Rebel Spring (Falling Kingdoms 2)

A golden hawk touched down on the railing of the balcony and at the sight of it Lucia sat straight up, the effort making her dizzy. The hawk studied her for several moments, his head cocking to the side.

“Alexius?” she whispered. “Is that you?”

The bedroom’s heavy wooden doors swung open, crashing against the wall, and the bird took flight from its perch. Lucia turned with a scowl toward the door to see Magnus standing there.

“Lucia . . .” He swiftly came to her side. “I swear to the goddess, if you fall asleep again, I’ll be furious with you!”

Despite her flash of annoyance at disturbing the hawk, it was so good to see him again. His dark hair had grown long enough that it nearly hid his brown eyes. She hadn’t noticed this on her previous brief awakening. “I won’t fall asleep again because I won’t let it happen again. Magnus, Mother has been putting a potion in my water. She’s the one who’s kept me asleep all this time.” He stared at her. “Why would she do such a thing?”

“Because she thinks I’m evil. She told me herself she wanted to kill me.” She reached out to clutch his hand. “I never want to see that woman again or I can’t be held responsible for what I might do to her to protect myself. She’s always hated me, Magnus. Now I feel exactly the same way toward her.”

Every candle’s flame in the room suddenly rose a half foot, blazing as hot as Lucia’s temper. Magnus eyed them warily before returning his gaze to hers.

“Lucia . . . Mother is dead. She was murdered by rebels a week and a half ago.”

“Dead?” Lucia’s mouth went dry. The next moment, the flames she’d summoned with barely a thought extinguished completely.

She waited to feel some sort of reaction—some kind of grief or sadness or . . . anything at all. But there was nothing.

“I will find her killer. I swear I will. And I will make him pay for what he’s done.” Magnus’s voice caught and he pulled from her grip to pace the room, keeping his face in shadows.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” she whispered.

“A loss to us all.”

He mourned their mother—deeply. But Lucia found that she did not.

Magnus strode across the room, absently stroking the scar on his cheek. He always did so when he was thinking deeply, whether he realized it or not. “Mother’s body was found with a witch—also murdered. Likely, this witch was supplying her with the sleeping potion. I just don’t understand why she’d do such a thing. What was she thinking?”

So her mother consulted with witches, did she? To fight fire with fire—magic with magic. “We’ll never know for sure,” she said instead. She reached out to Magnus and he came back to her side, grasping her hand in his again. “Help me up. I need to get out of this bed.”

He did as she asked, supporting her. But as soon as her weight was on both legs, she found she did not have the strength to stand on her own.

“Not yet, I’m afraid,” he said, helping her back into bed. “You must rest.”

“I’ve been resting for two months!”

A weary smile curled up the side of his mouth, though his dark eyes were still filled with grief. “Another couple of days will have to be added. You’re not going anywhere today. Too bad, really. On any other day, I could sit here till nightfall and fill you in on everything else you’ve missed. For example, how I feel about being trapped in Auranos. Always bright and shiny and delightfully green—and I truly could not hate it more. All I wish to do is join the hunt for the rebel who killed our mother. But that will have to wait.”

“Wait for what?”

Magnus stood up from the side of the bed and leaned his arm against the poster near the base. “Until I return.”

“Where are you going?”

His brow furrowed. It was as if he didn’t wish to speak his thoughts aloud.

“Magnus, tell me. What’s wrong?”

“Today’s an important day, Lucia. I find it quite ironic that today, of all days, is when you’ve finally returned to us. To me.”

“What’s today?”

“It’s my wedding day.”

She gaped at him and struggled to sit up amongst the many cushions and pillows surrounding her. “What? Who are you marrying?”

His jaw tightened. “Princess Cleiona Bellos.”