Jonas had heard about the murder of Theon Ranus over the last few days and how the former Auranian guard had been involved with Cleo before Magnus had stabbed him through the back.
Yet another reason for Cleo to despise Magnus, he thought. He’d had no clue about any of this, but that Cleo had lost someone she cared about . . . just like Jonas had lost Lys . . . it only made him feel closer to her.
Taran had every right to seek vengeance on the prince, but it was nothing but a distraction from the larger problem of Amara and the king, of three magical crystal orbs imprisoning elemental gods, and of Jonas’s own need for vengeance against the fire Kindred for killing Lysandra.
“Fine,” Jonas said, absently scratching his chest. “You and Taran can do what you want when it comes to the prince. But I want no part of it.”
“Agreed.”
Jonas scanned the deck, seeing Taran and Felix and a few crew members, but one person was notably missing. “Where’s that other prince we need to worry about?”
Nic didn’t reply for a moment. “Likely in his quarters, being silent and meditating, or whatever it is prophesied phoenixes do to spend their time while at sea.”
With each day that passed, Jonas felt more and more sure that allowing Ashur passage aboard this ship had been a mistake. At best, he was simply the misguided brother of the power-mad empress who’d used and manipulated Felix nearly to death; at worst, he was completely insane and would get them all killed.
Jonas had never been much of an optimist.
“Do you believe the legend is true?” Jonas asked.
“I don’t know,” Nic said, exhaustion and sadness in his tone. “All I know for sure is that I watched him die, and now here he is, alive and aboard the very same ship we are.”
“Have you ever heard that legend before? Of somebody who’s returned from death to be the savior of the world?”
Nic shrugged. “When I was a kid, I remember reading a story that was very similar. But there are thousands of legends that aren’t true.”
“The Watchers are a legend that’s true,” Jonas pointed out.
“Yes, and it’s possible that this phoenix tale could be the same.” He noticed Jonas still scratching his chest. “Do you have a rash?”
Jonas grimaced. “No. I guess this long journey to Mytica is making me itchy with impatience.” He paused. “Listen, you know Prince Ashur better than any of us. Right?”
“Well, I’ve known him longer,” Nic allowed.
“I need to know more about his plans. If he sees you as a friend, he’ll trust you. You need to uncover the truth about why he’s not simply marching up to his evil sister and taking his rightful place as emperor.”
“I can tell you why. Because Amara would try to kill him again. Besides . . . I don’t think he wants to be interrupted when he’s meditating.”
Just the word meditating raised Jonas’s hackles. That was what Chief Basilius claimed to be doing when he believed himself to be a prophesied sorcerer who would save the world.
He’d been certain the chief’s belief had to do with Princess Lucia’s prophecy, but perhaps this phoenix legend had further reach into Paelsia.
“Talk to Ashur,” Jonas said. “Seek his guidance. Rekindle your friendship.”
“You mean you want me to spy on him for you.”
“Yes, exactly.”
Nic let out a long, shaky sigh.
Jonas frowned. “Unless there’s some reason why you’d rather keep avoiding him. Is there something I need to know?”
“No, no,” Nic said, perhaps a bit too quickly, Jonas thought. “I’ll go now, see what he’s up to. You can depend on me, Jonas. Whatever I have to do to ensure Cleo’s safety, I’ll do it.”
Jonas nodded. “Glad to hear it.”
He watched as Nic nodded and left, his steps tentative at first but growing more purposeful as he disappeared around a corner.
“Something’s up with those two,” said Felix, sidling up behind Jonas. “I don’t know what it is, but I’ll figure it out.”
The sour scent of seasickness hit Jonas like a slap, and instinctively he covered his nose with his sleeve and glared at his friend.
“You stink,” he said.
Felix shrugged. “Sorry.”
“Do you mean you’ll figure out what’s going on between Nic and Ashur?”
“Yeah.”
“Friendships can be confusing—especially when they involve royals.”
“Wouldn’t know. Never been friendly with a royal before.”
“What about Amara?” Jonas regretted his question the moment it left his lips. A stony look crept over Felix’s face, obliterating anything soft or lighthearted. “Apologies. Forget that I mentioned her.”
“Wish I could forget her.” A muscle in Felix’s right cheek twitched. He stroked his eye patch as his good eye glazed over with deep thoughtfulness.
It was that same unsettling, blank look again, one Jonas had seen several times on his friend’s face. It was the look Felix got just before he killed someone.
Olivia had healed Felix’s superficial wounds, but some injuries went deeper than skin and bone.