Rebel Spring (Falling Kingdoms #2)(23)

“And you confuse yourself with someone who has any.”

“Working knee deep in horse shit is his punishment. Although, if you ask me, he should be dead for what he did to Prince Magnus.”

The memory tore through her mind before she could try to stop it. Theon’s broken body, his eyes staring upward, unseeing. Magnus with blood on his face from where she’d clawed him as he tried to wrench her to her feet. Nic, throwing a rock to stop him, which met its mark. Cleo had taken a heavy sword and very nearly plunged it into the prince’s chest while he was disoriented, but Nic feared the ultimate repercussions of such an act and stopped her. He’d knocked Magnus out cold so he couldn’t follow them.

I’m so sorry, Theon. I’m so . . . so sorry. I led you to your death, and then couldn’t avenge you.

Her eyes burned, but she didn’t cry. She needed Theon’s memory, the recollection of his strength, his confident belief in her, to aid her now. Tears wouldn’t help. Commands wouldn’t help. Aron was right, she had no power here anymore. No influence.

However . . .

She turned toward Aron—this time with a smile.

“Come on, Aron,” she almost purred. “You were once our friend—our good friend. Can’t you find that within yourself again? Not everything has changed, has it? Mira thought her brother was dead. Don’t keep them apart. Please.”

Aron might have expected rage from her but clearly didn’t know what to do with cordiality. He hesitated for a moment, nonplussed, before he finally nodded at the guard who held Mira. The guard released her and Mira ran directly into Nic’s arms.

“We couldn’t find you anywhere,” she said, choked. “I was so worried about you!”

“Oh, Mira.” Nic gripped his sister tightly, snorting softly into her long hair. “Honestly? I was worried about me too.”

She pulled back from him a little and scrunched her nose. “You stink!”

He laughed out loud at that and ran a hand through his messy and matted red hair. “Glad to see you too, dear sister.”

This time, the smile Cleo gave Aron was sincere. “Thank you.”

He watched the siblings with a sour look. “Remember this favor, Cleo. You owe me one.”

She fought to hold on to her pleasant expression. “Of course, Lord Aron.”

Aron smiled, pleased, at this.

It was good to know she could easily handle this fool when necessary.

? ? ?

The guards accompanied Cleo back to her chambers and closed the door behind her. She knew one would remain stationed outside until morning in case she even thought of escaping. There had been times she’d scaled the ivy outside her sister’s balcony to leave the castle, but in her own chambers, it was a sheer drop from her window to the ground thirty feet below.

The king might acknowledge her as a “guest of honor” publicly, but at this very moment she felt every bit a prisoner of war. She supposed she should consider herself lucky her own chambers had been returned to her. For days after the battle, they had been given to Lucia until other accommodations for the ailing Limerian princess had been found.

Seeing Nic and Mira reunited, though, had given Cleo a twinge of hope that things could change. She held tight to the knowledge that she’d been right, that Nic still lived. He could use a very long bath, but he was alive.

If she allowed herself to admit it, it did surprise her that Magnus had not demanded his head. Did he really think toiling in the stables was the best punishment?

“He’s still horrible,” she whispered. “But Nic still breathes. I must be grateful for that much.”

Her chambers were dark. Her attention slid over to the stone wall by her vanity table, to the very location where she’d hidden the amethyst ring. Her hands itched to take it out and put it on her finger. To feel the coolness of the gold against her skin, the weight of the stone. To have something tangible that might be able to help her. Something tied to her family. To history. To elementia itself.

She would return to her search for information tomorrow. There had to be something in the library that would tell her about the ring, help her learn how to properly use it. Emilia had always spent hours upon hours in the library, reading both for pleasure and for knowledge. And Cleo had always avoided such things. Until now. She had hope that somewhere in one of the thousands upon thousands of books that lined the library’s shelves lay the answers she sought.

She wrapped her arms around herself and moved to the window to look down on the moonlit courtyard far below. A warm breeze brushed against her skin.

It was then that she sensed the presence of someone else in her room.

Cleo spun around, searching the shadows. “Who’s there? Show yourself!”

“Did you have a nice evening, your highness?” His deep voice slid across the room, wrapping itself around her and holding her prone with instant, remembered fear.

She ran for the door, but he caught her before she got there, grabbing hold of her arms and pressing her up against the wall.

“I’ll scream,” she warned him.

“Screaming would be the wrong move.” He pressed one hand against her mouth and with his other hand trapped both her wrists so she couldn’t move.

Jonas Agallon smelled like the forest itself, of evergreen needles and warm earth.

She attempted to drive her knee up between his legs, but he avoided this attack effortlessly.