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“Ouch. You do have quite a grip on you, Cleo.”
“Shh,” she whispered. “Somebody’s watching us.”
He frowned. “What?”
They turned to see in the gathering light a tall, dark-haired boy moving toward them along the road. Cleo froze in place as he swiftly caught up to them. Her breath caught as she realized it was the very same boy who haunted her dreams.
Jonas Agallon.
“What are you—” she began.
He gave her an unfriendly grin. “Morning, princess. Such an honor to see you again.”
And then he slammed his fist into Nic’s face, dropping the boy to the ground. Nic scrambled back up to his feet immediately, his nose gushing blood.
Cleo screamed. “What are you doing?”
“Relieving you of your protection.” Jonas swung Nic around until he faced Cleo and pressed a dagger—the very same jeweled dagger that Aron had used to kill Tomas!—to Nic’s throat.
“Don’t!” she shrieked. “Please, no! Don’t hurt him!”
This was all happening too fast. How did he even know she was here?
“Don’t hurt him?” Jonas eyed her. Nic fought against him, but Jonas was much taller and more muscular. He was able to keep the skinny boy easily under control. “Are you saying that you care for him? That his death might cause you pain?”
“Let him go right now!”
“Why should I?” His dark-eyed gaze swept over her. She shivered under the coldness of his glare.
“Run, Cleo!” Nic shouted.
But she didn’t run. She would never abandon him like this.
“What do you want from me?” she demanded.
“That’s a dangerous question. I want lots of things, none of which would probably set your pretty mind at ease. For now, I want to kill your friend and watch you grieve his loss.”
“No, please!” She staggered forward with an immediate urge to grab his arm and wrench the knife away from Nic’s throat. But she knew she wasn’t nearly powerful enough to do that. This was a very strong boy, one who hated her for what happened to his brother. One who had threatened in public to kill her. She had to think. She had to remain calm so she could negotiate with this heathen.
“I can give you plenty of money if you spare his life.”
His expression turned to ice. “Money? How about fourteen Auranian centimos for each case of wine? Sounds fair, doesn’t it?”
Cleo swallowed and tried not to sound as if she was begging. “Don’t kill him. I know you hate me for what Aron did—”
His eyes flashed with anger. “Hate is such a small word for what I feel for you.”
“Your gripe is with me, then. Not with Nic. Let him go!”
“Sorry. I don’t follow orders very well.”
“You mean to kill me to avenge your brother’s death.” Her throat thickened with fear.
His expression tightened. “No. My goal today doesn’t include such a pleasure as that. Your friend here, on the other hand, might find that today is his last.”
“Cleo, are you deaf?” Nic snarled. “I told you to run!”
“I’m not leaving you!” Her voice broke and tears burned in her eyes.
