“Lucia! Stop!” he called. “I can help you!”

“Help me?” She gave him a bleak look. “My darling brother, it seems you can’t even help yourself.”

A wall of flames rose up to block his path and obliterated any sight of her.

CHAPTER 13

JONAS

LIMEROS

Finally, after a long, several-days’ journey, there it was: the Limerian palace, just visible in the distance.

As big and ugly as Jonas had always heard it was.

“Your job is to get something for us to eat and find us some rooms for the night,” Jonas told Lysandra and Olivia. They’d just stumbled upon a small village a little more than a mile away from the palace grounds.

“Fine,” Lys said as Jonas handed his satchel to her for safe keeping. “You’re still insisting that I stay behind while you go case the palace? Go ahead then, and lose your head all on your own.”

“I don’t know,” Olivia said. “Jonas is quite notorious. After all of his alleged crimes, I believe they would throw him in the dungeon rather than kill him outright.”

“Good point,” Lys said flatly. “They’d want enough time to draw a crowd of spectators before removing his head.”

Jonas glared at them as he adjusted his eye patch. “Thank you both for your confidence in my abilities. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

He left them without another word and quickly made his way to the palace. He’d been to Limeros before, but never to the palace itself, and he had no idea what kinds of barriers to entry awaited him there.

Unlike the Auranian palace, there was no wall surrounding the castle to separate it from the landscape. Instead, there was a tall watchtower about a quarter mile from the castle gates, along the single road leading toward the massive black granite structure. Any visitors or deliveries would first need to stop here, be questioned by the armed guards, who would log their names and purpose before giving or denying them permission to continue on.

Jonas saw just a sliver of all this from beneath a canvas tarp and between two large sacks of potatoes, in the back of the wagon he’d snuck onto.

The security here paled in comparison to that in the City of Gold. Then again, the kingdom of Limeros had not had waged a battle on its land in . . .

Jonas thought hard. His knowledge of Mytican history wasn’t vast, but he couldn’t think of any significant battle ever fought on Limerian land.

No wall, few guards, and one big ugly black castle that would be very easy to breach.

The thought made him smile.

After clearing the guards at the gate, the rickety wagon continued on. Once they’d moved closer to the palace, Jonas quietly slipped off. Scanning the area, searching for signs of any hidden red-uniformed guards and finding none, he began to explore the grounds.

The winds that raced across the snowy plains surrounding the palace were the harshest he’d ever felt, and he pulled on the thick pale gray cloak he’d stolen on their journey. It camouflaged him well in this monochromatic winterscape. He passed a small lake, completely covered by a sheet of ice punctured with a few holes for ice-fishing. Next he approached a gigantic structure made of what appeared to be chiseled ice, and when he got closer he realized it was a life-sized maze. It seemed a rather frivolous detail for a kingdom that prided itself on its austerity.

Only more proof that King Gaius was nothing more than a hypocrite.

Jonas stopped short when he heard the not-too-distant sound of voices. When he was sure they were drawing closer to him, he ducked behind the western wall of the maze.

“You’ve always thought the worst of me.”

“You’ve given me no reason to think of you any other way.”

Jonas didn’t recognize the first male voice, but the second was one he could never forget.

Prince Magnus Damora.

Jonas peeked out from his hiding spot by the maze to watch the scuffle play out, stunned by the good luck he had today.

Just the prince he’d been looking for.

“Your highness, I am your loyal servant,” the slender and tall young man said in a sniveling tone.

“Really. Is that why you’d try to turn the council against me?”

“Their opinions are their own. Why would they listen to me?”

Magnus chuckled humorlessly. “Lord Kurtis, you remind me of your father: a man who tries to expand his power by manipulation rather than by skill or intelligence.”

“In case you’ve forgetten, I’m still Grand Kingsliege here. That title comes with power of its own, given to me by the king himself. You can’t take that away from me, not even if you try to slit my throat again.”

“What an excellent suggestion.”

“I don’t think your wife would like that very much.” Lord Kurtis paused, his eyes narrowing. “You know, Princess Cleo and I, we’ve become very close friends.”

Jonas’s heart leapt at the name.

Magnus’s expression remained cold. “Let me guess. You’re trying to turn her against me as well? That won’t be nearly as much effort as you might think.”

“I know she hates you. But I’m not so sure the feeling is mutual.”

This statement had coaxed a scowl from the prince. “Trust me. It is.”

A cold smile now played at Kurtis’s lips. “Such a lovely, fragile creature. Have I told you how much she reminds me of a summer butterfly? So beautiful and rare—yet so easily crushed if it comes to rest on the wrong hand.”

In an instant, Magnus grabbed the young man by his throat and slammed him back against the ice wall.

“Mark my words . . .” he growled as Kurtis sputtered, his face turning red in an instant. “. . . if you challenge me again, I will bury you so deeply in this frozen ground that you’ll never be found. Do you understand?”

Kurtis stopped his wheezing and choking when Magnus released him. His eyes now blazed with hatred, but he nodded his head once in agreement.

“Now get out of my sight.”

There was no more conversation, only the crunch of boots on snow as Lord Kurtis departed.

Once he was sure Magnus was alone, Jonas didn’t hesitate another moment. He rounded the corner, drew his sword, and placed it against the neck of Prince Magnus, who shot him a rather gratifying look of shock.

“Now, where were we?” Jonas asked. “I believe the last time we saw one another, I was about to kill you when we were rudely interrupted.”

“I remember. Watchers and magic and elemental wildfires.”

“Indeed.”

Magnus raised an eyebrow. “Nice eye patch, Agallon. And the hair . . . a very innovative look for a Paelsian. I assume that’s supposed to be your masterly disguise?”

“On your knees.” Jonas pressed the blade harder against the prince’s flesh. “Now.”

Slowly, Magnus lowered himself to the ground.

“Are you going to kill me?” Magnus asked.

“I’ve learned my lesson. Why hesitate when you can finish things right away?” Jonas couldn’t help but revel at this incredible victory. “But first, tell me where Cleo is.”

“Cleo,” Magnus repeated. “Yes, of course you’d be one of the privileged few who don’t address her by her royal title, being allies and all. Is she expecting your arrival today?” When Jonas didn’t respond, Magnus ventured to look up, his brow raised. “Oh, please. She confessed everything. I know that she helped you and your little rebels plan the wedding-day attack. Too bad it didn’t play out nearly as smoothly as you’d hoped.” The prince smiled darkly at Jonas’s stunned silence. “It’s all right, Agallon. She’s very convincing when she wants to be. Could wrap a dull-minded boy like you around her little finger as easily as she flips her golden hair.”