Falling Kingdoms (29 page)

Jonas didn’t care if he was called a cockroach. They were resilient, strong, and resourceful creatures. It beat being called a savage. But he really didn’t like being told he was going to lose.

“You’re wrong. Our misery is over. But yours has just begun.”

Jonas threw all of his body weight toward the knight, taking him down to the ground hard. Throwing his blades to the side, he wrenched the knight’s sword out of his hands and pressed it against his throat.

“Surrender,” Jonas growled.

“Never. I fight for my king and kingdom. I won’t rest till every last one of you filthy savages is dead.”

Suddenly, there was a knife in the knight’s hand. Jonas felt the bite of pain as it pierced his side. Before it could burrow too deep, he rolled away, grabbing hold of the sword with both hands.

With every remaining piece of his strength, Jonas brought the sword down on the knight’s unprotected throat. The head flew away from the rest of the body. He wiped the spray of blood from his eyes with his sleeve.

He staggered to his feet and, in pain, fought his way back across the field, across the river that now ran with blood under the night sky. Hot, thick blood ran down his own side from his wounds, but he kept moving forward. Or...backward.

Through the thick curtain of forest to the other side, where the city of tents had been created. Hundreds milled about in the medical area—injured, dying. Wails of pain and misery met his ears.

Jonas kept moving, his legs weak. Finally he reached his destination—the chief’s tent. These tents—supplied by the Limerians—were larger than any Paelsian cottage he’d ever seen. This was where the elite rested and took their meals, which were lavishly prepared by dedicated cooks and servants.

While eleven-year-old boys fought and died in battle two miles away.

Basilius’s guards recognized Jonas despite his covering of fresh blood—his own and that of those he’d killed—so they didn’t protest when he pushed through the flap leading into the expansive, furnished tent. Bile rose in Jonas’s throat to see such luxury after what he’d just experienced for the last half day.

“Jonas!” the chief exclaimed with enthusiasm. “Please, come in! Join me!”

Exhaustion and pain made him stumble as he walked. He feared his knees would give out completely. The chief’s gaze went to his injured side and over his face, noting his wounds. “Medic!”

With only a word, a man approached and pulled at Jonas’s shirt to inspect his wounds. A chair was suddenly behind him and he sat down hard. It was a good thing since he’d become very dizzy and disoriented. His skin was cold and clammy. The world suddenly appeared dim at the edges. He worked hard to breathe normally and regain his strength.

The medic worked on him, swiftly cleaning and bandaging the wounds.

“So tell me,” the chief said with a big smile. “How goes the battle?”

“Haven’t you been meditating all this time? I thought maybe you could see us through the eyes of birds.” He wasn’t sure why he said this. A child’s story, he vaguely recalled. One his mother believed.

The chief nodded, his smile staying right where it was. “It’s a gift I wish I had. Perhaps it’s one I’ll develop in the coming years.”

“I wanted to talk to you personally,” Jonas forced out. He worried about Brion now, feeling guilt about leaving the battlefield before the siege had been successful. He’d lost sight of his friend early in the battle. Brion could be out there dying, with no one to protect him in case an Auranian came by to finish him off. Or an errant arrow pierced his defenseless flesh.

With Tomas gone, Brion was as close to a brother as Jonas had.

His eye burned, but he chose to believe it was caused by the smoke from the chief’s pipe. The scent of crushed peach leaves and something sweeter filled the air. Jonas recognized it as a rare herb found in the Forbidden Mountains that allowed pleasurable hallucinations.

“Please, speak freely.” Dismissing the medic, the chief waved a hand and sat down behind a table that had previously held a feast. The bones of the slaughtered goat scattered across the surface along with a dozen empty bottles of wine.

“I have concerns,” he began, his jaw tight. “About this war.”

“War is something to be taken very seriously. Yes. And you strike me as a serious boy.”

“Growing up in Paelsia, I didn’t have much of a choice about that, did I?” He tried to keep the bitterness out of his words, but he didn’t succeed. “I’ve worked in the vineyards since I was eight years old.”

“You’re a fine boy. Your work ethic is commendable.” The chief nodded. “I’m so impressed that my Laelia found you.”

More like the other way around. Jonas had found Laelia. He has spent time in her bed, listening to her gossip about her friends, to her stories about her hateful snakes, all in an attempt to gain the chief’s confidence so that he might convince him to rise up against the Auranians and take what should have been theirs.

Even if Tomas had never been killed, Jonas would still want that for his country.

But
this
—this was wrong. He felt the truth of it deep inside him.

There was no time to play games. Boys were dying on that field, giving their lives to get a few feet closer to the palace walls. He had to say what he’d come here to say.

“I don’t trust King Gaius.”

The chief leaned back in his padded chair and regarded Jonas with curiosity. “Why not?”

“There are more Limerians here than Paelsians. The king’s reputation precedes him—one of brutality and greed. What guarantee do we have that after we give our lives to help him take Auranos that he won’t turn around and kill us? Enslave us? All so he can keep everything for himself.”

The chief pursed his lips and puffed on his pipe. “You really feel this way?”

Frustration coursed through Jonas. His heart pounded. “We need to pull back. Reassess before there are more casualties. A boy died in front of me, barely eleven years old. While I want to see Auranos fall, I don’t want our victory to be painted with the blood of children.”

The chief’s expression turned grave. “I’m not one to start something and back away.”

No, he was one to start something and wait in his luxurious tent for it to be over. “But—”

“I understand your concerns, but you need to put your faith in me, Jonas. I have searched deeply within myself to find the answers I seek. And the answer is, alas, war. This will not end until it’s over. It’s my destiny to align with King Gaius. I trust him. He paid me blood sacrifice unlike any I have ever witnessed before. Incredible.” He nodded. “King Gaius is a good and honorable man who will hold true to every promise he’s made to me. I have no doubt about this.”

Jonas clenched his fists at his sides. “So if he’s so good and honorable, where has he been while our land has been dying? While our people are dying? Where was his assistance then?”

Chief Basilius sighed. “The past is the past. All we can do is look toward the future and try our very best to do whatever it takes to make it a brighter one.”

“Please, consider what I’ve said to you.” The more he’d spoken, the more convinced Jonas was that they were headed down a very dark and bloody path. What he’d seen on the field of battle had only been the beginning of the misery to come.

“Of course. I’ll consider everything. I value your opinion, Jonas.”

“What about your magic? Do you think you can use any of it to help us?”

The chief spread his hands. “That won’t be necessary. King Gaius tells me that he has a very special secret weapon at the ready once we make it through the palace walls. This is not a battle that will continue for days and weeks—or months. It will be over tomorrow. I promise you that.”

Jonas’s mouth was so dry he wished there was still some wine in one of those bottles. “What secret weapon?”

The question was met with an enigmatic smile. “If I told you that, it wouldn’t be a secret, would it?” The chief stood up and came around to Jonas’s chair to slap him on the back. Jonas tensed from the pain from his freshly patched-up wounds. “Trust me, Jonas. When all of this is over and we’re reaping the rewards of what we’ve earned here in Auranos, your wedding feast will be the grandest ever witnessed before in Paelsia.”

Jonas left the tent with the sound of the chief’s laughter echoing all around him. He might as well have spoken to a stone wall for all the good it did.

Bleakly, he looked up at the dark sky, speckled with bright stars and a heavy moon, and wondered why it didn’t show a single sign of the coming storm.

E
milia was now so ill that even lifting her head caused her pain and horrible nosebleeds. Cleo had taken over from Mira to read to her sister to take her mind off the battle raging outside the palace walls. The castle felt somber and gray and dismal. Cleo tried to find a ray of hope to cling to, but with each hour that passed since the siege began in full force, everything only seemed more bleak.

“Please, don’t cry.” Emilia’s voice caught. “I told you, you must be strong.”

Cleo wiped the tears from her cheeks and tried to concentrate on the writing of the small, worn book of poetry—one of Emilia’s favorites. “Can’t a strong person cry?”

“You mustn’t waste any more tears on me. I know you’ve shed so many already for Theon.”

Cleo had tried to make her peace with what had happened, but she felt as if the pain was still muffled, as though it was too new. Too raw and hadn’t fully hit her yet. Losing someone she’d only just started to love was bad enough, but the thought of losing Emilia too...

Cleo held her sister’s thin hand gently. “What can I do to help you?”

Emilia settled back on her multitude of colorful pillows. On her nightstand was a large bouquet of flowers Cleo had picked in the castle courtyard, the closest she could get to being outside. It was in the direct center of the castle, a large patch of walled greenery with apple and peach trees and a beautifully groomed flower garden. Both sisters liked to take classes out there when the tutors were agreeable.

“Be strong, that’s all,” Emilia said. “And try to spend more time with your friends in this strange and confusing time, not only with me. I don’t mind being alone tonight.”

Even in her current strife, the future queen of Auranos kept a stiff upper lip, just as she’d always been trained. It was very nearly amusing how unlike the two sisters were despite less than three years separating them in age—Emilia so mature and Cleo the opposite.

Cleo twisted her finger through a lock of her hair. “I’ve been trying to avoid them. Aron’s now lurking in the shadows. I never know when he’s going to jump out at me.”

This made Emilia laugh. “You mean, he isn’t out waving a sword around and trying to protect his future wife?”

Cleo gave her a squeamish look. “Don’t even joke about something like that.”

“I’m sorry. I know you find no humor in this situation.”

“None at all.” Cleo sighed shakily. “But enough about Aron. My foremost worry is your well-being, sister. And as soon as this battle is over, which I hope will be very soon, I’ll send a guard to Paelsia as I promised I would.”

“To search for this Watcher with healing seeds to help save my life.”

“Yes, and don’t say it with such skepticism. You’re the one who gave me the idea in the first place. Before, I didn’t even believe in magic.”

“Now you do?”

“I do. With all my heart.”

Emilia shook her head. “There’s no magic that can save me now, Cleo. It would be best that you try to accept what’s meant to be.”

Cleo stiffened. “Never.”

Emilia laughed again, although it was a weak sound in her chest. “So you believe that you can fight destiny and win.”

“Without a doubt.” As long as Emilia breathed, there was still hope for a way to cure her.

Emilia squeezed her hands. “Go, find Mira and Nic.”

“Should I send Mira to you later?”

“No. Let her have a night off from attending to me. I’m sure she’s having a difficult time worrying about the siege outside.”

“At least it’s a quiet siege. I think that must be a good sign.” If she didn’t already know something horrible was happening outside, she never would have guessed it. The sounds of battle did not penetrate the thick castle walls.

Emilia didn’t smile at this. She just looked tired and sad. “I hope so.”

“Tomorrow will be a better day.” Cleo bent over and kissed her sister’s cool forehead. “I love you, sister.”

“I love you too.”

Cleo slipped out of Emilia’s chambers and padded along the hallway. It was eerily quiet in the castle. The windows had all been blocked with boards.

Being cooped up gave her far too much time to think about Theon. She missed him being around, shadowing her at the castle, giving her stern looks when she did or said something mischievous. The relief on his face when he’d found her unharmed in Paelsia. The heat in his gaze when he admitted that he cared deeply for her.

And then, the surprised pain when the Limerian prince impaled him with a sword and stole his life forever.

She pushed away her tears as she moved through the same hallways they’d walked together. His loss was a constant weight on her heart, and it only grew heavier with each day that had passed.

She was so tired that she retired to her chambers rather than go in search of Mira and Nic. There, however, she found that she only stared at the ceiling, unable to sleep.

If she’d found the exiled Watcher, everything would be different. She would very possibly have the means now to return Emilia’s health and vitality.

Perhaps it
was
only a legend. It pained her to even consider this.

All that had kept her optimism and belief going had been Eirene’s stories. They’d been so alive, so real. Eirene had given Cleo hope.

She’d all but forgotten the old woman these past days. The envelope with the name of the local tavern owner, to whom Cleo had planned to send her gifts of gratitude through, had gone untouched and unopened.

“Good fortune will find those with pure hearts, even when all seems lost.”

They were Eirene’s parting words to her. All certainly seemed lost right now. Trapped in a castle, with no idea when she’d be able to safely leave again. Her sister fading away before her very eyes.

Cleo swung her legs out of bed, determined to find the envelope. Even if she was unable to send anything yet, she could gather what she needed in her spare time. Lately, she had a great deal of spare time.

The small envelope sat on her dressing table, beneath a pile of unread books. She picked it up and broke the seal.

Instead of an address, she was surprised to find a note and two tiny brown pebbles inside.

The note read:

Princess, please accept my apologies that I couldn’t tell you the truth about myself. It is a secret that I’ve held for many years that no one knows, apart from legend, not even my granddaughter. A pure heart is worth more to me than gold. Yours is such a heart. Use these precious seeds to heal your sister so she can help lead Auranos toward a brighter future. —Eirene

Cleo read the note three times before it began to make any sort of sense to her. But when it did, the note literally dropped from her hands.

Eirene had seen through her and Nic’s lies about being from Limeros. She’d known Cleo was the Auranian princess.

Even more than that—Eirene was the exiled Watcher herself. While they had searched for her, she had found them instead.

And Cleo had no idea.

She looked down at the tiny pebbles and her eyes widened. These were the grape seeds infused with earth magic. They’d been in her possession the entire time.

Two seeds that were capable of healing someone near death.

If she’d known this, she could have saved Theon’s life with one of them.

The hopeless thought wrenched her heart from her chest. She let out a loud cry of pain, then gave in to her grief and collapsed to the floor, drawing her knees tight to her chest.

Even while wracked with sobs, she knew she had no time for tears or regrets.

She had to get to Emilia.

Cleo forced herself up from the ground and ran for the door. She burst into the hallway, only to crash right into somebody. Nic staggered back a few feet away and gingerly rubbed his chest.

“Ouch. You do have a habit of frequently hurting me, Cleo.” He studied her red, swollen eyes with concern. “I heard a cry from your chambers. I thought you were in distress.”

Her heart fluttered like a hummingbird’s wings. “I was. I am. I—I have the seeds. Eirene...she was the Watcher.”

He stared at her blankly. “How much wine did you have tonight? I believe you might be even drunker than Aron.”

“I’m not drunk. It’s true.” Her heavy heart lifted. “Come. We much go to Emilia’s chambers immediately.”

“You really believe in magic?” he asked.

“Yes!”

He nodded and a grin crept across his face. “Then let’s go save your sister.”

They hurried through the hallways toward Emilia’s room, passing through a corridor where she caught part of a conversation between two guards.

“Their forces are relentless,” one said. “The palace walls aren’t impenetrable.”

“They’ve breached the walls?” Nic asked sharply, drawing Cleo to a halt.

The guards looked sheepish as if they hadn’t meant to be overheard.

“I’m afraid so,” one said, nodding gravely. “But they won’t get into the castle.”

“How can you sound so confident of that?” Cleo said, concern twisting inside her.

They exchanged a look. She might only be sixteen, but as princess they were obligated to answer her questions. “The doors of the castle are fortified by a witch’s spell.”

She looked at him with disbelief. “My father never told me this.”

“The spell is renewed every year by the same witch to keep it strong. But she won’t be much help to us anymore.”

“Hush,” his friend hissed.

“Why?” Nic asked. “Where’s the witch now?”

The first guard’s jaw tensed and his eyes shifted back and forth between his friend, Nic, and Cleo. “King Gaius sent her head to the king in a box three days ago. But it doesn’t matter. Whatever that bastard king tries to do now, the spell will still hold. He will fail.”

Cleo knew the king of Limeros had a horrible, bloodthirsty son, but it sounded as if he might be even worse—just as the rumors she’d heard about him threatened. “Why wouldn’t my father tell me any of this?”

“The king wants to protect you from the bad things that are happening.”

“So why are
you
telling us?” Nic asked.

“Because you have a right to know that we’re all in danger here.” His expression hardened. “The king has put us all at risk by refusing to surrender.”

Cleo inhaled sharply. “You think he should?”

“It would save a great many more deaths outside on the battlefield. Does he think that we can stay inside this castle forever, with or without a spell keeping the doors sealed? We’re no better than a cornered rabbit waiting for the wolf to tear out its throat.”

Cleo looked down her nose at this sniveling coward. “How dare you speak ill of my father? He’s making the best choice he can to keep Auranos strong. Yet you’d prefer he surrender to the King of Blood? Do you think that the world would be better then? Do you think those who have already lost their lives would be saved?”

“What do you know?” the guard asked darkly. “You’re only a girl.”

“No,” Cleo said firmly. “I am a princess of Auranos. And I support every one of my father’s decisions. And unless you too would like to find your severed head in a box, you’d do best to respect your king.”

There was now a cowed look to the guard’s expression as he lowered his head in deference to her. “My apologies, your highness.”

Cleo clutched the seeds so tightly in her hand they bit into her skin. “Get back to work,” she said icily before continuing on along the hall.

“That was brilliant, Cleo,” Nic said. “You defeated him with words.”

She gave him a sidelong look, almost amused. But worry creased her brow. “It’s not good out there, is it?”

He shook his head, his own amusement fading. “No. It isn’t.”

“Do you think we’ll lose?”

“King Gaius and Chief Basilius have a lot of men ready and willing to die for their cause. No matter how long this takes.”

“My father must never surrender.”

“If he feels he has no choice, he’ll have to.”

Cleo remembered the coldness in Prince Magnus’s eyes as he murdered Theon. She couldn’t bear to ever see him ever again. “No, he won’t.”

“Oh, no?”

She forced a confident smile, pushing away the dark memories. “Don’t you see? We can’t even think that we’ll lose—because we won’t. We’ll be victorious and send those greedy pigs back where they came from. Then when all is calm again, we can focus on helping those in Paelsia who really deserve our help rather than those who would steal our land in its entirety.”

“Put that way, I almost believe you’re right.”

“I am right.” Cleo held out the seeds in the palm of her hand. “These are going to make all the difference. When Emilia is healed, the world will be a brighter place full of endless possibilities.”

He nodded. “Then lead on, princess.”

When they arrived at Emilia’s door, Cleo didn’t bother to knock; she simply let herself in. Nic lingered at the door, respectful to her sister, who was tucked into bed. Cleo rushed to Emilia’s side, not able to keep from smiling. Emilia faced the window, too weak to even turn her head to see her sister enter her room.

Cleo could barely control her excitement.

“Emilia! You won’t believe what I have here. The seeds! Don’t ask me how it’s possible, but it is. This will cure your illness, I know it will.” Emilia didn’t reply, but Cleo continued. “Watchers are real—I met one, even though I didn’t realize it at the time. She seemed no different than you or me. And she wanted to help you.”