Rebel Spring (Falling Kingdoms 2)

There was a bright side. While away from the palace, she realized, she’d have another, better chance to gather information about local folklore and legends; she would learn more about the Kindred and how her ring could play a part in finding it—all under Magnus’s nose.

The thought warmed her at night and helped keep her spirits high during the day. Still, for a journey surrounded by attendants and guards, not to mention the sullen, untalkative prince, she quickly became desperately lonely.

It was at King’s Harbor, where they were about to board a ship to take them to Trader’s Harbor in Paelsia, that she spotted Nic standing on the dock by the large black ship that rose from the water like a sea monster. He wore his red uniform like every other Limerian guard who’d accompanied Cleo and Magnus on this journey. His carrot-red hair stuck up in every direction. And he had a huge grin on his face.

Cleo’s mouth fell open at the sight of her dearest friend, but she stopped herself from immediately running to him and throwing herself into his arms.

“Something wrong, princess?” Magnus asked.

“It’s just . . . Nic.” Her heart pounded. “He’s here.”

“Yes, he is.”

“You’re not surprised?”

“No. I requested it.”

She turned to stare at him with shock and suspicion. “Why?”

He shrugged. “Your misery has been palpable for days, and it reflects poorly on me. For some reason, you value the presence of this fool. So here he is for the rest of the tour until I can finally get back to the castle and head out on a journey that really matters to me. He can handle our luggage and clean up after the horses. I’m sure I’ll find many interesting uses for him.”

Disbelief clouded her thoughts. “You summoned him here so I wouldn’t be miserable.”

Magnus’s upper lip thinned. “I need you to keep up your end of the bargain as we continue to feed these stupid people my father’s pretty lies. That’s all.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, her throat tight at the thought that he’d do something so unexpectedly kind, despite his harsh words.

He offered her the barest edge of a glance. “Save your gratitude. I don’t need it.”

She sent a glare in his direction, but it was wasted. He’d already moved away to speak with a guard near the ship.

Cleo approached Nic as regally as possible, but couldn’t keep her grin from spreading. “You’re here.”

He smiled too, far too broadly to appear professional. “On royal orders.”

“Well, I’m so glad you’re being royally ordered around.”

“In this instance, I’d have to agree.”

With Nic in tow, the journey continued on to Paelsia, and they toured through several villages and vineyards—though never coming near the Imperial Road, Cleo noticed. The poor villagers gathered to watch silently. Cleo’s presence did coax some children out of their homes, and they were fascinated by her beautiful and colorful dresses. The children’s eyes were filled with the boundless hope their elders lacked. Noticing this broke Cleo’s heart.

Paelsians were not fooled as Auranians were by anything the king said. These people had already seen his deception, his cruelty, with their own eyes. Such things could not be forgotten or forgiven.

By the time their entourage sailed up the coast to Limeros’s Black Harbor, Cleo was dismayed that she’d learned nothing useful about her ring, which sat heavy on her finger as it had since she first left the City of Gold. Nor had she learned anything more than repeated stories about the Kindred. The time to find such information grew shorter with every day that passed, and her anxiety grew.

Now that their journey had reached Limeros, Cleo had to bundle up in a thick ermine-lined cloak to keep out the chill of the frigid, frozen landscape. Where Auranos had a palace that literally sparkled like a jewel under the bright sunshine, the Limerian castle seemed to absorb light, killing it on contact. It was large and black and ominous, its spires rising up into the cold sky like the claws of a demon. Its windows were the only thing that reflected light, much like the eyes of some ravenous beast.

Magnus’s true home suited him perfectly.

“Is that all of them?” Magnus asked, eyeing the trunks that Nic had unloaded from the carriages.

“It is, your grace.” To his credit, Nic managed to say this without sounding sarcastic. Sweat coated Nic’s brow after he’d singlehandedly dragged all of their luggage chests into the castle.

“Good. Now go see to the horses. I must check if there are any messages waiting for me here from my father.” He turned on the heels of his black leather boots and stalked off down the hall without another word.

“I hate him,” Nic snarled.

“So do I,” Cleo replied.