The king had departed, to who-knows-where.
Nerissa was gone.
Prince Magnus was on the throne in Limeros.
And Princess Cleo was with him.
The hour was up, but Lysandra wasn’t at the meeting place. Suddenly, he heard a loud shriek coming from somewhere close by.
Lys.
Jonas’s legs were weak but still he ran toward the sound, drawing his sword with his right hand.
“Lys!” he yelled as he reached the edge of the village, ready to protect Lysandra from attackers, to fight as hard as he had to to keep her alive.
When he turned a corner he saw her standing there, her chest heaving, her skirts dirty. Two young men lay on the ground in front of her, groaning with pain.
Lys turned to Jonas, her cheeks bright with color, her eyes wild. “This is why I don’t wear gowns! It brings about the wrong sort of attention—attention I don’t want!”
“I . . . uh . . .” Jonas shocked at the sight, stumbled over his words.
“This pile of dung”—she kicked the buttocks of one of the groaning men—“tried to grab my chest! And this one”—a sharp kick to the other—“laughed and cheered him on! I’m never wearing a dress again. I don’t care if King Gaius himself recognizes me.”
Jonas felt half-appalled, half-delighted as one of the young men looked up at him in agony. “Get her away from us,” he moaned to Jonas.
“Gladly.” Jonas took Lysandra’s arm and pulled her back around the corner and onto a main street.
“You never fail to amaze me, you know that?” Jonas said to Lysandra as they walked. “I thought you were in serious danger.”
“Insulted and annoyed, perhaps, but not—”
Jonas pulled her closer and gave her a quick, hard kiss on her lips, smiling. “You’re amazing. Never forget it.”
The bright color had returned to her cheeks as she touched her mouth. “You’re lucky I’m all right with you, or you’d be on the ground, too, for taking me by surprise like that.”
“Very lucky,” he agreed, still grinning.
She bit her bottom lip. “Now, um, what’s going on? I couldn’t get a helpful word from anyone around here. What about you? Anything?”
“Yes, I learned plenty.” He told her about Bruno, about the king’s departure, and that Magnus and Cleo were in Limeros, soon to be joined by Nerissa.
Lysandra swore under her breath. “So, what now? Should we get on a ship and try to go after the king?”
He shook his head. “Too late for that. But luckily we’ve got something just as important to do instead.”
Her gaze dropped to his shoulder. “Find someone who can heal your wound?”
Jonas knew he couldn’t hide his feverish face and weakness from her, so he didn’t bother trying anymore. Whether they could find someone skilled enough to help him in time, though—that was the question.
“If we can find a proper healer, then yes.” He set his chin and looked into her light brown eyes with determination. “And then we’re going to Limeros to rescue a princess and kill a prince.”
CHAPTER 8
MAGNUS
LIMEROS
His father used to insist that Magnus sat in on royal council meetings when he was younger, although he hadn’t paid much attention to them. He regretted that now as he tried very hard not to drown in a sea of complicated political dilemmas and decisions.