Falling Kingdoms (Falling Kingdoms, #1)(67)

First, he’d gone to Sera’s grandmother’s home and looked in the window, through a small opening in the worn canvas covering, to prove to himself that it couldn’t possibly be Princess Cleiona that Sera spoke of. Ever since he’d left the tavern, he’d doubted his own instincts.

The golden-haired girl slept upon a straw mattress by the fireplace, her eyes closed, her face peaceful.

It was her.

Fury burned inside him. It took every ounce of strength he possessed not to barge into the cottage, wrap his hands around her royal throat, and squeeze until he witnessed the life slowly fade from her eyes. Maybe then he could rest. Maybe then he could feel that his brother’s murder had been avenged in some small way.

Such a moment of pure vengeance would taste so sweet. But it would be over too soon. Instead, he rode hard to the chief’s camp and told him about Princess Cleo’s unexpected presence in Paelsia.

The chief hadn’t seemed to care. “What difference does it make if some rich and spoiled child decides to explore my land?”

“But she’s the Auranian princess,” Jonas argued. “She could have been sent here by her father as a spy.”

“A sixteen-year-old spy? Who’s also a princess? Please. She’s harmless.”

“I strongly disagree.”

The chief eyed him curiously. “Then what do you suggest?”

An excellent question. And one he’d considered since confirming Cleo’s identity. How bold and disrespectful she was—this princess who saw no harm in coming to the same place where she’d caused such pain and suffering.

He took a deep breath before he spoke, trying his best to remain calm. “I suggest we look at this as an opportunity to capture her. I’m certain her father would go to extremes to ensure her safe return. We could send him a message.”

“I’m to travel to Auranos with King Gaius for a meeting with King Corvin in four days. We hope to negotiate his surrender. You and your friend Brion will be joining me. If we were to deliver such a message, we’d do it ourselves.”

To see King Corvin’s face when they told him that Cleo was in their grasp...

It would be a small serving of revenge on behalf of all Paelsians to a selfish, self-involved king who had no vision beyond his own glittering kingdom.

“What better than to have the king’s own daughter if the negotiations go awry?” Jonas said.

Any battle, no matter how well organized, would result in the loss of Paelsian life—especially with the untrained citizens who were being recruited to fight side by side with the armored Limerian knights and soldiers. A surrender from King Corvin without the necessity of war would be an ideal outcome. The chief pursed his lips, fiddling with the high mound of food on the plate before him, even now after midnight. Jonas ignored the girls who danced behind him by the campfire as Basilius’s late night entertainment.

It still troubled him to see a glimpse of the same excess and decadence here in the compound as what he wished to rebel against in Auranos. Many in the villages told stories of the luxuries Chief Basilius was allowed as their leader—paid for by the excessive wine tax. None had a problem with it. They held him to a different standard; he represented their hope. Many worshipped the chief as a god, believing that he held powerful magic within him. Perhaps such magic could only be coaxed out with dancing girls and slabs of roasted goat meat.

Finally the chief nodded. “It’s an excellent plan. I officially give you the task of detaining the girl. King Gaius begins his journey from Limeros to my compound tomorrow—from here we will go to Auranos united. I’ll let him know the news of King Corvin’s daughter when he arrives.”

Jonas grimaced. He hated that the Limerian king—the leader of a land who’d treated Paelsia no better than Auranos had over the years—was such a close confidant of the chief now. He’d like to argue that this wasn’t necessary, but knew he’d be soundly ignored—or worse, banished from the compound and the chief’s confidence—if he did.

So be it.

“Go,” the chief ordered, “find this girl and lock her up somewhere nice and tight.” He gave Jonas a thin smile. “And try your best to treat her with respect. She is royalty.” The chief was well aware of Jonas’s personal issues with the princess, as was everyone within twenty miles of his village.

“Of course.” Jonas bowed and turned to leave.

“Once we’ve secured King Corvin’s surrender, however, you have my permission to do whatever you wish with her.” With Jonas dismissed, the chief resumed his large meal and his attention shifted to the dancing girls.

Jonas couldn’t guarantee that he’d be able to treat the princess with respect. His obsessive hate for her was palpable, bitter, and growing by the day. His blood boiled. Part of him wished he hadn’t come to see the chief. He could have killed Cleo in the unprotected cottage and nobody would ever have had to know but himself. Waiting until after they’d seen the Auranian king might prove a challenge.

But even he recognized that a permanent change for his people was more important than revenge. The princess was worth more alive than dead.

For now.





Cleo’s optimism had fully returned by the time she and Nic were ready to depart from Eirene’s cottage before dawn the next morning. She clutched the old woman’s hands and looked into her wise old eyes. “Much gratitude for your generosity. You were too kind to us.”