The clarity that his people were dying, his land was fading, and while most—like his father—believed that it was fate, Jonas did not. The clarity that Auranos had everything and refused to give assistance or to return to the trade agreement that had gotten Paelsia into their grape-ridden mess in the first place. The clarity that, just like poaching from their land to feed the hungry bellies of his family, he could gladly poach their riches as well in the name of his brother.
Easy. With this army, Jonas believed they would succeed.
King Gaius had stepped in and offered his assistance and proved himself to the chief’s satisfaction. He’d earned the chief’s trust. But he’d never helped Paelsia in any other way before this. Only in this siege against Auranos did he suddenly appear with ideas and plans. With his ready army, trained for battle from oppressing his own people.
“What is it?” Brion asked. “You look like you’ve been chewing on the ass end of a goat.”
Jonas looked at his friend, opened his mouth, but then closed it again. “Forget it. It’s nothing.”
He couldn’t share his current thoughts with Brion, not when they were so dark and revolutionary. But still they rose to the surface and demanded his attention.
What if King Gaius changed his mind? What if he wanted all of Auranos to himself? If King Gaius played things the right way, he could conquer not one land...but two.
Everything would be his.
What if that had been his plan all along?
However, the question was, with the army that King Gaius commanded—Jonas looked around at it again, at the fierce men in their strong armor—why wouldn’t he have simply taken Paelsia first if that was his plan? Why bother teaming up with a weaker land? Why work so hard to gain Chief Basilius’s trust?
He sent a glance in the direction of King Gaius and Prince Magnus, riding their mounts, backs straight and tall in their saddles. Accompanying them was the Limerian princess, Lucia. At first glance, she appeared both beautiful and haughty to Jonas. He had no idea why they would bring her along on such a dangerous journey.
They looked so...royal.
Jonas hated royals—all of them. That much hadn’t changed. And yet the chief had irrevocably aligned himself and Paelsia with these royals. From this day forward, their destinies were joined.
Despite the warmth of the Auranian air, something deep inside him went cold at the thought.
Lost in her grief over Theon, Cleo had no clue how bad the conflict outside the palace walls was until she saw Aron in the halls of the castle pacing, his face strained with worry. Aron never looked worried unless he was worried about running out of wine.
Lost in her grief over Theon, Cleo had no clue how bad the conflict outside the palace walls was until she saw Aron in the halls of the castle pacing, his face strained with worry. Aron never looked worried unless he was worried about running out of wine.
She and Mira had been on their way to their afternoon art class. The tutor was an old man who hated being kept waiting, but Cleo grabbed Mira’s arm to bring her to a stop.
“What are you doing here, Aron?” she asked.
Aron laughed, but the sound held no humor. “Is that any greeting for your future husband?”
Her face tightened. “It’s so . . . wonderful to see you again, Aron,” she forced out.
He honestly thought he had the upper hand with her. But she was confident that her future and his were not destined to intertwine.
“I’m glad to see you, Aron,” Mira said sweetly. Cleo looked at her quizzically, but only for a moment. “But you’re looking a bit blanched. Is something wrong?”
“Wrong?” Aron said. “Oh, no, I can’t think of a thing. The palace is surrounded by savage enemies, but there’s nothing to worry about. Only our impending deaths!”
His near hysteria couldn’t breach the walls of Cleo’s sadness, which had rendered her oddly serene. “They won’t breach the walls.”
Their enemies had set up camp a few miles from the palace walls, but to her knowledge they hadn’t made any threatening move yet. Messages were being delivered back and forth between her father and the Limerian king and Paelsian chieftain. Their enemies demanded that the king surrender, but he refused. And he demanded that the Paelsians and Limerians turn around and go back to their homes.
Three days had passed since their arrival, and no one had budged an inch. Cleo was now forbidden to go anywhere outside the castle. She looked at Aron coolly. “Is that why you’re here? Have you and your parents taken refuge at the castle in case there’s a breach on the palace walls?”
Aron held his familiar gold flask to his lips. He took a long sip from it and then wiped his mouth off with the back of his hand. “Our villa isn’t nearly as well protected as the castle itself.”
“You think we’re in that much trouble?” Mira asked, distressed.
Nic approached from down the hall. Cleo looked at him with open gratitude on her face. If it wasn’t for Nic, she wouldn’t be standing here right now.
“What’s going on?” Nic asked. His gaze flicked to Cleo.
“Aron’s moved into the castle,” Mira informed him.
“Oh, don’t sound so disappointed, Mira,” Aron replied. “I know you like having me around. I’m the life of the party.”
Mira blushed.
“Why would anyone be disappointed at your presence?” Nic said. “You’re very welcome here, Aron. Anytime. My castle is your castle.”