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“She’s changed too,” Jonas said, trying not to let on how flattered he was. “She’s been through immeasurable pain, and has only grown stronger from it.”
“Yes. She’s a glowing example to us all.” Magnus eyed the blade that was still at his throat. “So let’s go inside and talk, then, just the three of us.”
Jonas had two choices. He could assume that Magnus was a manipulator and a liar, just like his father, and follow through on his initial plan to end his life right now. Or, he could take a risk—the ultimate risk—and trust the claims of his sworn enemy in the hopes of benefiting the greater good.
He was still haunted by the pained and disappointed look on Felix’s face when he’d learned that Jonas believed the worst about him despite months of loyal friendship. Of course Felix had lied about his past. He did it because he wanted a new beginning, to be free from his past mistakes.
Jonas wished he could go back to that night and make a different choice.
Forcing himself to put Felix out of his mind, he sheathed his sword and offered Magnus a hand. Magnus grabbed his wrist and got to his feet.
They eyed each other for a silent moment.
“This feels very strange,” Jonas admitted.
“For us both.”
Magnus led him to a palace entrance, where two guards opened the doors for their prince.
“Guards,” Magnus gestured toward Jonas, “this boy here is a known rebel. Remove his weaponry and put him in chains. Then bring him to the throne room.”
Jonas grabbed for his sword, but the guards slammed him to the ground before he even touched the hilt.
“And send for the princess,” Magnus said. “It’s time we all had a nice little chat.”
• • •
Jonas wasn’t sure what felt worse: losing his weapons, or losing his mind.
The latter, he thought. Definitely the latter.
Jonas had no one to blame but himself for believing the prince’s lies. The only relief he felt came from the fact that Lys and Olivia were still safe in the village. But that bright spot was quickly snuffed out when he was brought into the throne room, in chains as requested, where he saw both Olivia and Lysandra standing helplessly with their hands bound behind their backs.
“What are you doing here?” he hissed.
Olvia shrugged. “We followed you.”
“I told her we probably shouldn’t,” Lysandra said. “But she convinced me.”
“And now . . . ?” Jonas prompted the witch, hoping she would wield her elementia and somehow break them free. “Can you do anything?”
“I’d rather see what happens next and take it from there.”
“‘See what happens next’?” he repeated, stunned.
The earth Kindred sat at the bottom of the satchel he’d given to Lysandra before trespassing on the palace grounds. Where was it now?
“Please do alert me when you’re finished talking amongst yourselves.” Magnus’s voice drew Jonas’s attention to the dais, where the prince sat upon his father’s black throne.
“We’re finished,” Jonas snarled.
“Good.” He flicked his hand at a guard. “Bring her in.”
The guard opened the doors and Princess Cleo entered the throne room. For a moment, all Jonas could do was stare at her, grateful that she was every bit as beautiful—and alive—as the last time he’d seen her. At least the prince hadn’t been lying about that.
She took three graceful strides inside before her steps faltered. Her wide-eyed gaze went from Jonas to Magnus and back again.
“What’s going on?” she demanded.
