Rebel Spring

CHAPTER 27

MAGNUS

LIMEROS

Magnus had come to regret summoning Nicolo Cassian to ease the princess’s suffering on the wedding tour. The boy despised him, blamed him for his sister’s death, and would gleefully shove a sharp blade into him the moment his back was turned.

Nic’s palpable animosity had shot up even more during the last days of the tour after the unplanned kiss on the balcony. It was jealousy, pure and simple. Clearly, the boy imagined himself in love with the princess.

This, if nothing else, could prove an amusement.

“Beautiful, isn’t she?” Magnus said casually to Nic the morning they were set to begin the journey back to Auranos. Cleo climbed aboard one of the carriages, assisted by a guard.

“She is,” Nic hissed.

He had to wonder if Cleo had shared any details of their unconsummated union with her friend. That would be deeply unwise of her. “With every day that passes I realize how lucky I am to have such a creature to share my life with. So cool and innocent on the surface, yet so passionate in our private moments. Insatiable, really.” Magnus smiled at the guard. “Apologies, Nic. I shouldn’t discuss such things with a mere servant, should I?”

Nic’s face reddened to nearly the color of both his hair and his uniform. For a moment, Magnus was certain the top of his head would erupt like a volcano.

Very amusing, indeed.

Then Nic spoke loud enough for only Magnus to hear.

“Know this much, your highness. She’ll hate you forever for what you did to Theon.”

Magnus’s amusement fell away and he turned a glare of warning on Nic, but the guard had already stalked toward the carriages.

The late spring thaw had quickly set in, one that swept away some of the snow and ice for a precious couple of months here in western Limeros before everything froze over again. As Magnus stepped aboard the carriage, he noticed that he’d crushed a small purple wildflower that had managed to struggle through the remaining frost. He stared at the decimated spot of color with dismay before a guard closed the door, shutting off his view of it.

“You look ill. Is there something wrong with you?” Cleo asked. It was the first thing she’d said directly to him since the kiss he’d forced upon her yesterday.

She’d hated it. And she hated him.

So much is wrong with me, princess. Where do I even begin?

“Nothing is wrong.” Magnus turned to look out the window as the carriage pulled away. He had no idea when he’d next return here to his true home-a place of ice and snow and small crushed pieces of beauty. “Nothing at all.”

• • •

Magnus met with his father the moment he returned from the tour. His prisoner had been delivered to the dungeons, and Magnus explained what had happened. He knew it was possible he’d overreacted by bringing the boy back to Auranos after hearing the mention of dreams and Watchers. But the king seemed pleased by his decision. The boy would be questioned further to see if he spoke truth or nonsense.

The king informed him that not only would Magnus be joining Aron on the hunt for Jonas Agallon, but they would also be journeying to the Paelsian road camp located in the Forbidden Mountains, where Magnus was to meet with a man stationed there named Xanthus.

Xanthus was an exiled Watcher assigned as the road’s engineer by the king’s mysterious dream advisor, Melenia. Xanthus was her representative in the mortal world. He did as she commanded. And Melenia commanded that the road be built and infused with Xanthus’s earth magic in order-the king was certain-to coax the hidden location of the Kindred out of the very elements themselves, which were now connected by the twisting ribbon of road.

To Magnus, it was all as hard to swallow as an entire roasted goat. Especially the fact that the king was now certain, thanks to his dream advisor, that if he took a step beyond the palace walls, he would be slain.

Even still, Magnus had seen enough magic in past months to agree readily to any chance to gain more information that would put the Kindred in his family’s hands, no matter how far-fetched such possibilities were.

Magnus did not argue. He did not debate. He did not laugh or roll his eyes.

All he did was nod. “As you wish, Father.”

By the rare and genuine smile he received from the king, this was the correct answer. “Good boy. Now, go and visit your sister. She has greatly anticipated your return.”

Considering how uncaring she’d sounded when Magnus overheard her discussing him with their father on the day of the fateful wedding, Magnus was surprised when Lucia greeted him back at the Auranian palace with a warm embrace and a kiss on both of his cheeks.

She was every bit as beautiful as she ever had been-even more so than the last time he’d seen her, since the color she’d lost during her slumber had returned to her cheeks. Today, however, there was a thick layer of apathy on top of his appreciation for his adopted sister, much like storm clouds hiding the sun’s true brightness. This apathy had grown substantially in the time they’d been apart. The conversation he’d just had with his father had done nothing to improve his mood.

“I’ve missed you so much,” she said, smiling. “I’ve already heard wonderful things about your speech in Limeros. I only wish I could have been there to hear it.”

Magnus regarded her coolly. “It’s too bad you weren’t.”

“It must have been quite a hardship to have spent so much time with Princess Cleiona,” she said with sympathy. “From what I’ve heard of the spoiled girl, I dread our eventual meeting.”

“She’s not like that at all. Spending time with my new bride has been both an honor and a delight. Despite our many differences, she makes me happier than I ever could have anticipated.”

Lucia’s eyes widened as if she didn’t hear the sarcasm behind his words. She’d always been the only one able to see beyond his masks in the past-she’d known him better than anyone else. But perhaps they’d spent too much time apart lately and she’d lost her talent to read him.

“If you’ll excuse me, sister.” He swallowed his disappointment. By now, it was a familiar taste. “I must leave once again. I only hope my beautiful new bride does not miss me too much while I’m gone from her side.”

• • •

Even though he knew meeting with the exiled Watcher could give him more clues about how to find the Kindred, all Magnus currently cared about was vengeance. Finding the rebel who’d killed his mother helped sharpen his focus like a killing blade.

The rebels, however, were much harder to track down than he’d thought. Privately, he’d ridiculed Aron’s failure to gain any clues to Jonas Agallon’s whereabouts. Now, after a full week of searching with no success, he too felt the staggering weight of failure.

At dusk, the prince’s entourage arrived at a camp set up by a unit of guards in eastern Auranos, barely an arm’s reach from the edge of the thick tangle of Wildlands, following rumors of the rebels’ shifting travels. Next, Magnus was pained to admit, they would have to put the search for Jonas on hold to journey into Paelsia itself and head directly to the road camp currently located in the shadow of the Forbidden Mountains.

Magnus’s large tent was readied for him to take dinner and rest for the night. The sun had mostly set, but there was still enough light to see. A campfire crackled nearby. The days in this particular region were warm and temperate, but at night, and so close to the Paelsian border, it cooled down considerably. The cool air held the scent of the smoky fire and roasting venison and the sound of hidden insects buzzing and chirping in the thick forest only thirty paces from camp.

“I think we make an excellent team,” Aron said, jarring Magnus from his thoughts.

Lord Aron Lagaris might now have the official designation of kingsliege, but he was a complete waste of space, Magnus reflected sourly-nor did he have any clue of the real reason they were next headed to the road camp other than for a general inspection. The silver flask Aron continually drank from was an annoyance-almost as much as the boy himself. Magnus had no respect for anyone who relied on artificial means to maintain their courage.

Magnus removed his black leather gloves and warmed his hands over the fire as he gave Aron a sidelong glance. “Do you, now.”

Aron took yet another swig from his flask. “I know things have been a bit tense between us, what with the Cleo issue. .”

“‘Cleo issue’?”

The boy nodded. “It’s best in the end that a princess marry a prince. I suppose.”

“Ah. I suppose.” Oh, this was deeply unpleasant. Being trapped into meaningless small talk with an idiot had never intrigued him, even on a good day. Which this wasn’t.

“I only hope for your sake that she’s forgotten the night of passion we shared.”

Magnus gave him a hard look. “You are deeply unwise to broach this subject right now.”

Aron immediately blanched. “I mean no disrespect.”

A hot rise of anger fought to push past his simple annoyance. “Of course you do. All that ever comes out of your mouth is disrespect, Lagaris.”

Aron raked a hand through his hair and paced back and forth, taking another quick swig from his flask. “It’s just that to wed a girl who could not keep herself pure for her future husband-”

“Close your mouth before you insult my bride’s honor with another word.” Magnus drew out his dagger to absently run it under his fingernails. Aron followed the blade’s movements with fearful eyes. “She belongs to me now, not you. Never forget that.”

Not that he really cared, he reminded himself sternly. He had not touched Cleo apart from the kiss in Limeros. And that had been under duress.

Still, Magnus had to admit the girl was an excellent actress. With his lips pressed to hers, he could have sworn he tasted warm honey rather than cold venom in her response. And he also had to admit, if only to himself, that such unexpected sweetness had coaxed a much longer kiss than he’d originally planned.

The princess was dangerous yet could appear so very innocent to one who didn’t know the truth-much like a spider and her shimmering web. Perhaps Magnus would do best to look at Aron as a hapless fly who’d once found his way into that trap through no fault of his own.

At that moment, a group of guards approached with a prisoner, his hands bound behind his back. The boy was no more than eighteen, his brown hair dark and unruly, his skin tanned from the sun, his eyes flashing with anger.

“Who is this?” Magnus asked, his gaze sweeping the fierce-looking boy.

The lead guard shoved the prisoner forward. “Part of a group of rebels attempting to steal weapons from us.”

“A group of rebels? And yet you captured only one.”

“Apologies, your highness. But, yes.”

“How many were there?” Aron asked.

The guard had begun to sweat. “Three, my liege.”

“How many did you kill?”

A muscle in the guard’s cheek twitched. “The rebels are vicious, Lord Aron. They’re like wild animals, and-”

“Perhaps you did not hear my question correctly,” Aron snapped. “How many rebels did you kill of the three?”

The guard blinked. “I’m afraid none today, my liege.”

Aron glared at him with disgust. “Step back. Now.”

The guard retreated.

What a complete jackass Aron was, spouting threat and intimidation as if he had the strength of will to back it up.

“Yes, your grace?” Aron asked evenly, noticing he’d gained the prince’s full attention.

“May I question the prisoner, or would you like to have the honor?” It was an honest question, if offered on a slightly menacing level.

Aron gestured with his hand. “No, please. You go right ahead.”

How shocking. It was the correct answer. “Much gratitude, Lord Aron.”

Magnus indicated that the guards should bring the prisoner further into camp by the fire. There the rebel stood with his hands bound, but his shoulders were squared as he met Magnus’s gaze directly, without flinching.

“Welcome.” Magnus began with a smile, one that would mirror his father’s ease, if not the king’s famous charm. “I am Magnus Lukas Damora, crown prince and heir to the throne of Mytica.”

“I know who you are,” the boy said with distaste.

“Good. That will make things much simpler. Whom do I have the pleasure of addressing?”

The boy’s lips thinned, his eyes stony.

Magnus nodded to a guard, who backhanded the rebel. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, but his gaze only grew more defiant.

“Whom do I have the pleasure of addressing?” Magnus asked again. “This can go easy or it can go hard. The choice is yours. Answer my questions and I am capable of benevolence.”

The boy laughed at this, spitting out the blood that filled his mouth. “Prince Magnus benevolent? This I find hard to believe.”

Magnus’s smile thinned. “Your name?”

“Brion Radenos.”

“Very good, Brion.” Magnus leveled his gaze at the boy’s. “Now tell me, where is the rebel leader, Jonas Agallon?”

Brion cocked his head. “Jonas Agallon? Never heard of him before.”

This boy tried his patience. “You lie. Tell me where he is.”

Brion laughed at this. “Why would I?”

Magnus regarded him with distaste. “Jonas Agallon crept onto palace grounds and stole the life of Queen Althea. There is proof of this. He will pay for this with his own life.”

Brion’s brows drew together. “I’ve seen the posted reward for his capture; I’ve heard the rumors. But you’re wrong. I don’t care what proof you think you have, he had nothing to do with that murder.”

The anger swiftly rising inside Magnus literally made him tremble. The nearby guards glanced at each other uneasily. “For a moment, I thought you were intelligent. But you’re just a fool whose mouth is bigger than his brain.”

This observation received a cold glare. “Jonas didn’t kill the queen.”

More rage lit beneath Magnus’s skin. He reached out and grasped the boy’s throat. “I’ll ask one more time. Your helpful response will net you a reward and freedom rather than pain. Where is Jonas?”

“Kiss my arse.” The boy’s gaze flashed. “You think you’re so strong, so powerful. You’re not. You’re weakened by your blindness-just like your father. His greed will be his undoing. The people in Auranos will not be fooled forever by him. And they will rise up in great numbers along with Paelsians to crush the both of you. Maybe we can even convince the Limerians to join in as one great army against all who wish to oppress us.”

Magnus tightened his grip, causing the boy’s face to turn red. Brion spat, and the saliva caught Magnus in the eye. He released the boy and wiped it away with disgust.

“I see.” His heart drummed fast and loud in his chest. “You’ve chosen the hard way. Fine. I’ll get my answers whether it’s now or whether it’s back in the dungeon on the rack. Perhaps it will give me the chance to capture Jonas if he attempts to save you.”

“He damn well better not even try.”

“Time will tell.” Magnus turned away, trying very hard to maintain his mask and not show how much his mounting frustrations weakened him.

“This piece of rebel scum will tell you nothing here or anywhere else,” Aron growled. He stood only a couple paces away, watching their exchange with a tight look on his pale face. “We don’t have time to take him back to the dungeon. We move on to the road tomorrow and we can’t spare any guards.”

“This is more important, Lord Aron.”

“I disagree, your highness. Rebels are best made an example of, not coddled and questioned.”

“Did it sound like I was coddling him?” Magnus gritted his teeth and glanced away.

“This is not how King Gaius would deal with this situation.”

The boy was so very annoying, Magnus could barely form words to respond. “Oh, no? And, pray tell, Lord Aron, how would the king deal with this situation?”

“Like this.” Aron had drawn out his sword and was holding it with both hands.

Magnus’s chest tightened in sudden alarm. “Aron, don’t-”

But he paid Magnus no attention. Without another word or another threat, and with his eyes glittering with excitement, Aron drove his sword through Brion’s heart.

Brion’s eyes went wide and he gasped, a sickly, bubbling sound. Blood spilled over his bottom lip as he collapsed to the ground and let out a last hiss of breath.

Magnus stared down at the dead boy with shock.

“The king personally executed a troublemaker at the Temple of Cleiona during the opening ceremonies of the Imperial Road. You must remember that as well as I do.” Aron wiped the bloody blade on a handkerchief he pulled from his pocket. “I know he wouldn’t want this one to be handled any differently by his kingsliege. I will tell your father that you were instrumental in this rebel’s immediate execution. I promise not to take full credit for it.”

Magnus grabbed Aron by the front of his shirt and shoved him backward into the fire. The boy let out a wheezing shriek and scrambled to get up, batting at the embers that had begun to set his clothes ablaze.

Magnus was incensed. “He was my chance to find Jonas, you drunken imbecile!”

Aron sputtered, his cheeks now flushed. “He would have told you nothing more than his name! Sparing his life only made you look weak in front of the other men. You should be thanking me!”

Magnus leaned closer so he could snarl into Aron’s ear. “Pray to your goddess that we find the rebel leader very soon, or my disappointment will be leveled upon you and you alone. Do you understand me, you little shit?”

Aron’s eyes narrowed into slits as Magnus released him-both fear and hate now playing within. “I understand, your highness.”