“Then let me make it very clear to you, princess. You’re not going back to the palace. Not a chance. Got it?”
Cleo began pacing back and forth in the cramped space, her heart pounding. “The king will not agree to any rebel demands to have me released—but he still wants me back for the wedding to his son. The road will continue on and your keeping me here will have no effect at all. The longer you hold me hostage, the more people will die!”
“I thought I already explained to you, princess, that in war people die. It’s the way it is.”
“But your plan isn’t working. Don’t you see? Keeping me in your camp does nothing except give King Gaius full permission to kill. My absence has not solved any problems for me or for you; it’s only created more of them. I must find the search party and . . .” She tried to picture it, what she could possibly do to end this without more blood spilled. “And I’ll tell them I escaped during their attack. That’s why I took my hair down; they’ll recognize me immediately, even in these clothes. They’ll take me back.”
“And then what?” His tone grew sharper. “Nothing has changed.”
“Nothing will change if we continue along this path.”
Jonas stared at her as if he honestly couldn’t understand why she insisted on arguing this point. “Is forest living too hard for you? Too scary to make your home deep in the Wildlands with the rest of us? Need to return to your luxurious life? To your beloved betrothed, Prince Magnus?”
Her cheeks flushed. “I despise him every bit as much as his father.”
“Words, princess. How am I to believe them? Perhaps you’re so committed to the prince and your upcoming royal wedding that you’re having second thoughts about the defeat of King Gaius if it means joining me and living away from such luxuries. After all, your road to become queen is split into two paths, isn’t it? One is alone as heir to the throne of Auranos, the other is on the arm of the Prince of Blood when he takes his father’s place.”
This boy seemed to live and breathe to argue with her. “Don’t you remember, Jonas? You yourself told me that would never happen. That they’d kill me before I ever become queen, no matter what. You think that’s suddenly changed?”
He faltered. “I don’t know.”
“Exactly. You don’t know. Apart from those who are being slaughtered by the king’s men, I have friends at the castle who are in danger without me there. And—and I have something else of great value I can’t turn my back on.”
“What?”
“I can’t say.” The ring was a secret that she refused to share with anyone. She desperately wished she had it with her right now.
Jonas glared at her. “Princess, you are such a—”
But then he froze, grabbed the candle to snuff out its flame, and pushed her against the wall.
Then she heard what he had—voices outside the safety of the cave. The guards had returned to give the area another sweep. Her heart pounded so loud she was certain it would give away their location. It felt like hours that they stayed like that, as quiet and still as marble statues. Pressed up against him, Cleo smelled his scent again, pine needles and open air.
“I think they’re gone,” he said at last.
“Perhaps I should have called out to them. They could have rescued me from you.”
Jonas snorted softly. “I’m good, but I’m not sure I could take on a dozen guards to save not only my neck but yours as well.”
He was so unbelievably frustrating! “Sometimes I really hate you.”
Finally Jonas eased back from her a fraction. “The feeling is entirely mutual, your highness.”
He was still too close to her, his breath hot against her cheek. She couldn’t put her thoughts in proper order. “Jonas, please, would you just consider—”
But before she could speak another word, he crushed his mouth against hers.
It was so unexpected that she hadn’t the chance to even think of pushing him away. His body pressed her firmly against the rough cave wall. His hands slid down to her waist to pull her closer to him.
And just like that, with his proximity, with his kiss, he managed to fill her every sense. He was smoke from the campfire, he was leaves and moss and the night itself.
There was nothing gentle in the rebel’s kiss, nothing sweet or kind. It was like nothing she’d ever experienced before, and so very dangerous—every bit as deadly as the kiss of an arrow.
Finally, he pulled back just a little, his dark eyes glazed as if half drunk.
“Princess . . .” He cupped her face between his hands, his breath ragged.