Rebel Spring
Page 9
Anger lit his gaze and he spun to face Prince Magnus. “It’s very important for a bride to be pure on her wedding night. Is this not so?”
Cleo’s cheeks began to flame. “Aron!”
He gestured wildly at her. “Cleo already gave her chastity to me. We’ve shared flesh. She is not pure!”
A deadly silence fell.
Cleo grappled to hold onto her self control, but felt it slipping from her grasp. Here it was, her horrible secret kept hidden from the world—tossed out like a landed fish, flopping and slimy for all to see.
Foggy memories of a party, too much wine, a spoiled princess who enjoyed forgetting herself and having fun—and then Aron, a handsome and popular lord all her friends desired, who wanted to be with her more than anyone else. Once she sobered, she realized it was a horrific mistake to sacrifice her virginity to such a vain and shallow boy.
To be viewed now as a fallen princess in a land that valued purity as a bride’s most important virtue could be her ultimate downfall. She would lose what little power she had left in the palace.
Only one choice could help her salvage this situation.
“Oh, Aron,” she said as dryly as she could manage. “I almost feel sorry for you that you must lie to such extremes today. Can’t you simply accept defeat gracefully?”
His eyes widened so much that she could see the whites all around his irises. “Lie? It’s not a lie! You wanted me as I wanted you! You must admit that this is the truth and be grateful that I even still want you!”
King Gaius leaned back in the throne and regarded them, his fingers templed. “Seems that we have a disagreement here. The truth is very important to me, the most important thing of all. Lies are intolerable. Princess, are you saying that this boy would lie about something so important?”
“Yes,” she said without hesitation. She gazed at the king, cleareyed. “He lies.”
“Cleo!” Aron sputtered, outraged.
“Then,” the king said, “I have no choice but to believe you.” He flicked a glance at Magnus. “Tell me, my son, what do we usually do in Limeros with those who would lie to a king?”
Magnus’s face was unreadable as always, his arms crossed over his chest. “The penalty for lying is to have one’s tongue cut out.”
The king nodded, then gestured toward the guards.
Two guards stepped forward and took hold of Aron’s arms tightly. He gasped, his face wild with fear.
“Your majesty, you can’t do this! I’m not lying! I would never lie to you—I obey your command in all ways. You are my king now! Please, you must believe me!”
The king said nothing, but nodded at another guard who approached, drawing a dagger from the sheath at his waist.
Aron was forced to his knees. A fourth guard took hold of his jaw, grabbed a handful of his hair, and wrenched open Aron’s mouth. The guard used a metal clamp to pull his tongue out from between his lips and Aron let out a strangled cry of horror.
Cleo watched all of this unfold in cold shock.
She hated Aron. She hated that she’d allowed herself to share flesh with him—taking solace only in the fact that she’d been too drunk to remember much about the act itself. She hated that he’d killed Tomas Agallon without a moment’s remorse. She hated that her father had betrothed her to him. She hated that Aron was so thoughtless that he didn’t understand why any of this was so vile to her.
He deserved to be punished in so many ways. He did.
But not for this.
He’d told the king the truth.
However . . . to admit she was the one who’d lied . . .
Oh, Goddess Cleiona. . . Cleo hardly ever prayed to her namesake, the Auranian deity, but she’d certainly make an exception today. Please, please help me.
She could let this happen without protest. It could be her secret until the day she died. No one would ever believe Aron after this punishment.
Her fists were clenched so tight her fingernails bit painfully into her palms as she watched the dagger move toward Aron’s mouth. He let out a terror-filled screech.
“Stop!” Cleo shouted, the word escaping her before she even realized it. She trembled from head to foot, her heart pounding so hard that it rocked her entire frame. “Don’t do this! Please, don’t! He didn’t lie. He—he was telling the truth! We were together one single time. I did give my chastity to him knowingly and without reservation!”
The guard holding the dagger froze, the edge of the blade pressed to Aron’s pink, squirming tongue.
“Well, now,” King Gaius said softly, but Cleo had never heard more menace in anyone’s voice. “That certainly changes things, doesn’t it?”
Chapter 3
MAGNUS
AURANOS
Princess Cleo’s face was pale, her body literally shaking with fear in the face of King Gaius’s wrath.
And to think Magnus had assumed this golden kingdom would have no worthy entertainment.
His mother sat silently next to the king, her face impassive through all of this drama as if she had no opinion on either severed tongues or lost virginity. Somewhere behind that flat expression of hers, he knew she most certainly had an opinion on what her husband chose to do and to whom he did it.
But the queen had long since learned not to speak such thoughts aloud.
King Gaius leaned forward to peer more closely at the tarnished princess. “Did your father know of your shameful loss of innocence before his death?”
“No, your majesty,” she choked out.
Cleo’s cheeks began to flame. “Aron!”
He gestured wildly at her. “Cleo already gave her chastity to me. We’ve shared flesh. She is not pure!”
A deadly silence fell.
Cleo grappled to hold onto her self control, but felt it slipping from her grasp. Here it was, her horrible secret kept hidden from the world—tossed out like a landed fish, flopping and slimy for all to see.
Foggy memories of a party, too much wine, a spoiled princess who enjoyed forgetting herself and having fun—and then Aron, a handsome and popular lord all her friends desired, who wanted to be with her more than anyone else. Once she sobered, she realized it was a horrific mistake to sacrifice her virginity to such a vain and shallow boy.
To be viewed now as a fallen princess in a land that valued purity as a bride’s most important virtue could be her ultimate downfall. She would lose what little power she had left in the palace.
Only one choice could help her salvage this situation.
“Oh, Aron,” she said as dryly as she could manage. “I almost feel sorry for you that you must lie to such extremes today. Can’t you simply accept defeat gracefully?”
His eyes widened so much that she could see the whites all around his irises. “Lie? It’s not a lie! You wanted me as I wanted you! You must admit that this is the truth and be grateful that I even still want you!”
King Gaius leaned back in the throne and regarded them, his fingers templed. “Seems that we have a disagreement here. The truth is very important to me, the most important thing of all. Lies are intolerable. Princess, are you saying that this boy would lie about something so important?”
“Yes,” she said without hesitation. She gazed at the king, cleareyed. “He lies.”
“Cleo!” Aron sputtered, outraged.
“Then,” the king said, “I have no choice but to believe you.” He flicked a glance at Magnus. “Tell me, my son, what do we usually do in Limeros with those who would lie to a king?”
Magnus’s face was unreadable as always, his arms crossed over his chest. “The penalty for lying is to have one’s tongue cut out.”
The king nodded, then gestured toward the guards.
Two guards stepped forward and took hold of Aron’s arms tightly. He gasped, his face wild with fear.
“Your majesty, you can’t do this! I’m not lying! I would never lie to you—I obey your command in all ways. You are my king now! Please, you must believe me!”
The king said nothing, but nodded at another guard who approached, drawing a dagger from the sheath at his waist.
Aron was forced to his knees. A fourth guard took hold of his jaw, grabbed a handful of his hair, and wrenched open Aron’s mouth. The guard used a metal clamp to pull his tongue out from between his lips and Aron let out a strangled cry of horror.
Cleo watched all of this unfold in cold shock.
She hated Aron. She hated that she’d allowed herself to share flesh with him—taking solace only in the fact that she’d been too drunk to remember much about the act itself. She hated that he’d killed Tomas Agallon without a moment’s remorse. She hated that her father had betrothed her to him. She hated that Aron was so thoughtless that he didn’t understand why any of this was so vile to her.
He deserved to be punished in so many ways. He did.
But not for this.
He’d told the king the truth.
However . . . to admit she was the one who’d lied . . .
Oh, Goddess Cleiona. . . Cleo hardly ever prayed to her namesake, the Auranian deity, but she’d certainly make an exception today. Please, please help me.
She could let this happen without protest. It could be her secret until the day she died. No one would ever believe Aron after this punishment.
Her fists were clenched so tight her fingernails bit painfully into her palms as she watched the dagger move toward Aron’s mouth. He let out a terror-filled screech.
“Stop!” Cleo shouted, the word escaping her before she even realized it. She trembled from head to foot, her heart pounding so hard that it rocked her entire frame. “Don’t do this! Please, don’t! He didn’t lie. He—he was telling the truth! We were together one single time. I did give my chastity to him knowingly and without reservation!”
The guard holding the dagger froze, the edge of the blade pressed to Aron’s pink, squirming tongue.
“Well, now,” King Gaius said softly, but Cleo had never heard more menace in anyone’s voice. “That certainly changes things, doesn’t it?”
Chapter 3
MAGNUS
AURANOS
Princess Cleo’s face was pale, her body literally shaking with fear in the face of King Gaius’s wrath.
And to think Magnus had assumed this golden kingdom would have no worthy entertainment.
His mother sat silently next to the king, her face impassive through all of this drama as if she had no opinion on either severed tongues or lost virginity. Somewhere behind that flat expression of hers, he knew she most certainly had an opinion on what her husband chose to do and to whom he did it.
But the queen had long since learned not to speak such thoughts aloud.
King Gaius leaned forward to peer more closely at the tarnished princess. “Did your father know of your shameful loss of innocence before his death?”
“No, your majesty,” she choked out.
