Rebel Spring (Falling Kingdoms 2)

But escape was not her goal tonight.

As they neared the stables, the stench of manure hung heavy in the air. And there she saw him.

“Cleo . . .” Mira whispered, then louder: “Cleo! You’re right— he’s here!”

Heart in throat, Cleo hurried her pace as the girls rushed toward Nic. A few other stable hands looked on with interest. Nic watched their approach with wide eyes, then dropped the two buckets he carried. They sloshed against the ground. However, before Cleo or Mira could get any closer, the guards closed in and grabbed each of the girls’ arms to stop them.

“Unhand me!” Cleo struggled against her captor. “Nic . . . Nic! Are you all right?”

Nic nodded with one firm shake of his head. “I’m fine. You don’t know how glad I am to see you two.”

“Let me go!” Mira snarled, fighting against the guard who held her in place.

Aron had followed them leisurely and now he approached, his arms crossed over his chest, a lit cigarillo protruding from the fingers of one hand. “Well, seems that I have revealed a little secret, haven’t I? Doesn’t matter, I suppose. It won’t change anything.”

“You don’t think so?” Cleo retorted. “Now that I know where Nic is I’ll make sure he’s released from these lowly labors!”

“You confuse yourself with someone who still has great power here, princess.”

“And you confuse yourself with someone who has any.”

“Working knee deep in horse shit is his punishment. Although, if you ask me, he should be dead for what he did to Prince Magnus.”

The memory tore through her mind before she could try to stop it. Theon’s broken body, his eyes staring upward, unseeing. Magnus with blood on his face from where she’d clawed him as he tried to wrench her to her feet. Nic, throwing a rock to stop him, which met its mark. Cleo had taken a heavy sword and very nearly plunged it into the prince’s chest while he was disoriented, but Nic feared the ultimate repercussions of such an act and stopped her. He’d knocked Magnus out cold so he couldn’t follow them.

I’m so sorry, Theon. I’m so . . . so sorry. I led you to your death, and then couldn’t avenge you.

Her eyes burned, but she didn’t cry. She needed Theon’s memory, the recollection of his strength, his confident belief in her, to aid her now. Tears wouldn’t help. Commands wouldn’t help. Aron was right, she had no power here anymore. No influence.

However . . .

She turned toward Aron—this time with a smile.

“Come on, Aron,” she almost purred. “You were once our friend—our good friend. Can’t you find that within yourself again? Not everything has changed, has it? Mira thought her brother was dead. Don’t keep them apart. Please.”

Aron might have expected rage from her, but clearly didn’t know what to do with cordiality. He hesitated for a moment, nonplussed, before he finally nodded at the guard who held Mira. The guard released her and Mira ran directly into Nic’s arms.

“We couldn’t find you anywhere,” she said, choked. “I was so worried about you!”

“Oh, Mira.” Nic gripped his sister tightly, snorting softly into her long hair. “Honestly? I was worried about me too.”

She pulled back from him a little and scrunched her nose. “You stink!”

He laughed out loud at that and ran a hand through his messy and matted red hair. “Glad to see you too, dear sister.”

This time, the smile Cleo gave Aron was sincere. “Thank you.”

He watched the siblings with a sour look. “Remember this favor, Cleo. You owe me one.”

She fought to hold on to her pleasant expression. “Of course, Lord Aron.”

Aron smiled, pleased, at this.

It was good to know she could easily handle this fool when necessary.

The guards accompanied Cleo back to her chambers and closed the door behind her. She knew one would remain stationed outside until morning in case she even thought of escaping. There had been times she’d scaled the ivy outside her sister’s balcony to leave the castle, but in her own chambers, it was a sheer drop from her window to the ground thirty feet below.

The king might acknowledge her as a “guest of honor” publicly, but at this very moment she felt every bit a prisoner of war. She supposed she should consider herself lucky her own chambers had been returned to her. For days after the battle, they had been given to Lucia until other accommodations for the ailing Limerian princess had been found.