J—
The king seeks the Kindred. He believes the crystals exist, but he doesn’t yet know where or how to recover them.
We must find them first. They cannot fall into his hands, or else he will be unstoppable.
I will send another message when I know more. Tell no one about this.
—C
Jonas’s heart beat louder and faster with every word. He read Cleo’s note twice before holding it over the candle and burning it.
The Kindred. Once he would have scoffed at the idea of magic, but no more. He didn’t doubt the truth of the princess’s message for a moment.
“What did it say?” Felix asked.
He would honor Cleo’s request to tell no one, especially since there was nothing in the message that could help them—only a hint of more information to come. “The king refuses to leave the palace, fearful of a rebel attack.”
Felix snorted. “What a coward.”
Bang!
Jonas started and Nerissa shrieked, gripping the edges of the table. The tavern fell silent and the patrons turned with alarm in the direction of the noise outside.
“Young Petros, always making trouble,” one woman grumbled. “He’s going to kill this entire village if he’s not careful.”
Peals of laughter rang out, and then the patrons returned to regular conversation.
Jonas was silent, lost in the thoughts now swirling around his mind like a tornado.
“I can save them.”
“What?” Felix studied him.
“Lys and Tarus. I can save them.”
“You sure about that?”
“I wasn’t before, but . . .” Jonas stood up, his dark mood fading away as a plan solidified in his mind. “I need help . . . and I think I know who can help me.”
“Help us, you mean.” Felix stood, his chair squeaking loudly against the wooden floor. “What do you have in mind?”
“Jonas,” Nerissa protested. “I hate to muddy the waters of your conviction, but this is far too dangerous. Trying to stop those executions with less than two days to plan is going to get you killed as well.”
“Perhaps.” A smile slowly stretched across his face from ear to ear. “But I can think of far worse ways to die.”
CHAPTER 13
NIC
AURANOS
His journey to see Prince Ashur had started off so well.
Yet now Nic lay in a shallow pool of his own blood, having been beaten nearly senseless. He gazed up into the bright summer sunlight at the faces of his two attackers.
Burrus pressed the point of his sword firmly against Nic’s chest. “Thought you could be like us? You’re nothing like us. You’re worthless.”
“Just kill him and get it over with,” Milo said, bored. His knuckles were red and raw from the pounding he’d given Nic after yanking him off his horse.