Rebel Spring (Falling Kingdoms #2)(86)

“Yes, actually,” Lysandra spoke up, “we will.”

Ivan turned a furious glare on her. “What did you say?”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jonas struggle to get back up to his feet.

“Did he make the wrong choice in going to that temple today? Yes, he did. But he made a choice. And if it had been successful the lot of you would be cheering his name at the top of your lungs. Twenty rebels died today—twenty who were willing to die to have a fleeting chance of stopping King Gaius and freeing our people from slavery and oppression. Was it worth it? I didn’t think so before, but I’m starting to now. Maybe if more of us were brave enough and crazy enough, we would have gone too. Maybe if we’d all gone together, we would have won.”

Ivan looked at her with disgust. “What do you know? You’re just a girl. Your opinion’s meaningless. You should be cooking our dinners, not fighting beside us.”

This time she slammed her fist into Ivan’s jaw. It didn’t knock him on his arse, but it did get his attention. He made a move to hit her back—and she was ready for it—but Jonas was there, roughly nudging her out of the way. A moment later, Brion was at his side.

“Back off, Ivan,” Jonas growled, his expression one of misery. “This isn’t her fault, it’s mine. I came up with the plan. I gave the order. And twenty boys followed me to their deaths. You want to hit anyone? Hit me. That goes for the rest of you, too.”

“Today was a failure,” Lysandra spoke into the silence that fell. “I’m sorry our friends had to give their lives. But it’s going to happen again. We’re not all going to live to see the end of this. That’s what you agreed to when you signed up to be a part of this resistance. Every day we’re getting stronger, more skilled, and smarter. And we will be making more bold moves against the king—moves that will hurt him next time and stop his Blood Road forever. We’ll hurt him until we can kill him. It’s our only reason for breathing now.”

“I want nothing to do with this,” Ivan growled, wiping the trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth.

“Then we want nothing to do with you,” Brion said. “Get out. Go home to your mommy. If you don’t want to be here, we don’t want you here.”

“Jonas will be the death of you,” Ivan snapped.

Brion looked firm. “Bring it on.”

Ivan finally turned his back, and with a last glare at Lysandra, he did exactly what they suggested and left camp.

“Anyone else want to quit?” Brion asked, raising his voice. “Or are we still in this till the end, no matter what?”

Slowly, one after one, the remaining rebels spoke up. Tarus spoke first, his voice tentative but strong. “I’m still in!”

“We’re with you!”

“Till the end!”

Despite the reaffirmed loyalty, the gathering could never be called pleasant. There was grief. There were sadness and tears. But at least it wasn’t an ending, Lysandra thought. It was a new beginning, a commitment to the cause, forged from blood and loss.

Jonas turned to Lysandra, his brows drawn together. “Never thought you’d stand up for me.”

“I wasn’t standing up for you.” She threw a stick into the crackling fire and then shook out her aching hand and rubbed her knuckles. “I’ve just been wanting to punch Ivan in his ugly face for a while.”

“That makes more sense, actually.”

She took a deep breath and turned to face him. “But hear me on this, Jonas. You will take my plans seriously from now on. We must attack the Blood Road. We must shut it down. My fate lies on that road—my fate and the fate of our people.”

He was silent, but then he nodded. “You’re right. I’ll listen to you.”

“Don’t make a mistake like this again, Agallon.”

His jaw tightened. “I’ll try.”

“Try very hard or we’re going to have a problem, you and me.”

“Understood.” He held her gaze intently a moment longer, as if searching for something deeper in her eyes. She was the first to look away.

Jonas then clasped Brion’s shoulder for an unspoken moment. It had been awkward between the two for days ever since their argument. Brion hesitated not at all before gripping Jonas in a bear hug. Jonas’s dark, pain-filled eyes lightened for the briefest of moments in relief before he moved off to tend his wounds.

“You two all right?” Lysandra asked.

Brion shrugged. “Maybe.”

“You’re like a brother to him.”

“The feeling’s mutual.”

“I’m glad you were mad at him before today.” She crossed her arms tightly and looked directly at Brion. “If everything had been good between you, you would have been by his side at the temple. And you could have died.”

“Good point.” There was something stiff about his expression that she didn’t understand. It wasn’t grief, it was . . . frustration. “I guess I understand things better now.”

“What things?”

“The way you look at me.” Brion shrugged. “It’s not nearly the same as the way you look at Jonas. You’re in love with him.”

She gaped at him. “Twenty of us died today and this is your brilliant observation of the night? You need to pull your head from your arse and focus on what’s important.”