The thought made him smile.
After clearing the guards at the gate, the rickety wagon continued on. Once they’d moved closer to the palace, Jonas quietly slipped off. Scanning the area, searching for signs of any hidden red-uniformed guards and finding none, he began to explore the grounds.
The winds that raced across the snowy plains surrounding the palace were the harshest he’d ever felt, and he pulled on the thick pale gray cloak he’d stolen on their journey. It camouflaged him well in this monochromatic winterscape. He passed a small lake, completely covered by a sheet of ice punctured with a few holes for ice-fishing. Next he approached a gigantic structure made of what appeared to be chiseled ice, and when he got closer he realized it was a life-sized maze. It seemed a rather frivolous detail for a kingdom that prided itself on its austerity.
Only more proof that King Gaius was nothing more than a hypocrite.
Jonas stopped short when he heard the not-too-distant sound of voices. When he was sure they were drawing closer to him, he ducked behind the western wall of the maze.
“You’ve always thought the worst of me.”
“You’ve given me no reason to think of you any other way.”
Jonas didn’t recognize the first male voice, but the second was one he could never forget.
Prince Magnus Damora.
Jonas peeked out from his hiding spot by the maze to watch the scuffle play out, stunned by the good luck he had today.
Just the prince he’d been looking for.
“Your highness, I am your loyal servant,” the slender and tall young man said in a sniveling tone.
“Really. Is that why you’d try to turn the council against me?”
“Their opinions are their own. Why would they listen to me?”
Magnus chuckled humorlessly. “Lord Kurtis, you remind me of your father: a man who tries to expand his power by manipulation rather than by skill or intelligence.”
“In case you’ve forgetten, I’m still Grand Kingsliege here. That title comes with power of its own, given to me by the king himself. You can’t take that away from me, not even if you try to slit my throat again.”
“What an excellent suggestion.”
“I don’t think your wife would like that very much.” Lord Kurtis paused, his eyes narrowing. “You know, Princess Cleo and I, we’ve become very close friends.”
Jonas’s heart leapt at the name.
Magnus’s expression remained cold. “Let me guess. You’re trying to turn her against me as well? That won’t be nearly as much effort as you might think.”
“I know she hates you. But I’m not so sure the feeling is mutual.”
This statement had coaxed a scowl from the prince. “Trust me. It is.”
A cold smile now played at Kurtis’s lips. “Such a lovely, fragile creature. Have I told you how much she reminds me of a summer butterfly? So beautiful and rare—yet so easily crushed if it comes to rest on the wrong hand.”
In an instant, Magnus grabbed the young man by his throat and slammed him back against the ice wall.
“Mark my words . . .” he growled as Kurtis sputtered, his face turning red in an instant. “. . . if you challenge me again, I will bury you so deeply in this frozen ground that you’ll never be found. Do you understand?”
Kurtis stopped his wheezing and choking when Magnus released him. His eyes now blazed with hatred, but he nodded his head once in agreement.
“Now get out of my sight.”
There was no more conversation, only the crunch of boots on snow as Lord Kurtis departed.
Once he was sure Magnus was alone, Jonas didn’t hesitate another moment. He rounded the corner, drew his sword, and placed it against the neck of Prince Magnus, who shot him a rather gratifying look of shock.
“Now, where were we?” Jonas asked. “I believe the last time we saw one another, I was about to kill you when we were rudely interrupted.”