Frozen Tides (Falling Kingdoms #4)(9)

“That was the general idea, yes.”

“It’s a stupid plan.” Frustrated fury rose within him, blocking out the pain in his shoulder. “You’d do that, wouldn’t you? Run off and get yourself killed trying to vanquish the King of Blood.”

“Perhaps I would. Or perhaps I’d succeed and get him right between the eyes with an arrow, and put an end to him once and for all!”

Jonas glared at her, fists clenched, livid that she’d willingly put herself into danger like this with no one to back her up. “Why would you do this? Go off all by yourself?”

Eyes blazing, she dropped her satchel, bow, and quiver to the floor. She moved toward Jonas so quickly he was certain she meant to hit him. Instead, she stopped just short of touching him, and her gaze softened.

“I thought you were dead,” she said. “When I saw you there, pinned to the floor with that dagger . . .” Her words faded as her dark eyes filled with tears and she rubbed at them angrily. “Damn you, Jonas. First my parents, then Brion and my brother, and . . . and then I thought I’d lost you too. And then even when I knew Felix hadn’t killed you, you were still so sick. Your fever was so high . . . I—I didn’t know what to do. I felt helpless, and I hate feeling helpless. But now, with this news of the king’s departure . . . I have a chance to do something, to make a difference. To . . .” Her voice caught. “To protect you.”

He tried to search for words but found he didn’t have an immediate reply. He hadn’t known Lysandra all that long—at least not compared to how long he’d known Brion. Brion had immediately fallen for her, hard, even with that abrasive attitude that she used as self-defense. It had taken Jonas a little longer to warm up to her, but he finally did, and now . . .

“I don’t want to lose you either,” he managed.

“Really?”

“Don’t sound so surprised.” He brought his gaze up from the floor and their eyes met. “And you should know that, one of these days, I do plan to kiss you again.”

Her cheeks flushed once more, and this time Jonas didn’t think it was from anger.

“Should I leave you two alone?” Galyn said.

“No,” Lys said quickly, clearing her throat. “Um. Anyway, speaking of Felix—”

Jonas winced at the name. “What about him?”

“He’s gone. There’s been no news of him, not from Nerissa nor anyone else,” Lys said. “But if I see him again, I’ll put an arrow in him, too, for what he did to you.”

“He could have killed me. He didn’t.”

“Are you making excuses for him? Do I have to remind you that he also stole the air Kindred from us?”

“And we’ll get it back.” Jonas still had the earth Kindred safely hidden away in his room. Not that he knew what to do with it. For a shiny rock that allegedly held enough godlike powers to shake the world, it hadn’t proven all that useful yet. But it wasn’t meant for him, it was promised to another. “Galyn, did Nerissa say anything else? Anything . . . about the princess? Has she been found?”

Galyn shook his head. “No. Princess Cleiona’s still missing, along with Prince Magnus. There is a rumor going through the village, though, that Princess Lucia ran off and eloped with her tutor. Perhaps they’re all together somewhere.”

“Forget the princess,” Lys said, the sharp edge returned to her voice. “What does it matter if she’s alive or dead?”

Jonas clenched his jaw. “She was counting on me to bring her the crystal. She trusted me.”

Lys groaned. “I have absolutely no time to listen to this. I need to be on my way.” She picked up her gear. “Go back to bed, Jonas. Heal. We can deal with your golden princess’s whereabouts later.”

“Wait.”

“What? We can’t ignore this chance to put an end to the King of Blood. Are you really going to try to stop me?”

He regarded her for a moment in silence. “No. I’m coming with you.”

She frowned and brought her concerned gaze down to his wound.

“I can manage,” Jonas said. “You’re not talking me out of this.”

He was ready for her to put up a fight—a fight he knew he probably wasn’t strong enough for. All he could do was try to look as strong and determined as possible.

Finally, instead of resisting, she merely sighed with resignation. “Fine. But there’s no way you can go anywhere looking like that.”

“Like what? Do I look that sick?”

“No, it’s just . . .” She glanced at Galyn.

“Everyone knows who you are,” Galyn said, gesturing at Jonas with both hands. “Your face is famous around here, remember?”

Of course. The posters plastered all around Mytica, offering a handsome reward for the capture of Jonas Agallon, rebel leader and (falsely accused) murderer of Queen Althea Damora, had ensured that. He’d been recognized several times in recent weeks, especially in Auranos.

“Fine. I need a disguise,” he said, raising a brow at Lysandra. “But so do you. A huge audience got a nice, long glimpse of you at your interrupted execution.”

She dropped her gear again. “You may be right.”

Jonas touched his dark brown hair, long enough to curl around his ears and drop down in front of his eyes if he didn’t constantly push it back. “I’ll cut my hair.”