Rebel Spring (Falling Kingdoms 2)

The skies were gray today and snowflakes began to fall, speckling Cleo’s red cloak and the clothes of the nearby dignitaries with dots of white.

“Tell us more about this wheel, Lord Gareth,” Magnus said.

Heart pounding, she twisted her hands together, feeling the cool surface of her amethyst ring beneath her touch. She glanced toward Nic, who stood stiffly next to the other guards, as still as statues. His disdainful gaze was fixed entirely on Magnus.

The man moved toward the wheel and slid his hand over the curve of it. “Wheels identical to this are scattered across Mytica. For centuries no one has understood what they are and where they come from. Only that they’re very old and somehow connected to the Watchers.”

“How many wheels are there?” Cleo asked.

“A dozen have been found and documented. Each exactly the same, but in different stages of disrepair.”

“How do you know they have something to do with the Watchers?” she asked, ignoring Magnus’s curious look at her.

The lord kept his hand on the wheel as he admired the carved surface of it. “There was an old man who lived in northern Limeros. Near the end of his days, he swore to all who’d listen that he was an exiled Watcher who had left the Sanctuary never to return. Once here, he became mortal, he aged, he became senile. His children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren listened patiently to his ramblings, but didn’t think much of it. He spoke of the wheels being here for a reason. He asked to be taken to one so he could touch immortality once again.”

The stone wheel seemed so innocuous to her, something no one would ever look twice at. “And did he?”

“No. He died before that could happen.”

“Likely, just an old man who didn’t know what he was saying.” Magnus’s expression was completely unreadable. “Much gratitude for this rare and generous gift, Lord Gareth. The wheel will be the highlight of this garden, I’m sure.”

“It’s my pleasure, Prince Magnus, Princess Cleo. May you have many happy years together.” He bowed and moved back to join the others.

“Prince Magnus!” a woman with gray hair and a wrinkled face called out to him. “Might I have a word? My son is still not betrothed and I was thinking about your sister . . . well, could we speak?”

“This tour cannot come to an end soon enough,” he muttered before moving off to join the enthusiastic woman.

Now alone, Cleo touched the smooth, cold surface of the large wheel. A skilled hand had created this once, many years ago.

“It’s how they get back and forth between the mortal world and the Sanctuary in hawk form,” Tarus had told her. “They have these magical, carved stone wheels hidden here and there. Might look like nothing but a ruin to us, but without the wheels, they’re trapped here.”

But this stone had been moved from its original location. Would it still work?

After a moment, the stone, which had been cold as ice beneath her touch, began to warm.

Her heart quickened to see her ring begin to glow—and something deep within the purple stone, something that looked like sparkling, molten gold, started to swirl.

The wheel quickly grew as hot as fire beneath her touch and a tremor of energy shot up her arm. Fear got the better of her and she yanked her hand back. The stone in her ring stopped glowing, but she was captivated by that small speck of gold still visible down deep—so deep she felt as if she might fall into it and lose herself.

A wave of dizziness swept through her and she swayed on her feet before her legs gave out completely.

But she didn’t fall. Someone was there, reaching an arm around her waist to steady her. She looked up expecting to see Nic, but it was Magnus.

His dark brows were drawn tightly together. “Problem, princess?”

A quick glance at the gathered crowd showed that no one watched her with anything more than concern over her current state of well-being. No one guessed what she’d just seen.

The noblewoman Magnus had been speaking to gawked at her. “She’s so pale. Is she well?”

remembered the rebel boy, Tarus, mentioning stone wheels that were associated with the Watchers and the Sanctuary. This couldn’t possibly be the same thing. Could it?

The balding but distinguished-looking lord clasped his hands in front of him, rocking on his heels, seemingly pleased he now had the royal couple’s full attention. “The Watchers watch us in the form of hawks.”

“A child’s tale I’ve heard a thousand times,” Magnus said, dismissively.

“Is it? Or is it true?” The lord appeared to welcome the chance to debate this. “Magic is very real, your highness.”

Magnus watched him, his gaze steady. “What makes you believe that?”