planned to tell you the truth eventually, but it was not my place to do so.”

He laughed, a sound as sharp as the edge of a sword. “No, of course not. If he said for you to raise her as your own, that’s what you must do. I wonder sometimes, Mother, if you also fear the king’s wrath. Or if you were one of the few that managed to escape it.”

“As king, your father only does what he must.”

Magnus once loved his mother, but as she sat back and allowed the king to heap abuse upon him—both physical and verbal—this love had greatly faded.

“You can’t tell her. Not yet.” Her voice was heavy with worry. “She’s a sensitive girl. She wouldn’t understand.”

“If that’s what you think of Lucia, it only proves just how little you know her. No, the girl you raised as my sister may not share my blood, but she is a Damora. With that label, any sensitivity must be burned away as soon as possible if one wishes to survive. And Lucia now has the ability to burn many things away should she choose to.”

“I only did what I had to do.”

“Of course.” Magnus turned from her and began to walk away, leaving her standing at the edge of the cliff all alone. He had the answer he sought. The was no reason for further conversation. “As we all must.”

He went into the castle to find the message delivered from the king. It was written by his father’s own hand, which meant it was too confidential to trust to a servant. Magnus read the message twice through.

Princess Cleiona from Auranos had been captured while traveling through Paelsia and was being detained there. The king instructed Magnus to take two men with him to retrieve the princess and escort her back to Limeros. The king stressed it was an important assignment he was trusting his son with, one that could turn the negotiations with King Corvin to Limeros’s favor.

While unwritten, it was clear to Magnus that his father meant to threaten the girl’s life in pursuit of his own goals. It was to be expected from the King of Blood. This possibility didn’t trouble him. In fact, he was surprised that King Gaius hadn’t thought to send men directly into Auranos weeks ago to kidnap the girl from her own bed if it would mean an easier way for him to get his hands on King Corvin’s land and gain more power for his kingdom.

His first inclination was to turn his back on this and sulk, waiting for his father to return so they could have it out about truths left unspoken.

But this was a test he couldn’t ignore.

Magnus, no matter what, didn’t want to lose his claim to the throne on the off chance the king claimed another bastard as his rightful son. The possibility that King Gaius might have eventually meant to do this with Tobias had never been spoken between them, but it hung in the air like the foul odor of a cesspit.

The trip to and from Paelsia, to the location noted at the bottom of the message, would take four days. Four days to prove his worth to his deceptive and manipulative father.

Unlike the answer he’d demanded from his mother, this question didn’t have two possible answers. It only had one.