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He raised a brow. “You’re suggesting that Nic, Lys, Olivia, and I just run off and leave you here, all alone with a prince who could very well be plotting your demise?”
“I’ll be fine. I can take care of myself.”
“Yes, you’ve proven that very well.” He rubbed his chin and frowned. “I will say this much: Your plan is much more intriguing than mine.”
She tried not to smile at this. “High praise, rebel.”
“You really think the prince will just let us leave the palace so easily?”
“Your own plan was to leave, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, but that was with the certainty we wouldn’t ever return. The security here isn’t as impenetrable as it is in Auranos, but it’s still a palace, and there are still numerous sentries who keep watch over all who enter or leave these grounds.”
The rebel had made an excellent point. And even if Magnus hadn’t officially announced to everyone here that the Paelsian rebel leader was currently a “guest” at the castle, he would have many questions if, suddenly, Jonas and his friends were to wander off unexpectedly.
“I’ll speak with Magnus and give him an excellent reason for your temporary leave,” she said with a confident nod. “I’ll keep the earth Kindred here with me. That exiled Watcher may have been very kind and wise, but I’m not sure I trust even her with it.”
Jonas crossed his arms and studied her. “And it’ll be just that easy, will it? He’ll simply take your word without question?”
“He’ll have to. Otherwise my plan won’t work.”
“No, princess. Let me handle it. If I’m to agree to this, I don’t want you tangled up in it at all. When he asks about me, you will simply say you have no idea where we went, that I left without saying a word. I’ll deal with the ramifications when I return.”
Her heart lifted. “So you’re saying you’ll do this? You’ll go?”
Jonas paced to the other side of the small room, his arms still folded tightly over his chest.
She held her breath as she waited for his answer.
Finally, Jonas turned to face her again and gave her a grin. “It would be my honor, your highness. But when I come back, surely successful and impossibly heroic, I will ask for something in return. Something I haven’t had in far too long.”
Her heart leapt. “Anything. What is it?”
His smile grew. “A kiss from a princess.”
CHAPTER 17
LUCIA
PAELSIA
If Kyan learned about Lucia’s dream visit with Timotheus, he’d be furious. And since Lucia had quickly learned during their travels that the best kind of fire god was a calm fire god, she’d chosen not to speak a word of it to him.
Still, the dream had troubled—not to mention annoyed—her. Timotheus’s goal had been to dissuade her from helping Kyan, but his abrasive manner and disrespectful words had only succeeded in renewing her commitment to the fire god’s cause. Had Alexius been even half as unpleasant as his elder, Lucia wouldn’t have bothered with him at all.
In hindsight, that would have been much better for everyone.
She put that hateful encounter with Timotheus out of her head and focused on her current quest: finding her true family.
Lucia and Kyan had been working together to pull information out of various Mytican witches through a combination of fire storms and truth extraction, and finally they had a solid lead to follow.
This lead took them to the village of Basilia near Trader’s Harbor in Paelsia. The village was surrounded by vineyards, and thus its citizens subsisted on profits made from visiting ships and wine exports to Auranos. Thanks to its prime port location and never-ending cycle of visitors and merchants, Basilia was the most affluent and luxurious village in all of Paelsia, with comfortable inns for weary travelers, busy taverns serving libations imported from all around the world, and plenty of brothels for sailors.
They entered a tavern called The Purple Vine, already buzzing with patrons despite the fact that it was only midday.
The first thing Lucia noticed was that she was one of only five women there, and that the vast majority of the male patrons were loud and big and lewd, yelling and slamming their tables and calling out for more food and drink. And the smells—every odor from burnt goat’s meat to the sour stench of unwashed armpits—had Lucia wanting to turn right around and go back outside, promising lead be damned.
“This is fascinating,” Kyan said, smiling as he scanned the crowd. “Mortals at play.”
