Rebel Spring
Page 23
He laughed out loud at that and ran a hand through his messy and matted red hair. “Glad to see you too, dear sister.”
This time, the smile Cleo gave Aron was sincere. “Thank you.”
He watched the siblings with a sour look. “Remember this favor, Cleo. You owe me one.”
She fought to hold on to her pleasant expression. “Of course, Lord Aron.”
Aron smiled, pleased, at this.
It was good to know she could easily handle this fool when necessary.
The guards accompanied Cleo back to her chambers and closed the door behind her. She knew one would remain stationed outside until morning in case she even thought of escaping. There had been times she’d scaled the ivy outside her sister’s balcony to leave the castle, but in her own chambers, it was a sheer drop from her window to the ground thirty feet below.
The king might acknowledge her as a “guest of honor” publicly, but at this very moment she felt every bit a prisoner of war. She supposed she should consider herself lucky her own chambers had been returned to her. For days after the battle, they had been given to Lucia until other accommodations for the ailing Limerian princess had been found.
Seeing Nic and Mira reunited, though, had given Cleo a twinge of hope that things could change. She held tight to the knowledge that she’d been right, that Nic still lived. He could use a very long bath, but he was alive.
If she allowed herself to admit it, it did surprise her that Magnus had not demanded his head. Did he really think toiling in the stables was the best punishment?
“He’s still horrible,” she whispered. “But Nic yet breathes. I must be grateful for that much.”
Her chambers were dark. Her attention slid over to the stone wall by her vanity table, to the very location where she’d hidden the amethyst ring. Her hands itched to take it out and put it on her finger. To feel the coolness of the gold against her skin, the weight of the stone. To have something tangible that might be able to help her. Something tied to her family. To history. To elementia itself.
She would return to her search for information tomorrow. There had to be something in the library that would tell her about the ring, help her learn how to properly use it. Emilia had always spent hours upon hours in the library, reading both for pleasure and for knowledge. And Cleo had always avoided such things. Until now. She had hope that somewhere in one of the thousands upon thousands of books that lined the library’s shelves lay the answers she sought.
She wrapped her arms around herself and moved to the window to look down on the moonlit courtyard far below. A warm breeze brushed against her skin.
It was then that she sensed the presence of someone else in her room.
Cleo spun around, searching the shadows. “Who’s there? Show yourself!”
“Did you have a nice evening, your highness?” His deep voice slid across the room, wrapping itself around her and holding her prone with instant, remembered fear.
She ran for the door, but he caught her before she got there, grabbing hold of her arms and pressing her up against the wall.
“I’ll scream,” she warned him.
“Screaming would be the wrong move.” He pressed his hand against her mouth, and with his other hand trapped both her wrists so she couldn’t move.
Jonas Agallon smelled like the forest itself, of evergreen needles and warm earth.
She attempted to drive her knee up between his legs, but he avoided this attack effortlessly.
“Come now, princess. It doesn’t have to be like this. I only came here for a chat . . . unless you cause me problems.” The surface of his words was friendly, but the malevolence behind them was unmistakable. “I’m going to remove my hand now. If you speak in a voice louder than a whisper I promise you’ll regret it. Understand?”
She nodded once, willing herself to remain calm.
He pulled his hand away, but otherwise didn’t loosen his hold on her.
“What do you want?” She kept her voice low and controlled. For now.
“I just stopped by to see how you’re doing.”
She couldn’t help but laugh dryly at this. “Really.”
Jonas’s face was in shadows, his eyes dark as he scanned the length of her. “Last time I saw you, you were cloaked and armed with a dagger.”
“Yes, and that was right before you alerted Prince Magnus to my presence in the crowd.”
He raised an eyebrow. “I did no such thing.”
“And I should believe you? You worked with him before. With the king himself! You kidnapped me, leaving me with no food or water for a week, waiting to hand me over to my enemy.”
“It was three days, princess. And you were given food and water. Anyway, my dealings with the King of Blood and his ilk came to an end when he deceived my people.”
“Anyone with half a brain could have seen he was deceptive from the very beginning.”
He glared at her. “Easy to say that now.”
She’d touched a nerve. Perhaps he did feel like a fool for helping King Gaius. “Let go of me.”
“I don’t trust you. You’ll try to scamper off and alert the guards.”
Fueled by her success earlier with manipulating Aron, she decided to try the same with Jonas. Anger or demands wouldn’t work, that much was certain. She looked up into his dark eyes and worked some pain into her own. “You’re hurting me.”
Jonas laughed, low and throaty. “Speaking of deceptive . . . Trust me, princess, I don’t underestimate you either.”
This time, the smile Cleo gave Aron was sincere. “Thank you.”
He watched the siblings with a sour look. “Remember this favor, Cleo. You owe me one.”
She fought to hold on to her pleasant expression. “Of course, Lord Aron.”
Aron smiled, pleased, at this.
It was good to know she could easily handle this fool when necessary.
The guards accompanied Cleo back to her chambers and closed the door behind her. She knew one would remain stationed outside until morning in case she even thought of escaping. There had been times she’d scaled the ivy outside her sister’s balcony to leave the castle, but in her own chambers, it was a sheer drop from her window to the ground thirty feet below.
The king might acknowledge her as a “guest of honor” publicly, but at this very moment she felt every bit a prisoner of war. She supposed she should consider herself lucky her own chambers had been returned to her. For days after the battle, they had been given to Lucia until other accommodations for the ailing Limerian princess had been found.
Seeing Nic and Mira reunited, though, had given Cleo a twinge of hope that things could change. She held tight to the knowledge that she’d been right, that Nic still lived. He could use a very long bath, but he was alive.
If she allowed herself to admit it, it did surprise her that Magnus had not demanded his head. Did he really think toiling in the stables was the best punishment?
“He’s still horrible,” she whispered. “But Nic yet breathes. I must be grateful for that much.”
Her chambers were dark. Her attention slid over to the stone wall by her vanity table, to the very location where she’d hidden the amethyst ring. Her hands itched to take it out and put it on her finger. To feel the coolness of the gold against her skin, the weight of the stone. To have something tangible that might be able to help her. Something tied to her family. To history. To elementia itself.
She would return to her search for information tomorrow. There had to be something in the library that would tell her about the ring, help her learn how to properly use it. Emilia had always spent hours upon hours in the library, reading both for pleasure and for knowledge. And Cleo had always avoided such things. Until now. She had hope that somewhere in one of the thousands upon thousands of books that lined the library’s shelves lay the answers she sought.
She wrapped her arms around herself and moved to the window to look down on the moonlit courtyard far below. A warm breeze brushed against her skin.
It was then that she sensed the presence of someone else in her room.
Cleo spun around, searching the shadows. “Who’s there? Show yourself!”
“Did you have a nice evening, your highness?” His deep voice slid across the room, wrapping itself around her and holding her prone with instant, remembered fear.
She ran for the door, but he caught her before she got there, grabbing hold of her arms and pressing her up against the wall.
“I’ll scream,” she warned him.
“Screaming would be the wrong move.” He pressed his hand against her mouth, and with his other hand trapped both her wrists so she couldn’t move.
Jonas Agallon smelled like the forest itself, of evergreen needles and warm earth.
She attempted to drive her knee up between his legs, but he avoided this attack effortlessly.
“Come now, princess. It doesn’t have to be like this. I only came here for a chat . . . unless you cause me problems.” The surface of his words was friendly, but the malevolence behind them was unmistakable. “I’m going to remove my hand now. If you speak in a voice louder than a whisper I promise you’ll regret it. Understand?”
She nodded once, willing herself to remain calm.
He pulled his hand away, but otherwise didn’t loosen his hold on her.
“What do you want?” She kept her voice low and controlled. For now.
“I just stopped by to see how you’re doing.”
She couldn’t help but laugh dryly at this. “Really.”
Jonas’s face was in shadows, his eyes dark as he scanned the length of her. “Last time I saw you, you were cloaked and armed with a dagger.”
“Yes, and that was right before you alerted Prince Magnus to my presence in the crowd.”
He raised an eyebrow. “I did no such thing.”
“And I should believe you? You worked with him before. With the king himself! You kidnapped me, leaving me with no food or water for a week, waiting to hand me over to my enemy.”
“It was three days, princess. And you were given food and water. Anyway, my dealings with the King of Blood and his ilk came to an end when he deceived my people.”
“Anyone with half a brain could have seen he was deceptive from the very beginning.”
He glared at her. “Easy to say that now.”
She’d touched a nerve. Perhaps he did feel like a fool for helping King Gaius. “Let go of me.”
“I don’t trust you. You’ll try to scamper off and alert the guards.”
Fueled by her success earlier with manipulating Aron, she decided to try the same with Jonas. Anger or demands wouldn’t work, that much was certain. She looked up into his dark eyes and worked some pain into her own. “You’re hurting me.”
Jonas laughed, low and throaty. “Speaking of deceptive . . . Trust me, princess, I don’t underestimate you either.”
