“Princess?” It was Nic. “Is everything all right in there?”
Jonas swore under his breath. “I suppose I can tell you part of my plan—my immediate plan. Had you been more agreeable the last time we spoke, it might not have come to this.”
She tore her gaze from the wooden door. “What? Speak quickly. They’ll be coming in here in moments.”
“Concerned for my safety?”
“No, for mine. If I’m found alone in a room with a rebel—”
“It would put a damper on your betrothal to the prince, wouldn’t it?”
“And cost both of us our lives. You must leave while there’s time.”
“You’re coming with me.”
He must be mad. “I’m doing no such thing.”
Jonas shook his head. “Apologies, your highness, but you really should have said yes the last time we spoke. It might have helped avoid the necessity of this.”
Alarm grew in her chest at the dark look that had come over his expression, she turned to the door and opened her mouth to yell for help. Nic now banged on the door, attempting to break it open.
Jonas was behind her, crushing her back against his chest. His hand covered her mouth—it held a cloth that smelled strange. Of strong herbs.
“You won’t believe me,” he said into her ear. “But I mean you no harm.”
She’d smelled the same thing once—a healer had used it to induce sleep when she’d broken her ankle as a child. To avoid further pain, and for him to have the opportunity to reset the broken bone, he’d administered this powerful medicine.
She tried to scream, but found she had no voice. Darkness fell all around her.
Chapter 11
MAGNUS
AURANOS
The palace had been in an uproar for hours, ever since the carriage returned from Hawk’s Brow without Princess Cleiona. She’d been taken from a private room in the dressmaker’s shop and a note had been left behind, addressed to the king himself, tucked into the folds of the wedding gown she’d been there to see.
I have the princess. If you wish her returned unharmed, you will immediately cease construction on your road and free all those you’ve enslaved to work on it.
“Will you do as the rebel demands?” Magnus now asked the king. He and his father were in Lucia’s chambers, standing on either side of her bed, the sleeping princess between them.
“No. I need my road finished, and soon. It will stop for nothing, especially not the demands of a rebel.”
Magnus’s gaze snapped to the king. “Then he’ll kill her.”
A nod. “Most likely.”
Even for the king, this utter lack of emotion was surprising, at least until Magnus realized that this played well into his father’s plans. Such an end for Cleo would gain him great sympathy from the Auranian citizens. And it would paint the rebels as abhorrent villains who would harm an innocent young girl loved by thousands of her subjects.
Still, it troubled him.
“There was no need for her to travel to another location for such a trivial thing,” he said. “The fitting could have happened here.”
“Yes, it could have.”
Magnus frowned. “Did you know this would happen?”
The king’s expression grew thoughtful. “I thought it a possibility that the rebels might act.”