Rebel Spring (Falling Kingdoms 2)

“Two weeks ago. I’ve barely slept since. I’ve tried to keep moving, keep searching. Most in Paelsia are so accepting of fate—of destiny. It sickens me. Those here in Auranos are delusional, thinking King Gaius isn’t as bad as his reputation. They’re wrong—all of them. Now that I’ve found you, I can join your numbers and help to free our countrymen.”

Jonas swallowed hard, his chest tight. His feet pounded against the ground as they continued to put distance between them and the dead guards. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Don’t be sorry. I’m here and I’m ready to fight against the King of Blood. I want to see him suffer. I want to see him lose his precious crown and have his world burn to the ground as he dies screaming. That’s what I want.”

“That’s what we all want. My rebels are ready to make a difference and we’re—”

“Your rebels,” Lysandra said sharply. “Are you saying you’re the leader?”

“Of our group, yes.”

“What’s your name?”

“Jonas Agallon.”

Her eyes widened. “I’ve heard of you. Everyone in Paelsia knows your name.”

Yes, the murder of his brother Tomas—the inciting incident that brought about King Gaius’s bid for war against the Auranians with naive Paelsians fighting at his side—had made both their names well known throughout the land. His fingers brushed against the jeweled dagger he held onto only so he could one day use it to end Lord Aron’s life.

Lysandra flicked a glance at Brion. “And who are you?”

He smiled eagerly. “Brion Radenos.”

She frowned. “I’ve never heard of you.”

Brion’s expression fell. “Well, not yet. I will be famous one day too.”

“I have no doubt.” Her attention returned to Jonas. “What have your rebels been focused on?”

He eyed the alleyway they swiftly moved past, but there were no guards lying in wait for them. “We’re recruiting all over Paelsia and Auranos—there are nearly fifty of us now. We’re causing trouble where we can, so the king knows we’re here and that we’re a growing threat. And while we are in Auranos we’re spreading the word to the citizens that the king is a liar and they shouldn’t so easily buy in to his promises.”

“Your group hasn’t made a move on the king himself?”

“Not yet.” The memory of the three rebels’ heads mounted on spikes haunted him, a tight, hard knot in his gut. He wanted to do whatever it took to defeat the king, but to lose anyone—to have them suffer and die at his command . . .

It would be like seeing Tomas’s murder again and again, and being personally responsible for it this time.

“Destroying murals and recruiting potential rebels isn’t going to defeat King Gaius.” Her steps finally slowed and she chewed her bottom lip, as if deep in thought. “He’s enslaving our people to build his road. Our Paelsian brothers and sisters throughout our land are being forced to work for him against their will—or they’re being murdered for trying to resist.”

“I had not heard of this.” The thought of such an atrocity made him see red. “The king spoke of the Imperial Road in his speech as if it would unite all of Mytica as one people, and Auranians are lapping it up like cream offered to a housecat.”

“Auranians are idiots.” She cast a glance around them. They now stood on the side of a busy street, away from the swell of the crowd. A busy fruit market was fifty paces away. “They deserve a king like this forced upon them, but Paelsians do not. What else did he say in this speech?” She looked at Brion for this information.

“He announced the betrothal between Prince Magnus and Princess Cleiona,” Brion told her.

Her eyes widened. “So, the golden princess is cozying up to the enemy rather than risking a single day of her pampered lifestyle, is she?”

“She’s not,” Jonas said under his breath.

“Not what?”

“The princess is not cozying up to the enemy. The betrothal wasn’t—couldn’t have been her idea. The Damora family destroyed her life, killed her father, and stole her throne.”

“And now she’s been welcomed into that family, with a gilded roof over her head and attendants to serve her breakfast in bed and see to her every need.”

“I disagree.”

“You can disagree, but it doesn’t change anything. I don’t care a fig for Princess Cleiona. What I care about is my people—my brother, those from my village and every other Paelsian who’s been enslaved. We must mount an attack on the road immediately! If you want to show the king that we’re a threat, as you said, that we’re a force to be reckoned with, this is how to do it. We free the slaves and destroy any progress that’s been made.”