She yanked at her skirts to keep them out of the muck and weeds and gave him a dirty look.
Finally, they arrived at a slight clearing. A bonfire crackled, lending light to the gathering darkness. The strong scent of cooked venison told Jonas that the hunt had gone well today. The rebels wouldn’t go hungry tonight.
The princess’s steps faltered again as shadows approached. At least three dozen rebels with ragged clothes and unfriendly expressions drew closer. Some began to climb the trees. Cleo looked up, her eyes widening at the sight of the makeshift shelters strung together with rope, sticks, and thin pieces of wood twenty feet up into the thick branches.
“This is where you live,” she said with surprise.
“For now.”
Cleo crossed her arms and swept a glance through the camp. Only a few rebels looked directly at her—some with curiosity, but most with distrust or contempt. Not the friendliest place in the world for a royal princess, that was for sure.
Tarus raced out in front of them, flashing Jonas a grin as he pursued a rabbit. At fourteen, he was one of the youngest of the rebels and endlessly enthusiastic, if currently unskilled in combat. Jonas had taken him along on several recruiting missions. The kid’s slight build and friendly face helped to set at ease the minds of any suspicious citizens Jonas wished to speak with. The sound of conversation, of chirping insects, and the squawk of birds high in the trees brought the forest to life all around them.
It wasn’t so bad here. At least, he didn’t think so.
Cleo scratched her arm where she’d been bitten by a mosquito, seeming more annoyed than fearful now that this indignity had been heaped upon her. Too bad. It wasn’t the finest golden palace, or even a reasonably decent inn, but it would have to do. Brion approached. “Need any help here?” he asked, flicking a look at Jonas.
“No,” Jonas replied. “Everything’s fine. Go find your girlfriend and keep her out of my way. I don’t need any more trouble tonight.” “You mean the girlfriend who, depending on the day, hates my guts almost as much as she hates yours?”
“That’s the one.”
Brion moved away past the fire, slapping a boy named Phineas on his back. They laughed about something while glancing back in Cleo’s direction.
“That’s Brion,” Jonas said. “He’s a close friend of mine. Strong, loyal, brave.”
“Good for him.” Cleo narrowed her eyes. “You’re their leader, aren’t you?”
Jonas shrugged. “I do my best.”
“And on your orders they’ll kill me—even your close friend Brion. Or would you prefer to do it yourself?” When he didn’t answer right away she turned to look directly at him. “Well?” He drew closer and curled his fingers around her upper arm. The girl spoke too loudly and much too freely. She was worse than Lysandra. “You’d probably be smart not to make such suggestions out loud, your highness. You might give some of my rebels ideas. Not everyone agrees with my decision to bring you here.”
She tried to pull away but he held firm.
“Unhand me,” she snapped.
“This is politics only, princess. What I’ve done today—what I’ll do in the days ahead—is for my people. Only them.” Jonas’s gaze shifted to the left and he swore under his breath when he saw who now swiftly approached.
Lysandra’s hair was loose from her braid, a long, wild tangle of dark curls. Her brown eyes fixed on Cleo. “So this is her, is it? Her royal highness?”
“It is,” Jonas said, already weary. Dealing with the stubborn and opinionated Lysandra was exhausting even on the best of days. “Lysandra Barbas, please meet Princess Cleiona Bellos.”
Cleo remained silent, wary, as the girl looked her up and down.
“She’s still breathing,” Lysandra observed.
“Yes, she is,” Jonas confirmed.
Lysandra walked a slow circle around Cleo, eyeing her gown, her jewelry, the pointy tips of her gold sandals peeking out from beneath her skirts. “Should we send the king one of her royal fingers as proof that we have her?”
“Lysandra,” Jonas hissed, his anger rising. “Shut up.”
“Is that a yes?”
“Let me guess,” Cleo said, her expression pinched. “This is one of your rebels who did not approve of your plan to kidnap me.”
“Lysandra has her own ideas on what decisions I should be making these days.”
The rebel girl swept her disapproving gaze over Cleo again. “I don’t fully understand the worth in kidnapping useless girls who serve no purpose other than looking pretty.”