Cleo reeled from this possibility. She’d known there was unrest—but war? “As if you’d care about something like that. I’d think someone like you would relish any chance to spill blood.”
“I don’t really care what you think.”
“You would use me against my father? Hold me hostage? You make me sick.”
His grip on her tightened painfully. “Your silence is worth any price to me right now. So be quiet or I’d be happy to cut out your tongue, your highness.”
Cleo stopped talking. She went quiet and still, as docile as she was capable of being, and he continued to lead her along the road. Past the village, it turned into a smaller muddy path. A brown rabbit darted in front of them and into a meadow with tall grass—surprisingly green for this otherwise faded, dreary landscape. She didn’t ask any more questions. She knew he wouldn’t answer them. And she didn’t want to risk losing her tongue.
Finally, fooled by her suddenly calm demeanor, Jonas let go of her arm long enough to wipe the back of his hand across his forehead.
Without a moment’s hesitation, she bolted away from him, feet quick as the rabbit’s as she left the path and burst into wide, grassy meadow. If she could reach the forest on the other side, she might be able to hide until nightfall. Then she’d find her way back to the harbor. And escape.
But before she made it to the tree line, Jonas caught up to her. He grabbed hold of the back of her dress, pulling her to a rough stop in the tall grass. It was abrupt enough that she stumbled, fell, and slammed her head against a chunk of stone protruding from the earth.
Darkness fell all around her.
• • •
Princesses, in Jonas’s opinion, should be meek, polite, and easy to manage. So far, Princess Cleiona Bellos had been none of the above. Even the chief’s daughter Laelia, who spent much of her time either dancing erotically or playing with her snakes, was the more sweet and gentle by far.
This girl was a snake. And he wouldn’t underestimate her again.
Jonas twisted his ankle on the uneven ground as he raced after her. Pain and fury stormed through him. If she’d just knocked out her brains so they oozed onto the stone, a weathered sculpture that he now saw was in the shape of a wheel, he would be happy to stand here and rejoice. Instead, he waited and tested his bad ankle. At least it wasn’t broken.
As he stared down at her, impatience turned his entire body tense and jittery. “Wake up.”
She stayed still.
He studied her face. He couldn’t deny that she was lovely . . . maybe even the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. But the most beautiful girl could still be deceptive and evil.
“Wake up,” he demanded. “Now.”
He nudged her with the tip of his boot but received no response.
Jonas swore loudly and crouched down at her side, jabbing the dagger blade-side down into the dirt next to her so he could have both hands free. Then he felt at her throat for a pulse.
There was one.
“Too bad,” he breathed, although part of him was deeply relieved. He studied her face, pushing the silky hair back from it. She was tiny, a foot shorter than him and at least seventy pounds lighter. Her pale lavender dress was made from the finest silk—he’d never seen anything like it before. She wore tiny blue sapphires in her pierced ears and a green stone ring on her finger, but that was the sum total of her jewelry. Smart, since any flashier jewelry to go along with her fine clothes would have undoubtedly made her more of a target for thieves. Her face was free of the paint Laelia wore, but her cheeks were still bright and sun-kissed and her lips the color of roses. Unconscious, she didn’t seem nearly the cold, manipulative, rich bitch he’d fully decided she was.
Finally her eyelashes fluttered open.
“It’s about time, your highness. Did you have a nice nap?”
Then Jonas jerked back, startled, as the sharp tip of his dagger pressed up against his chin.
“Get away from me,” the princess snarled.
He didn’t need to be told twice. He carefully shifted back from her, surprised that she’d managed to pull the weapon out of the ground without him noticing. Just as he’d begun to think she was harmless and vulnerable, the beautiful snake had managed to sharpen her fangs. She got up awkwardly, keeping the dagger trained on him, and retreated to the other side of the stone wheel that she’d fallen over.
He eyed her warily. “So now you have my dagger.”
“I have Aron’s dagger.”
“Finders keepers. He left in stuck in my brother’s throat.”
The hardness in her eyes softened and they grew shiny with tears.
He scoffed. “You can’t think I honestly believe you feel bad about that.”
“Of course I do!” Her voice broke.
“Your Lord Aron killed him without a second thought. Despite this, you’ve still agreed to marry him, haven’t you?”
When she laughed, it was a sound removed from humor. “I loathe Aron. Our engagement was not my choice.”
“Interesting.”
The hardness returned to her gaze. “Is it?”
“You have to marry someone you loathe. That makes me happy.”
“So glad my misfortune could help brighten your day.” She glared at him. “In any case, I have the knife now. If you come anywhere near me, I’ll be sure it finds your heart.”
He nodded gravely. “You do have my weapon. Very dangerous now, aren’t you? I suppose I should be frightened.”