Falling Kingdoms (Falling Kingdoms 1)

Jonas frowned at her. “Isn’t that sweet? You should do as your friend suggests and try to run. You won’t get far, but you can try. It would be a moment of bravery for such a cowardly girl.”

She glared at him. “If you think I’m cowardly, you know nothing about me.”

“I know enough.”

“No, you don’t. What happened to your brother was a tragedy. I don’t defend what Aron did because he was wrong. And I was wrong not to stop it when I had the chance. I was horrified about what happened that day. So you can hate me all you want, but I swear to the goddess that if you harm Nic, I will kill you myself.”

In that moment, she meant every word. Every weak, meaningless, and laughable word. Still, Jonas stared at her as if he’d never expected her to say such a thing.

o;Of course I would.”

She threw her arms around him and squeezed tightly. “You are truly my best friend in the entire world, do you know that?”

“I’m glad to hear it. Besides, I’m in no hurry to go back to the palace and face the wrath of the king for running off with his daughter.”

He was undoubtedly right, but she’d hoped not to think of that for a while longer. Both her father and Theon would be livid with her—and Nic. It was one thing if she returned victorious with the solution she’d sought in the palm of her hand and another if she scurried back defeated with her tail between her legs.

So they’d be angry. Fine. It wouldn’t be the first time, nor would it be the last. She’d deal with any repercussions when the time came.

“I want to stay and help you,” she said softly.

“Accept it, Cleo. You can’t always have everything you want.”

She snorted against the softness of his tunic. “Very well. Have it your way. You can be the hero.”

“It’s always been my dream.”

“Back to the harbor, then.”

“The harbor.” He nodded and presented his hand to her. She took it.

As they started walking, Cleo had the oddest sensation that they were being watched. She turned her head to look, but no one was there. A mile west of the village, they turned onto a dusty road and she felt it again. Like cold fingers trailing down her spine.

“Ouch. You do have quite a grip on you, Cleo.”

“Shh,” she whispered. “Somebody’s watching us.”

He frowned. “What?”

They turned to see in the gathering light a tall, dark-haired boy moving toward them along the road. Cleo froze in place as he swiftly caught up to them. Her breath caught as she realized it was the very same boy who haunted her dreams.

Jonas Agallon.

“What are you—” she began.

He gave her an unfriendly grin. “Morning, princess. Such an honor to see you again.”

And then he slammed his fist into Nic’s face, dropping the boy to the ground. Nic scrambled back up to his feet immediately, his nose gushing blood.

Cleo screamed. “What are you doing?”

“Relieving you of your protection.” Jonas swung Nic around until he faced Cleo and pressed a dagger—the very same jeweled dagger that Aron had used to kill Tomas!—to Nic’s throat.

“Don’t!” she shrieked. “Please, no! Don’t hurt him!”

This was all happening too fast. How did he even know she was here?

“Don’t hurt him?” Jonas eyed her. Nic fought against him, but Jonas was much taller and more muscular. He was able to keep the skinny boy easily under control. “Are you saying that you care for him? That his death might cause you pain?”