Rebel Spring (Falling Kingdoms #2)(112)

This girl was mad. Completely mad. “Hawk form?”

“Yes, that is what Watchers can do.”

His eyes bugged. Watchers?

“Here,” she said. “Since I can no longer shift form, I’ll show you proof of what I am another way. Or . . . what I was until now.”

She pulled at the tapestry she’d used to cover herself. The cloth slipped from her chest and he gawked at it. Not for the reasons he would ever have gawked at a girl’s breasts—although Phaedra’s were the loveliest he’d ever seen in his life.

There was a mark over her heart—a swirl the size of his palm—like molten gold dancing on her flesh.

“It’ll turn darker in the years to come,” she said wistfully. “As my magic begins to fade.”

He couldn’t find his voice to speak, could barely find the air to breathe. Could this be true?

The hawk—the one who perched near camp every day. The one who’d followed him here into Paelsia. The one he’d tried to ignore. Had it been Phaedra?

Magic was real? Watchers were real?

It flew in the face of everything he’d believed. But seeing it, seeing her, with his own eyes—

Jonas jumped as he felt the sharp tip of a sword press against his throat. He condemned himself for losing focus, for being utterly distracted by Phaedra’s strange swirling mark and the proof of magic that caused his thoughts to become a jumbled, confused tangle.

His newly healed heart sank as he flicked his gaze toward Prince Magnus, who had silently and stealthily entered the tent.

“Apologies,” the prince said. “I certainly wouldn’t want to interrupt this.”

Jonas winced. “What a coincidence. I’ve been looking for you.”

“The feeling’s entirely mutual, rebel.”

Rebel. How were his rebels faring outside this tent? Concern tore through him. Lysandra would have to lead them on her own for now. He hoped she was having great success in finding Xanthus.

“I just saved his life and now you threaten it?” Phaedra pulled her tapestry back up to cover herself. “That’s very rude.”

The prince’s face was shadowed. “You have no idea just how rude I can be. Shall I show you?”

“Take that sword away from his throat right now!”

The sword pressed harder against Jonas’s windpipe. The barest of movements would sever it. Jonas was still so weak from blood loss, and the violent, magical healing had sapped his strength even more. He could barely move enough to protect himself, let alone Phaedra.

Magnus’s gaze dropped to the edge of Phaedra’s tapestry. “Is what you said to the rebel true? Are you a Watcher?”

“I am. And you’re the son of the King of Blood, who searches for the Kindred. Does he even know what he’ll find if he’s successful in locating it? Do you?”

Jonas let out an unwilling gasp as Magnus’s sword nicked his skin and a warm ooze of blood trickled down his throat.

“Much gratitude for the confirmation the treasure exists.” Magnus’s gaze narrowed. “I must admit, I’ve had my doubts. How exactly do I find it?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Your sister’s magic is just like Eva’s was, isn’t it? She’s the key to all of this.”

Magnus’s expression darkened. “How can she locate it? And when? Must the road be finished first?”

“Questions—so many questions.” She cocked her head, studying him. “All I can tell you is she’s in danger. Her magic puts her at great risk. If it overwhelms her, all will be lost before anything can be found—and I know you don’t want that. I believe Lucia means more to you than any treasure. And I know how to help her. Shall I tell you?”

His eyes narrowed. “Speak.”

“There is a ring that was forged in the Sanctuary from the purest magic to help the original sorceress control the Kindred and her own elementia. This ring is closer than you might expect.”

“Tell me more.” His words were sharp and eager now. “Where can I find it?”

“If I tell you, you will release Jonas and you will have your father cease construction of this road.”

“And if you don’t tell me, I’ll slit his throat right now.”

The part of her mark visible above the edge of the tapestry swirled and brightened.

The sword’s hilt began to glow orange. Magnus released it with a gasp of pain.

“Wrong answer,” Phaedra said. “Perhaps you’re not ready for my help yet. Pity. Mark my words, one day you’ll wish you’d been more amenable to my advice. Jonas, we must go.”

She turned to the flap of the tent, but escape was blocked by someone new standing in their way.

He was tall, with bronze hair that swept his shoulders. His eyes were the color of copper. He was easily twice Jonas’s age.

Phaedra eyes widened at the sight of him. “Xanthus.”

He smiled at her. “It has been a very long time, Phaedra.”

“Too long.”

“You knew I was here, didn’t you?”

She nodded slowly. “Yes.”

“But you told no one else.”

“The others think you’re dead. And you’ve done a very good job of keeping yourself hidden all these years.”