Gathering Darkness (Falling Kingdoms 3)

“I still don’t like you.”

“Alas, the feeling’s not entirely mutual.” Felix’s grin widened. “You’re a bit too cute to earn my total dislike, despite you being a pain in my arse. But don’t worry, I won’t try anything. I know Jonas wants you all for himself.”

Jonas choked and sputtered halfway through a sip of his drink. “What?”

Felix shrugged. “You’re in love with her.”

In love with Lys? He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “No, I’m not.”

“We nearly killed ourselves busting her out of that palace square. You were just upstairs tucking her into bed and singing her lullabies. And you’ve defended her to your last breath to keep her in this trio. Please. I’m not blind, friend.”

Lysandra laughed, a low chuckle in the back of her throat. “Sorry to break it to you, Felix, but Jonas isn’t in love with me. He’s too busy being in love with Princess Cleo.”

Felix blinked. “As in, her royal highness, Princess Cleo, wife of Prince Magnus? She whom you met in that temple cloaked by shadows and mystery? The princess you kidnapped—what was it, three times?”

“Twice.” Jonas glared at Lysandra for even bringing up the subject.

She looked at him innocently. “Problem?”

“I’m not in love with the princess.”

“Why not?” Felix laughed, then drained the rest of his ale. “Half of Auranos is. Why wouldn’t you want to kneel before the golden princess’s skirts and beg for her attention like the rest of us?”

“I’m not sure I can picture Jonas kneeling,” Lysandra said, raising an eyebrow.

Jonas couldn’t keep the grin off his face at this sudden, and rather unwelcome, change of subject. “For the right girl I just might. However, there’s nothing to discuss when it comes to Princess Cleo. She’s a princess, and I’m a . . . whatever I am.”

Lysandra scrunched up her nose. “She’s a royal. That’ll never change.”

“And she’s married,” Felix added.

“Thanks for the reminder.” Jonas thought back to the note he’d received from the princess. He felt it was time to share its contents.

“Do either of you believe in legends?” Jonas asked after a silence had fallen between them.

“What kinds of legends?” Felix signaled to the barkeep for another round of drinks. Lysandra peered into her wine glass, finally taking a tentative sip.

“Of magic—the magic that is said to have history here in Mytica,” Jonas said. “And . . . of Watchers. And the Kindred.”

Lysandra drew in a shaky breath. “What about Watchers?”

“That they really exist.” Lysandra trembled at his response and, alarmed, Jonas reached across the table to squeeze her hand. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

She took a long sip of wine. “I didn’t say anything to you about this before, because I’ve tried to block it all out. But Gregor claimed that a Watcher used to visit him in his dreams—it’s why the king kept him alive so long. So he could question him. The king believed his story; I saw it in his eyes. He believes in magic, and he’s greedy for it. When Gregor couldn’t give him the answers he wanted to hear, the king had him killed.”

Jonas stared at her, shocked. The king was after magic—just as Cleo had informed him.

Felix watched them both in silence.

“When Phaedra stopped visiting his dreams, it broke his heart,” Lysandra whispered.

Hearing that name felt like a hand gripping Jonas’s throat.

“At the time,” Lysandra continued, “I thought he’d gone mad, but maybe it was true. Maybe she was real.”

“Did you say . . . Phaedra?” Jonas asked.

“Yes. Why?”