There was a hardness in Felix’s eyes that was foreign to Jonas. They showed no flicker of remorse for what he’d done, nor did they show any joy.

It was true: The guard would not have shown them mercy. He would have executed them without a moment’s hesitation.

“Much gratitude for saving my life,” Jonas said as Felix wiped his blades on the mossy ground before sheathing them.

“You’re welcome.” Felix peered into the dark forest. “I think your friend ran away.”

“He’ll be safer staying far away from me.” Jonas studied the bodies littering the area, then turned back to Felix warily. “You’re an assassin.”

With his fighting skills, his ease with a blade—it would have been obvious to anyone that he was a trained killer.

The coldness faded from Felix’s eyes as he grinned. “Depends on the day, really. One does what one must with the talents they have.”

That would be a confirmation. “So now what? I have far less gold than the wanted posters offer for my head.”

“Somebody’s a bit of a pessimist, isn’t he? With the king’s eyes everywhere lately, looking for anyone causing trouble, what I want is someone watching my back while I watch his. Why not partner up with the infamous Jonas Agallon, I say?” He glanced in the direction Rufus ran off. “I’m not seeing much competition. You need me. Simple as that.”

“You want to be a rebel?”

“What I want is to cause trouble and create mayhem wherever I can.” Felix’s grin widened. “If that makes me a rebel, then so be it. How about I start by helping you save your friends?”

Jonas continued to eye Felix with wariness, his heart pounding as fast as it had during the fight. “The guard was only telling us what we wanted to hear. We’ve no way to know if my friends are really in the palace dungeon.”

“There are no guarantees in this life, only strong possibilities. That’s enough for me.”

“Even if they are there, the dungeon would be impossible to breach.”

Felix shrugged. “I kind of like impossible challenges. Don’t you?”

Despite his best efforts to ignore it, hope had begun to well up in Jonas’s chest. Hope often led to pain. . . .

But hope could also lead to victory.

Jonas studied the tall, muscular boy who’d just taken out five guards single-handedly. “Impossible challenges, huh?”

Felix laughed. “The most enjoyable ones. So what do you say? Shall we be partners in anarchy?”

Felix was right about one thing: Jonas didn’t have a long line of skilled rebels waiting to fight by his side.

He relented, grasping hold of the fluttering hope inside of him and smiling. “Sounds like a plan.”

Felix grabbed Jonas’s outstretched hand. “And I promise I won’t run off into the forest with my tail between my legs like your friend back there.”

“I’d appreciate that.” Plans and schemes were already racing through Jonas’s head. The future suddenly seemed infinitely brighter.

“Tomorrow we get started on freeing your friends,” Felix said. “And sending as many of the king’s guards to the darklands as we can.”

As far as friendships went, Jonas thought, this was an excellent beginning.

CHAPTER 2

MAGNUS

AURANOS

Magnus had no appetite for a celebratory feast, yet that’s exactly what greeted him the day after he returned to the Auranian royal palace in the City of Gold. He’d just endured a grueling ride back from Paelsia and was now required to attend a banquet honoring his victory against the rebels.

Guests drank without restraint as bottle upon bottle of sweet Paelsian wine flowed like spring water. Not so long ago, Magnus would never have indulged in such frivolous things, which were forbidden in his homeland of Limeros.

But things had changed. Now, he’d decided, he would indulge whenever possible.

He arrived late. A few hours late, actually. He couldn’t care less about punctuality, but as the guest of honor he was supposed to have made a grand entrance, and it seemed as if he’d missed his initial introduction. He managed to enjoy three goblets’ worth of sweet wine before he was interrupted.

“Magnus.” The sound of the king’s voice cut through him like a blade. It was the first contact he’d had with his father since his return; Magnus had been purposely avoiding him.

He turned to meet his father’s cold, appraising gaze. King Gaius had dark brown eyes, just like Magnus’s, and their hair was the same nearly black shade—the king’s had not yet shown any sign of graying. His father wore his finest formal surcoat, made from richly woven charcoal gray cloth and bearing the Limerian symbol of intertwining snakes in red silk thread on the sleeves. Magnus wore a nearly identical coat, which was much too stiff and restrictive for such a warm day.

Standing with the king were Prince Ashur, a visitor from across the sea who had by now far outstayed his welcome in this kingdom, and a beautiful girl Magnus didn’t recognize.

“Yes, Father?” Magnus’s sheer hatred for the man before him caused his throat to constrict. He fought with all his strength to not let that hatred show on the surface.

Not here. Not yet.

“I’d like to introduce you to Princess Amara Cortas of the Kraeshian Empire. The princess has joined her brother Ashur as our most honored guests. Princess, I present my son and the heir to my throne, Prince Magnus Lukas Damora.”