Cleo went cold. “Nothing’s happened, has it?”
Onoria remained silent and averted her gaze.
Brion shoved the stick back into the fire, moving the burning wood around. “Nope. And, honestly? I doubt it will.”
She stared at him speechlessly for a moment. “I told Jonas it was pointless. The king doesn’t want me back alive—at least, not enough to meet the demands of a rebel. The wedding is inconsequential to him—as am I.”
“Oh, don’t worry, you’re not,” Tarus said, which earned him a sharp look from both Brion and Onoria. “What? Doesn’t she have the right to know?”
Cleo’s chest tightened. “Know what?”
Brion shrugged, his expression grim. “Jonas doesn’t want me to say anything to you.”
She grabbed the sleeve of his tunic until he finally looked at her. “All the more reason why you must tell me.”
He hesitated only another moment. “King Gaius has sent out search parties for you. They’ve been scouring Auranos and Paelsia from coast to coast.”
“And?”
“And he’s leaving a trail of bodies behind, butchered, of anyone who gets in his way or refuses to answer questions. All of them dead as a lesson to others that he’s serious—that he wants you found as soon as possible. So does he seem to want you back so you can marry his son right on schedule ten days from now? Yes. Is he willing to free the slaves on his Blood Road to do it? Afraid not.” Brion’s voice grew quieter, and he began to put out the fire, standing up to kick dirt on it. “I guess you’ll be joining us permanently, princess. Welcome to your new home.”
She went colder with every word he spoke. “No, you’re wrong. Jonas is wrong. I can’t stay here.”
“The more harm the king does out there, the more Auranians will see he isn’t as benevolent and generous as he claims to be in his speeches. They will finally see that he’s their enemy, not a true king to be obeyed and respected.”
Her thoughts raced. “Perhaps. But the king is going to tear apart this entire kingdom and kill anyone who stands in his way until he finds me. He wants everyone to see that I’m valuable to him—that he cherishes the princess of Auranos. Even though he couldn’t care less about my life if it didn’t help him fool the people into behaving themselves and not giving him any problems. Am I wrong?”
Brion’s expression had lost every bit of its previous humor. Onoria and Tarus looked on grimly. “Unfortunately, I don’t think you’re wrong at all.”
With the bonfire out and the camp now in darkness, Cleo looked up to see a glimmer of stars and a bright full moon beyond the ceiling of leaves. Across the camp, through the shadows, her gaze moved to Jonas, who was speaking to Lysandra, the muscles in his back tense.
“Jonas!” she called out to him.
He turned to look at her, moonlight highlighting his handsome face—just as an arrow pierced through the air and sliced into his shoulder.
He grasped the arrow and tore it out, his pained gaze frantic as he sought hers again. “Run, Cleo. Run now!”
Dozens of red-uniformed guards spilled into the camp. Cleo scanned her immediate surroundings for a weapon—a knife, an ax, anything that could give her some protection and the chance to help fight back against their attackers. But there was nothing.
A guard in a red uniform was headed directly toward her, his sword drawn.
With a frantic look over her shoulder to see her new rebel friends scatter in every direction, she began to run, ducking past trees and bushes in an attempt to escape the guard. Her impractical palace shoes, a stark contrast with the rest of her simpler clothes, sank into the soft dirt with every step.
But the guard was too fast to outrun. He easily caught up to her and grabbed hold of her, turned her around, and slammed her into a tree trunk so hard that she lost her breath and her vision swam. “Tell me, little girl, where is Princess Cleiona?”
When she couldn’t find the air to speak, to respond to his harsh demands, he peered closer at her, his sword biting into the skin at her neck. For a moment she was terrified he would slice her throat wide open and leave her there to bleed to death before she could claim her identity.
But then there was a flicker of recognition in his cruel, narrowed eyes. Even with her hair wrapped tightly into a bun, her face dirty, her clothes that of a Paelsian rebel, did he still recognize her as the princess he’d been sent out to find?
An arrow whizzed so close to her face that she felt the wind from it as it caught the guard in the side of his neck. He stumbled back from her, clawing at his throat as blood gushed from him with each beat of his heart. He dropped to the ground, thrashing in the moss and leaves for a moment longer and then went still. Before Cleo could think, could take a breath, Jonas was there. Her heart leapt at the sight of him.