Rebel Spring (Falling Kingdoms #2)(98)
It was like Tomas’s death all over again—someone he loved dearly had been ripped away from him without warning by Aron Lagaris.
“Let me go!” A raw cry of grief rose in his throat and again he tried to move away from Lysandra. A stinging slap drew his attention and he stared into her furious gaze.
“They will kill you if you go out there,” she growled.
“This is my fault. Again. It’s my fault. It was my decision for us to try to steal the guards’ weapons. When they saw us—” His voice broke and he threw his arms over his face as though by blocking out the forest they could block out what had happened. “Brion was protecting me so I could get away.”
“He was protecting both of us.” Tears poured down her face. “This is not your fault. We needed the weapons. We could never have predicted. . . .”
“I need to kill Aron Lagaris. I need to have vengeance.” He drew in a shaky breath, keeping his attention on Lysandra’s tear-streaked face. She hadn’t let go of him yet. She was an anchor for him—a weight. If she wasn’t here, he’d already be out there fighting. Bleeding. Dying. He’d expected hatred and fire from this girl for this. Instead, she pulled him into a tight embrace as they shared their grief.
“You will have vengeance,” she assured him. “As will I. But not here. Not now.”
Jonas thought he might retch. He kept seeing Brion crumpling to the ground. Lysandra was still talking. He clung to her words like a lifeline.
“We knew the prince would be coming in this direction—it was Brion’s idea to track their progress, Jonas. You can’t blame yourself! Look at me.” She grabbed his face again, forcing him to meet her tear-filled eyes. “Thanks to Nerissa we know where they’re going next—and why. Now is the time to act, once and for all. This is it, you must realize that. Don’t you?”
He tried to think. He tried to see past his rage and his grief.
A plan began to formulate—blurry at first, but steadily growing clearer and stronger.
This is it, Lysandra had said.
She was right.
Brion’s death would not be in vain—Jonas would not let it be. It would mark the moment Jonas could finally see with the clearest vision of his entire life.
The Blood Road was the key to the king’s downfall.
And it was time for the rebels to end this.
? ? ?
By the time they returned to their band’s current campsite, night had closed in all around them, and the Wildlands were dark and filled with eerie noises that hinted at hungry things waiting to reach out and devour anyone who crossed their paths.
Jonas now felt like one of those beasts, like he could kill anything or anyone that got in his way.
“Now what do we do?” Tarus asked from the shadows, surrounded by the others. Lysandra had told them of Brion’s death. Tarus’s voice trembled. “They’re killing us off one by one.”
“All this time,” Jonas began, finding what strength he had left to speak loud enough for all to hear, “I’ve been searching for a way to cripple the king. To take back the power stolen from Paelsia from the moment the chief was murdered. I admit that at times I feared this task couldn’t be completed. After the disaster and defeat at the Temple of Cleiona I doubted. Doubted myself, doubted everything. For a moment, I allowed the King of Blood to defeat me.
“He has the numbers. He has the guards and soldiers. He has the weapons. And he has fooled the Auranians so much that the majority of them stand by like cattle foolishly waiting for slaughter. And now, from the reports I’ve received, the king has sequestered himself within the City of Gold, letting others fight his battles, untouchable and safe from any harm.”
“Then what good does any of this do us? How can we hurt him?” another boy demanded.
“We’ve been searching for a weakness,” Jonas said, “something that could hurt the king. Something we could use against him, to draw him out. Once, I believed that might be Princess Cleiona. That plan didn’t work out quite the way I’d hoped. It proved one thing to me—we need someone who holds greater importance to the king.”
“Who?” Tarus asked, his eyes wide.
“Tomorrow at dawn, Prince Magnus, Lord Aron, and a large group of guards are set to head for the Forbidden Mountains. We have information that they are to inspect the road camp there—a location we were not aware of until very recently.”
“Who told you about this?” Phineas asked.
“A reliable source,” Lysandra replied. She and Jonas shared a tense look. This was information they had received only days before, information that had led to them spying on the prince’s camp in the first place. Former seamstress Nerissa had taken on the mantel of rebel spy with great enthusiasm. Palace guards positioned close to the king enjoyed unburdening their souls after a hard day at work in the arms of a pretty and very friendly girl. Lysandra had not approved of Nerissa’s methods of obtaining information, but she couldn’t very well argue with her success—not when it had finally given them the key to what would be their ultimate victory.
“So we are to kidnap Prince Magnus,” a rebel guessed.
“Yes.” Jonas’s eyes narrowed. “But he’s not our only target. There is someone else at the camp who, we believe, means as much to the greedy king as his own blood. A man named Xanthus, who holds such a high level of secrecy, according to my source, that it intrigues me. He is the head engineer for the entire road and I have been assured that he is essential to the operation. He has the plans, he makes the decisions. Not one piece of stone is laid without his approval. Any new instructions or changes are sent directly from him, with an official seal, to the other camps.”