Jonas stared at the prince, astonished, as the guards unlocked his heavy chains. Then they did the same to Lysandra and Olivia before firmly escorting them out of the throne room.
Magnus stood up and descended the stairs, then took his seat at the head of the long black table.
“Let’s talk,” he said, gesturing for Cleo and Jonas to join him.
Jonas sat on a carved mahogany chair and rubbed his sore wrists. “If all you wanted was to talk, why bother with the chains? The guards?”
“You had me on my knees with your sword to my throat, believing I was moments from death. This was the least I could do to keep us on even ground.”
Unbelievable, Jonas thought with disbelief. This had all been a show to soothe the prince’s wounded pride.
“Now, back to the business at hand,” Magnus said. “My offer stands, Agallon.”
“What offer?” Cleo said. Her cheeks were now flushed, her fingers gripping the edge of the table.
Magnus’s jaw tensed. “I proposed a truce between me and Jonas.”
Shock crossed Cleo’s expression. “A truce? I . . . I find that very difficult to believe.” Her gaze met Jonas’s. “You agreed to this?”
He nodded reluctantly. “I agreed to discuss it.”
“I don’t undertand.”
“While the rebel has been a painful thorn in my side, I believe he can be useful,” Magnus explained. “He’s agreed to kill my father so he’ll no longer be a threat to me, or any of us. While Agallon has attempted this before and failed, he’ll be much more successful aligned with me.”
Cleo’s brow creased in thought. “With your father dead, that would make you the king of Mytica—all of it.”
“Yes, it would.”
“Well, that’s rather convenient for you, isn’t it? Jonas will do the work, and you will reap all the rewards.”
“I’m sure you have a point, princess.”
“My point is: What happens then? If the king is dead and you have all the power? You won’t need Jonas anymore . . . or me.”
“I don’t particularly need you now. But if you’re fearful for your life, you shouldn’t be. I wouldn’t gain anything from your death once I have what I want.”
Her cheeks reddened. “You confirmed today that I’m a liar and a former rebel aide. Why would you pardon me for that?”
He regarded her for a moment in silence, his hands pressed palms down against the table. “Why wouldn’t you lie? Why wouldn’t you align yourself with someone who might help set you free from your enemies? I would have done exactly same thing if I’d been in your position.”
o;Please do alert me when you’re finished talking amongst yourselves.” Magnus’s voice drew Jonas’s attention to the dais, where the prince sat upon his father’s black throne.
“We’re finished,” Jonas snarled.
“Good.” He flicked his hand at a guard. “Bring her in.”
The guard opened the doors and Princess Cleo entered the throne room. For a moment, all Jonas could do was stare at her, grateful that she was every bit as beautiful—and alive—as the last time he’d seen her. At least the prince hadn’t been lying about that.
She took three graceful strides inside before her steps faltered. Her wide-eyed gaze went from Jonas to Magnus and back again.
“What’s going on?” she demanded.
“Someone dropped by for a visit,” Magnus said, gesturing toward Jonas. “I thought letting him stay for a while would be the hospitable thing to do.”
“This . . . this is Jonas Agallon,” she said.
“Yes,” Magnus said. “I’m impressed that you recognized the great rebel leader, even with his cunning disguise in place.”