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The guard had begun to sweat. “Three, my liege.”
“How many did you kill?”
A muscle in the guard’s cheek twitched. “The rebels are vicious, Lord Aron. They’re like wild animals, and—”
“Perhaps you did not hear my question correctly,” Aron snapped. “How many rebels did you kill of the three?” The guard blinked. “I’m afraid none today, my liege.” Aron glared at him with disgust. “Step back. Now.” The guard retreated.
What a complete jackass Aron was, spouting threat and intimidation as if he had the strength of will to back it up.
“Yes, your grace?” Aron asked evenly, noticing he’d gained the prince’s full attention.
“May I question the prisoner or would you like to have the honor?” It was an honest question, if offered on a slightly menacing level.
Aron gestured with his hand. “No, please. You go right ahead.”
How shocking. It was the correct answer. “Much gratitude, Lord Aron.”
Magnus indicated that the guards should bring the prisoner further into camp by the fire. There the rebel stood with his hands bound, but his shoulders were squared as he met Magnus’s gaze directly, without flinching.
“Welcome.” Magnus began with a smile, one that would mirror his father’s ease, if not the king’s famous charm. “I am Magnus Lukas Damora, crown prince and heir to the throne of Mytica.”
“I know who you are,” the boy said with distaste.
“Good. That will make things much simpler. To whom do I have the pleasure of addressing?”
The boy’s lips thinned, his eyes stony.
Magnus nodded to a guard, who backhanded the rebel. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, but his gaze only grew more defiant.
“To whom do I have the pleasure of addressing?” Magnus asked again. “This can go easy or it can go hard. The choice is yours. Answer my questions and I am capable of benevolence.”
The boy laughed at this, spitting out the blood that filled his mouth. “Prince Magnus benevolent? This I find hard to believe.”
Magnus’s smile thinned. “Your name?”
“Brion Radenos.”
“Very good, Brion.” Magnus leveled his gaze at the boy’s. “Now tell me, where is the rebel leader, Jonas Agallon?”
Brion cocked his head. “Jonas Agallon? Never heard of him before.”
This boy tried his patience. “You lie. Tell me where he is.”
Brion laughed at this. “Why would I?”
Magnus regarded him with distaste. “Jonas Agallon crept onto palace grounds and stole the life of Queen Althea. There is proof of this. He will pay for this with his own life.”
Brion’s brows drew together. “I’ve seen the posted reward for his capture; I’ve heard the rumors. But you’re wrong. I don’t care what proof you think you have, he had nothing to do with that murder.”
The anger swiftly rising inside Magnus literally made him tremble. The nearby guards glanced at each other uneasily. “For a moment, I thought you were intelligent. But you’re just a fool whose mouth is bigger than his brain.”
This observation received a cold glare. “Jonas didn’t kill the queen.”
More rage lit beneath Magnus’s skin. He reached out and grasped the boy’s throat. “I’ll ask one more time. Your helpful response will net you a reward and freedom rather than pain. Where is Jonas?”
“Kiss my arse.” The boy’s gaze flashed. “You think you’re so strong, so powerful. You’re not. You’re weakened by your blindness—just like your father. His greed will be his undoing. The people in Auranos will not be fooled forever by him. And they will rise up in great numbers along with Paelsians to crush the both of you. Maybe we can even convince the Limerians to join in as well as one great army against all who wish to oppress us.”
Magnus tightened his grip, causing the boy’s face to turn red. Brion spat and it caught Magnus in the eye. He released the boy and wiped the saliva away with disgust.
