Finally, once they were several miles away, Jonas stopped when Lysandra stumbled. Her legs were weak.
He regarded her with alarm. “I’m going too fast for you.”
“No, it’s fine. I’m just clumsy.” And exhausted, she thought. And in shock.
“You didn’t look injured back in the city. . . .” He checked her skin, pulling her hair away from her shoulders.
She pushed his hand away. “I’m not.”
He didn’t look convinced, he looked worried. “Did those bastards hurt you?”
She was still in a daze, uncertain if this was real or a dream. “They were about to chop off my head.”
“They kept us in a dark cell and barely fed us,” Tarus said, his voice quavering. “But they didn’t beat us. They beat up Gregor, badly, when he wouldn’t talk.”
“Gregor,” Jonas repeated, his eyes flicking to Lys’s. “Your brother’s in the dungeon too?”
All she could do was nod until she found her voice. “He was. The king killed him. He made me watch.”
Jonas clenched his jaw and he swore under his breath. “Lys . . . I’m so sorry.”
“Me too.” She let out a shuddery breath, weary from her grief. She wished so much that Gregor were here, too. Then she remembered their new companion. The older, dark-haired boy peered at her with silent curiosity, his arms crossed over his chest. “Who’re you?” she said.
“Sorry, I should have already made the introductions,” Jonas said. “Lysandra, Tarus, this is Felix Gaebras. Not only do you owe him your lives, but so do I. Without him, none of this could have happened.”
“Pleasure,” Felix said.
Lys’s first instinct was to demand more answers, but words vanished before she could speak.
Jonas was right. If it weren’t for Felix, and for Jonas, she’d be dead. She decided to reserve judgment on this boy until she got to know him better.
She nodded toward Felix. “Are you responsible for the explosions?”
“Nope,” Felix said. “That would be Jonas’s other new friend.” “Friend might be overstating matters after what happened back there,” Jonas growled. “Petros likes to watch things burn too much. He’s got no control. He could have killed Lys and Tarus.”
Felix shrugged. “They’re fine. Anyone standing there ready to watch your friends lose their heads deserved what they got. Nothing to feel guilty about.”
Jonas hissed out a long breath. “I suppose you’re right.”
Lysandra was still stunned. “Why?” she choked out.
“Why what?” Jonas asked.
“You risked your life—both of your lives—to save us.” She reached for Tarus’s hand and squeezed it.
“And?”
“And . . .” She shook her head. “And it doesn’t make sense. There are more important things for you to be doing right now.”
“Really, Lys?” Jonas shot her an impatient look. “And what if it were me in that dungeon? Would you have let me rot there until they hacked me into little pieces so you could go on doing more important things? Or would you have been busting your arse trying to save me?” He barked out a laugh. “Forget I asked. Of course you’d have been much more practical than that. The life of one rebel wouldn’t be worth the risk, right?”
There was no questioning what she would have done if the tables had been turned. She would have risked anything to save Jonas.
“I did it because Brion would have wanted me to, that’s why,” Jonas said, turning away. “End of story.”
Brion. Another boy taken before his time because he stood up to those who oppressed him. Brion, who had loved her in spite of—or because of—her fierce, argumentative nature.
“Understood,” she said softly.