Rebel Spring (Falling Kingdoms #2)(20)

“Your group hasn’t made a move on the king himself?”

“Not yet.” The memory of the three rebels’ heads mounted on spikes haunted him, a tight, hard knot in his gut. He wanted to do whatever it took to defeat the king, but to lose anyone—to have them suffer and die at his command . . .

It would be like seeing Tomas’s murder again and again, and being personally responsible for it this time.

“Destroying murals and recruiting potential rebels isn’t going to defeat King Gaius.” Her steps finally slowed and she chewed her bottom lip, as if deep in thought. “He’s enslaving our people to build his road. Our Paelsian brothers and sisters throughout our land are being forced to work for him against their will—or they’re being murdered for trying to resist.”

“I had not heard of this.” The thought of such an atrocity made him see red. “The king spoke of the Imperial Road in his speech as if it would unite all of Mytica as one people, and Auranians are lapping it up like cream offered to a housecat.”

“Auranians are idiots.” She cast a glance around them. They now stood on the side of a busy street, away from the swell of the crowd. A busy fruit market was fifty paces away. “They deserve a king like this forced upon them, but Paelsians do not. What else did he say in this speech?” She looked at Brion for this information.

“He announced the betrothal between Prince Magnus and Princess Cleiona,” Brion told her.

Her eyes widened. “So, the golden princess is cozying up to the enemy rather than risking a single day of her pampered lifestyle, is she?”

“She’s not,” Jonas said under his breath.

“Not what?”

“The princess is not cozying up to the enemy. The betrothal wasn’t—couldn’t have been her idea. The Damora family destroyed her life, killed her father, and stole her throne.”

“And now she’s been welcomed into that family, with a gilded roof over her head and attendants to serve her breakfast in bed and see to her every need.”

“I disagree.”

“You can disagree, but it doesn’t change anything. I don’t care a fig for Princess Cleiona. What I care about is my people—my brother, those from my village, and every other Paelsian who’s been enslaved. We must mount an attack on the road immediately! If you want to show the king that we’re a threat, as you said, that we’re a force to be reckoned with, this is how to do it. We free the slaves and destroy any progress that’s been made.”

“We?” Jonas repeated.

Her cheeks were flushed from her vehemence. “Yes, we.”

“Would you be so kind, Lysandra, as to give me a moment to discuss matters with Brion?” He nodded toward the nearby line of fruit-selling stalls. “We’ll meet you over there shortly.”

“You will take me to your rebel camp?” she persisted.

He didn’t speak for a moment, just studied this wildcat who’d saved his life and shown her remarkable skill as an archer. He wanted to tell her to go away and not cause him any additional problems—since it was clear to him that she would be difficult to deal with. But he couldn’t. He needed passionate rebels, no matter who they were.

“Yes, I will.”

She finally smiled, a bright and attractive expression that lit up her entire face. “Glad to hear it. We’re going to make a difference. Just you wait and see.”

Without further comment, Lysandra turned and walked swiftly to the market. When she was out of earshot, Jonas turned to Brion.

Brion met his gaze. “That girl . . .”

“I know. She’s a handful.”

His friend flashed him a big grin. “I think I’m in love!”

Jonas couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh, no. Don’t do it, Brion. Don’t fall for her. She’s only going to be trouble.”

“I hope so. I like trouble when it looks like that.” Brion sobered. “What about her plan to attack the road?”

Jonas shook his head, thinking of the dead rebels’ blood trickling down the wooden stakes in the palace square. “Too dangerous right now. I can’t risk losing any of us until we know we have a fighting chance. What she’s proposing would mean death to too many.”

Brion’s jaw tensed. “You’re right.”

“But I do need more information—about the road, about the king’s plans. The more we know, the more we can do to stop him. And when we find that weakness, we’ll exploit it.” A fresh fire had lit under his skin at the thought of enslaved Paelsians. “I swear I’ll take him down, Brion. But right now, we’re completely deaf and blind to his agenda unless he announces everything in a speech. I need eyes and ears in that palace.”

“A few spies would be essential. Agreed. But what’s to keep them from being discovered and getting their heads mounted on spikes?”

“A good spy would have to be undetectable. A guard, or someone posing as a Limerian guard.”

Brion shook his head. “Again, head on spike. It would be a suicide mission so soon after King Gaius’s victory. Sorry.”

Jonas worked it over in his mind. An idea that had been gestating since the day after Auranos fell took firmer hold. “Then it would have to be someone already in the palace. Someone close to the king and the prince . . .”