Rebel Spring (Falling Kingdoms 2)

The taste of bile rose in her throat at the sight of him. “Don’t try to make me believe you knew nothing about this.”

“I’m not trying to make you believe anything, princess. Frankly, I don’t particularly care what you believe about me or anyone else.”

“It won’t happen.” Her voice was quiet but strong. “I will never marry you.”

p went through the crowd and Aron’s gleeful expression froze.

“Princess Cleiona represents golden Auranos in all ways,” the king said. “She is the daughter of you all and I know she is in your hearts. I see this as an opportunity to unite Mytica even more than it already is. Therefore, today I am pleased to announce the betrothal and upcoming marriage forty days from today between my son, Prince Magnus Lukas Damora, and Auranos’s beloved Princess Cleiona Aurora Bellos.”

King Gaius took Cleo’s hand and Magnus’s hand and joined them. “Immediately following the wedding, there will be a wedding tour—Magnus and Cleiona will travel across Mytica as a symbol of unity and the bright future we all share together.”

There was a moment of silence before the majority of the crowd began to cheer with approval—some nervously, some with full appreciation of such a proposed union and tour.

“Huh,” Brion said. “I wasn’t expecting that at all.”

Jonas stared up at the balcony for several stunned moments. “I’ve heard enough. We need to get out of here. Now.”

“Lead the way.”

Jonas turned from his view of blank-faced Cleo and began threading his way through the madness. It was the news of the Imperial Road he was most concerned with—what did it mean? What were the king’s true intentions? The fate of a princess now engaged to her mortal enemy should be the very least of his concerns.

Still, Cleo’s new betrothal bothered him deeply.

Chapter 2

CLEO AURANOS

“Today I am pleased to announce the betrothal and upcoming marriage between my son, Prince Magnus Lukas Damora, and Auranos’s beloved Princess Cleiona Aurora Bellos.” Cleo’s breath left her in a rush.

The world blurred before her eyes and there was a ringing in her ears. She felt a tug as the king pulled her closer, and the next moment something warm and dry grasped her hand. She looked up to see Magnus next to her, his face as impassive and unreadable as always. His black hair hung low over his forehead, framing his dark brown eyes as he focused on the crowd—a crowd that cheered and yelled as if this stomach-churning horror was wonderful news.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Magnus dropped her hand and turned toward his mother, who had taken hold of his arm.

Aron grabbed her wrist and drew her back into the castle past the others on the balcony. His breath, as always, smelled like wine and acrid cigarillo smoke.

“What just happened out there?” he hissed.

“I—I’m not sure.”

Aron’s face was as red as a beet. “Did you know this would happen? That he planned to break our engagement?”

“No, of course not! I had no idea until . . . until—” Oh goddess, what just happened? It couldn’t be true!

“He can’t change what is meant to be.” Aron was so livid he was literally spitting. “We’re supposed to be together, no one else! It was decided!”

“Of course we are,” she managed to say, much more demurely than she felt. She had no deep affection for handsome but vapid Lord Aron, but she would rather spend a thousand years in his constant company than an hour alone with Magnus.

The dark prince had killed the first boy she’d ever loved— stabbed him through the back with a sword while he’d been trying to protect her. The memory of Theon’s death made a fresh swell of grief rise within her, hot and thick enough to choke on.

Imprisoned for weeks at the palace after her capture, Cleo had experienced the very depths of despair and grief—for Theon, for her father, for her sister, Emilia. All ripped away from her. Such sorrow had carved a cold, bottomless hole in her chest that could never be filled. She could lose herself in such darkness if she wasn’t careful.

“I can fix this.” The scent of wine on Aron’s breath was even greater than normal today. His gaze moved toward the king as he exited the balcony. “Your majesty, it’s imperative that I speak with you immediately!”

The king wore a bright smile on his face to match the golden, ruby-encrusted crown Cleo’s fingers itched to tear from his head. That crown and everything it represented belonged to her father.

It belonged to her.

“Of course I’d be happy to speak with you on any matter, Lord Aron.”