Rebel Spring (Falling Kingdoms #2)(97)

The anger swiftly rising inside Magnus literally made him tremble. The nearby guards glanced at each other uneasily. “For a moment, I thought you were intelligent. But you’re just a fool whose mouth is bigger than his brain.”

This observation received a cold glare. “Jonas didn’t kill the queen.”

More rage lit beneath Magnus’s skin. He reached out and grasped the boy’s throat. “I’ll ask one more time. Your helpful response will net you a reward and freedom rather than pain. Where is Jonas?”

“Kiss my arse.” The boy’s gaze flashed. “You think you’re so strong, so powerful. You’re not. You’re weakened by your blindness—just like your father. His greed will be his undoing. The people in Auranos will not be fooled forever by him. And they will rise up in great numbers along with Paelsians to crush the both of you. Maybe we can even convince the Limerians to join in as one great army against all who wish to oppress us.”

Magnus tightened his grip, causing the boy’s face to turn red. Brion spat, and the saliva caught Magnus in the eye. He released the boy and wiped it away with disgust.

“I see.” His heart drummed fast and loud in his chest. “You’ve chosen the hard way. Fine. I’ll get my answers whether it’s now or whether it’s back in the dungeon on the rack. Perhaps it will give me the chance to capture Jonas if he attempts to save you.”

“He damn well better not even try.”

“Time will tell.” Magnus turned away, trying very hard to maintain his mask and not show how much his mounting frustrations weakened him.

“This piece of rebel scum will tell you nothing here or anywhere else,” Aron growled. He stood only a couple paces away, watching their exchange with a tight look on his pale face. “We don’t have time to take him back to the dungeon. We move on to the road tomorrow and we can’t spare any guards.”

“This is more important, Lord Aron.”

“I disagree, your highness. Rebels are best made an example of, not coddled and questioned.”

“Did it sound like I was coddling him?” Magnus gritted his teeth and glanced away.

“This is not how King Gaius would deal with this situation.”

The boy was so very annoying, Magnus could barely form words to respond. “Oh, no? And, pray tell, Lord Aron, how would the king deal with this situation?”

“Like this.” Aron had drawn out his sword and was holding it with both hands.

Magnus’s chest tightened in sudden alarm. “Aron, don’t—”

But he paid Magnus no attention. Without another word or another threat, and with his eyes glittering with excitement, Aron drove his sword through Brion’s heart.

Brion’s eyes went wide and he gasped, a sickly, bubbling sound. Blood spilled over his bottom lip as he collapsed to the ground and let out a last hiss of breath.

Magnus stared down at the dead boy with shock.

“The king personally executed a troublemaker at the Temple of Cleiona during the opening ceremonies of the Imperial Road. You must remember that as well as I do.” Aron wiped the bloody blade on a handkerchief he pulled from his pocket. “I know he wouldn’t want this one to be handled any differently by his kingsliege. I will tell your father that you were instrumental in this rebel’s immediate execution. I promise not to take full credit for it.”

Magnus grabbed Aron by the front of his shirt and shoved him backward into the fire. The boy let out a wheezing shriek and scrambled to get up, batting at the embers that had begun to set his clothes ablaze.

Magnus was incensed. “He was my chance to find Jonas, you drunken imbecile!”

Aron sputtered, his cheeks now flushed. “He would have told you nothing more than his name! Sparing his life only made you look weak in front of the other men. You should be thanking me!”

Magnus leaned closer so he could snarl into Aron’s ear. “Pray to your goddess that we find the rebel leader very soon, or my disappointment will be leveled upon you and you alone. Do you understand me, you little shit?”

Aron’s eyes narrowed into slits as Magnus released him—both fear and hate now playing within. “I understand, your highness.”





CHAPTER 28


JONAS



AURANOS



Brion crumpled to the ground.

Jonas couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak, as he watched from the tree line, stunned. It was only a dream. It had to be. This was a nightmare he would wake from at any moment.

Then his vision turned red with hate, red with rage. He surged forward, ready to kill Aron with his bare hands—to tear him apart until he was a pile of bloody meat.

But before he could clear the protection of the thick trees, Lysandra threw her arms around him to stop him. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she grabbed hold of his face to force him to look at her rather than the sight of his fallen best friend.

“Jonas, no! It’s too late,” she whispered harshly to him. “Brion’s dead! If you go out there they’ll kill you too!”

It had been only moments. The boy he’d known since both nursed at their mothers’ breasts lay on the ground thirty paces away. Blood seeped from his chest wound to soak into the earth. Brion stared off toward the forest as if his unseeing eyes searched for Jonas.