The king pulled Magnus close in a tight embrace. Magnus stood like a statue, stony and silent, his mind trapped in turmoil.
He let the dagger fall from his grip and clatter to the floor.
His father had never embraced him like this before.
And for just a moment before he pulled away to leave the throne room, Magnus let him.
CHAPTER 12
JONAS
AURANOS
Jonas’s mood was as black as the night sky.
That evening he was in a village called Viridy, a half-day’s journey northeast of the City of Gold. It wasn’t his first visit; he had begun to use a tavern there as a central meeting place. He’d sent Felix on ahead to meet him there tonight, while he had spent the last day and a half following a whispered rumor about some rebels and a group of Paelsian slaves who’d escaped from the road camp alive. But that rumor had proven to be false.
Even though King Gaius’s rule brought out a palpable edge of uneasiness amongst the people, affluence still glittered in Viridy like gold, much like every other Auranian town Jonas had visited. The streets were paved not in dirt and rock, but sparkling cobblestones. The storefronts were made not of clay, but of sturdy stone and wood.
This was the home of thousands of citizens who paid high taxes to whichever king sat his royal arse on the throne, but still they lived well. No one starved, wandering the streets in rags searching for their next meal. No one froze in alleys because they were denied warmth or shelter during a cold winter’s night, as they did in Paelsia.
But unlike someone who’d actually experienced pain and squalor, the people here didn’t appreciate what they had. That they took it all for granted put a sour taste in Jonas’s mouth. He had no doubt they’d collectively crumple if their easy lifestyles were ever stolen from them.
On the whole, Paelsians—for all their struggles and naïve beliefs in unavoidable destiny—were a hardier breed than Auranians. They were survivors. It’s what Jonas loved most about his people.
Walking along the side of the street, he felt a hand grip the sleeve of his hooded cloak, stopping him in his tracks outside an inn.
“You—” An ugly face cocked to the side as a man peered at Jonas through the shadows. “I know you.”
Jonas regarded the man warily. “Doubt that. Let go of me.”
“Yeah, I do know you.” A slow smile crept onto his face. “You’re that rebel I’ve seen on the posters.”
Jonas’s stomach sank. He’d prefer not to be recognized tonight if he could help it. “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t worry, kid. I’m impressed.” His slurred words were enough to prove he had been drinking heavily. It was a special day in Auranos, the Day of Flames, which honored one half of the goddess Cleiona’s legendary magic. The holiday gave its citizens a reason to drink more wine than usual and dress in orange and yellow to represent the eternal fire of their deity. “I’ve been thinking I’d make a good rebel myself. Like to kick the arse of the King of Blood right out of the world of the living.”
“I think you have me confused with someone else,” Jonas said evenly.
He wasn’t in a mood to recruit ordinary citizens. His meeting tonight was with representatives from an Auranian group of rebels whom he hoped could help him free Lysandra and the others.
Suddenly, a loud cracking sound made him jump and reel in the direction of a burst of sparkling yellow light. Somebody screamed, and a blond boy about sixteen years old raced down the street, his tunic ablaze. He launched himself face-first into a barrel of water.
“Not again,” the drunk mumbled. “Petros, you’re a damn fool!” he shouted. “You’re going to get yourself killed playing with fire like that!”
The boy pulled himself out of the barrel and cast a dark look at the drunk. “Mind your own business, old man.”
“You burn down our home and it’s my business. I’ll drown you in that barrel if you don’t do as I say!”
The boy didn’t offer anything more than a rude gesture in the drunk’s general direction and a dour glare at Jonas before he jogged away.
“What was that all about?” Jonas asked.
“My idiot fire-obsessed son,” the man replied. “He likes to experiment with ridiculous concoctions that do little more than burn his eyebrows off. Tonight his excuse is that he is honoring the fire goddess by causing his trouble throughout the village with these works of fire. Foolish boy.”
Jonas had no time for chitchat with drunken locals about their troublesome sons. He needed to join Felix at the tavern in time for their meeting.
With a mumbled farewell and a word of good luck, he successfully slipped away from the man. Before he reached the tavern, he sensed someone else following him.