Frozen Tides (Falling Kingdoms #4)(36)

Jonas couldn’t help but be impressed by Lysandra’s skill at manipulation. He decided to stay quiet and let her take the lead.

The innkeeper stared at her, his brow furrowed, until Jonas saw tears forming in his eyes. “My dear, dear girl. You are so brave . . . you’re both so brave. This world needs more young people like you who are willing to take great chances. Love . . .” He shook his head slowly, “It’s all that matters, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is,” Lysandra agreed. “So can you help us?”

“If I could, I would. Truly. But any witches rumored to be in this area are long gone.” His expression grew pensive. “However, I’ve heard several can be found in Ravencrest. I would strongly urge you to try to find assistance there.”

Ravencrest, the capital of Limeros, was several days’ journey from the border.

Jonas wasn’t sure he had that much time left.

They ate, they slept, and before dawn the next morning, they left the inn, with a plan to somehow find—or steal—two horses to help speed up their journey.

Jonas tried to keep his steps steady and swift and not let Lysandra know how much weaker he’d grown since yesterday.

Suddenly, Lysandra clutched his arm. “Someone’s following us,” she whispered.

Jonas stopped short, his stomach plummeting. “I’m not sure if I can fight,” he admitted reluctantly.

“Don’t worry. I’ve got it.”

Jonas again tried to keep his footing, but his smooth-soled boots weren’t made for such icy-slick pathways. They turned a corner, then another, and then Lysandra motioned for Jonas to go ahead. He went, his staggering footsteps crunching loudly in the snow, while she waited behind the trunk of a large oak tree near a row of shops, its branches heavy with icicles.

A moment later, Jonas saw Lys lunge out from her hiding spot and grab hold of a cloaked figure. She slammed her victim against the wall, pressing the edge of Jonas’s jeweled blade to the stranger’s throat.

When it became clear that their stalker had been caught, Jonas drew closer and saw that the figure was about the same size and height as Lys. “Why are you following us?” she snarled.

“Your weapon isn’t necessary,” answered a female voice.

Jonas knew her words meant nothing to Lys, who trusted people less easily than anyone Jonas had ever met. And despite her size, Lys was as dangerous as any man when she had to be.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Lys said, taking a more forceful grip on the dagger. “Who are you?” Before giving her time to answer, Lys pulled back the hood of her black satin cloak.

Jonas nearly gasped when he saw the girl’s lovely face, only a few shades lighter than her dark brown hair, set with a pair of emerald green eyes that gazed calmly at them both.

“I’m a friend,” the girl said. She didn’t seem afraid.

“Why were you following us?” Jonas asked, stepping closer. He thought he recognized her. “You were in the inn last night, weren’t you?”

“I was. Which is precisely why I know you’re looking for a witch who might be able to help you.”

His heart jumped at this statement. “Do you know of one?”

“I am one.” She looked back at Lys. “Now remove your weapon, or I might change my mind.”

Lys glanced at Jonas with uncertainty. He nodded, and she reluctantly sheathed the dagger.

As Lysandra stepped away, the girl’s expression remained serene rather than relieved or grateful to have been set free.

“So,” Jonas said, wary of this seemingly too-fortunate encounter. “What’s the catch?”

“There’s no catch,” the girl replied evenly. “Now, I advise you to stop wasting time. By the looks of you, Jonas Agallon, you have very little of it left.”

A shock of sweat trickled down Jonas’s spine. “You know who I am?”

“Despite your rather weak attempt at a disguise, yes.” She glanced at Lys. “And you are Lysandra Barbas, Jonas’s companion and fellow rebel. Lovely gown, by the way. A simple yet effective costume for one who’s clearly worn nothing but trousers all her life.”

Lysandra crossed her arms in front of her chest, eyeing the girl with deep wariness and distrust. “So that’s what you are, a spy? For the king, perhaps?”

“No.”

“And why should we believe you?”

“I don’t really care if you believe me or not.”

“I think I understand,” Jonas said. “You want money. How much?”

The girl sighed with impatience. “I’m really not in the mood for a debate about my intentions. It’s painfully early, it’s unpleasantly cold out here, and I’m only doing what I must by offering to save your life. If you don’t take my help willingly, I’ll have to force it upon you.”

Jonas’s brows shot up. For someone who claimed not to give a damn one way or another, she was very insistent.

Lysandra eyed her up and down. “What’s your name?”

“Olivia.”

“Jonas,” Lysandra said slowly, “let’s give Olivia a chance.”

“But Lys—”

“No,” she cut him off. “It’s decided. Olivia, what do you need to begin?”