Rebel Spring (Falling Kingdoms 2)

“This is a dress fitting,” Cleo said. “Therefore, I will be undressing.”

“A hardship for me to endure, I agree.” Again, that welcome grin of his flickered on his lips. “But I will try to keep my focus.”

She stifled a laugh. “You will wait outside this door for me to finish.”

“But, princess—”

“Nic, please. Do as I ask. Don’t make a fuss.”

He stopped walking and bowed his head. “As you command, your highness.”

Cleo needed as few people in this room as possible. When Lorenzo entered, she would send the attendant away so she could speak with him privately about secretly helping her.

Nerissa led the way into the large fitting room, closing the door between them and Nic. Inside there were messy swaths of cloth and half-made gowns. On one mannequin in the center of the room was Cleo’s wedding gown. It was made of silk and lace with shades of gold and ivory. It had tiny pearls, sapphires, and diamonds stitched into patterns of swirling flowers on the bodice. The translucent, flowing sleeves appeared to be as light as air.

The gown was so beautiful that it took her breath away. “Nerissa . . . Lorenzo completely outdid himself.”

There was no reply.

She turned. “Nerissa?”

The girl was gone. Only then did Cleo notice how dark it was. Sunlight from the window shone upon the area of the dress, but not into the corners of the cavernous room.

“Swayed by pretty frocks, your highness?” a voice said from the shadows. “Why am I not surprised?”

Her heart began to pound hard. “You.”

“I did say you’d be seeing me again soon.”

Jonas Agallon stood in the shadows at the edge of the room, where he must have been since she entered. She hadn’t noticed him. Which surprised her, since now she couldn’t see anything else but him. He wore tan leather trousers, black leather boots, and a simple brown tunic that bore a slight rip in the sleeve. As he drew alarmingly close to her, he smelled not of dirt and sweat, which she might have expected, but the clean scent of the forest just as he had when he’d snuck into her chambers.

Her gaze scanned the room again as quickly as she could. “What did you do to Nerissa?”

“Nerissa is a help to me and my rebels. One of those girls you mentioned before who says yes to what I ask of them instead of giving me a difficult time. You might learn much from her.”

“I’m surprised at you for endangering her. There are more than a dozen guards in the very next room who are on alert for any rebel activity.”

It was an exaggeration, but there was no reason he had to know this. The king did not take the threat of outside attack lightly, yet he’d sent so very few guards along on this trip.

Jonas didn’t seem alarmed at the threat of guards. He touched the sleeve of the wedding gown, sliding the sheer material between his fingers. “Have you given any more thought to my proposition?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Is that what this is about? Another attempt to woo me to the rebel cause?”

“Believe me, princess, I would never attempt to woo you. Far too much work for very little reward.” A smile tugged at his lips. “So here you are, ready to be fitted in the gown you will wear to wed Prince Magnus. Very soon you’ll truly be one of them.”

o;Yes. Please, follow me.”

Inside the store waited a dozen attendants and seamstresses, lined up six on each side, their heads lowered obediently. The expansive store was lined with bolts of silk, satin, jacquard, and lace for as far as the eye could see.

“I have been working very hard on a dress befitting a queen of your high esteem.” Lorenzo moved toward a mannequin that had been draped in a magnificent indigo gown. It was embroidered with gold thread and beaded with sparkling stones. “I believe I’ve succeeded. What do you think of this, your majesty?”

“It’s divine,” the queen said, her normally expressionless face tinged with the tiniest pink, her words hushed. “Beautiful. This is my absolute favorite color. Did you know that?”

Lorenzo smiled. “Perhaps.”

This vibrant shade was the queen’s favorite? Cleo had never seen her in anything that wasn’t black, gray, or a muted shade of steely green. Since Magnus and his father also wore nothing but black, she’d assumed it was a strange Limerian custom at odds with the red-as-blood uniforms.

The queen’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Who have you been speaking to about me that would give you such personal information?”