“Auranians are certainly . . .” Brion paused to find the right word. “Adaptable?”

“Gullible’s more like it. It’s sickening.” A boy about their age strode past them and Jonas called out to him. “Do you live here?”

The young man had blond hair. He was dressed in the finest silk, a tunic the color of emeralds and decorated with gold-threaded details.

“I do,” the boy said, frowning as he swept his gaze over the pair’s torn and dusty cloaks. “You’re . . . not from around here, are you?”

Jonas crossed his arms. “We’ve come to Hawk’s Brow in search of information about how the people of this fine city are dealing with the new king.”

The boy’s gaze darted to others passing them by without second glances, and then to the far right where there were two of the king’s uniformed soldiers patrolling the next crossroads.

“Do you work for King Gaius?” he asked.

“Consider us independent researchers,” Brion replied.

The boy shifted his feet nervously. “I can only speak for myself, but I am more than happy to welcome a new ruler to Auranos. I have heard of his speech last week and all of the wonderful promises he made—about the construction of the road and the betrothal of his son to Princess Cleiona. We’re all very excited about the royal wedding next month.”

“Do you believe it’s a good match?” Jonas asked.

His expression grew thoughtful. “I do. And, if you ask me, the princess should be thanking the goddess for such a lofty betrothal. It shows that King Gaius is willing to put aside hard feelings for a smooth transition to his rule. He puts his new citizens first. And, really, not much has changed despite the”—again, his gaze moved toward the soldiers in red—“increased presence of his men.”

Not much has changed. Perhaps not for someone who spent his pampered life with his head stuck up his own arse. Jonas and Brion had talked to many in this city since they arrived yesterday and most had had the same response as this fool. Life had been easy before and, they believed, if they did as King Gaius instructed and didn’t cause problems, life would continue on that way indefinitely.

“Are you aware of a growing rebel presence in Auranos?” Brion asked.

The boy’s brows drew together. “Rebels? We don’t want any problems like that.”

“I didn’t ask if you wanted problems, but if you’d heard of them.”

“I have heard of a few scattered rebel groups—both Auranian and Paelsian—causing difficulties. Destroying property, inciting riots.”

Inciting riots? Brion and Jonas exchanged a curious glance.

Such rumors sounded as if the rebels were aimless in their goals. They were not. Everything Jonas chose to do—be it property destruction, poaching for food, or stealing a ready supply of weapons for practice and protection—was all to create a stronger group of rebels who would be ready to rise up fully against the king when the time was right. He also focused much of his attention on recruiting new rebels to enter his ranks.

Jonas’s main reason to journey to Hawk’s Brow was to source new recruits. As the largest city in Auranos, less than a half day’s journey from the City of Gold, it was a key area where Jonas knew he needed rebel support. Just that morning, Jonas had convinced a young and pretty Hawk’s Brow maiden to join their cause, and to await his future instructions. The riots this boy spoke of, though, must be the work of other factions—perhaps even Auranians. It was a good indication that they weren’t all as useless as this one.

The boy continued, “I’ve also heard that any rebels who are captured are put to death. What sane person would ever want to join their ranks?” His gaze then shifted with growing alarm between the two boys, as if realization had finally dawned on him with whom he spoke. “I, uh, really must be on my way. I hope you enjoy the rest of your day.”

“Oh, we will,” Jonas called after him as he scurried away without another word. “We certainly will.”

“Definitely not rebel material,” Brion murmured.

“Perhaps one day, but not today. He hasn’t seen nearly enough hardship.”

“He actually smelled like jasmine and citrus. Who smells like jasmine and citrus?”

“Certainly not you,” Jonas said, laughing. “When was the last time you . . .” His words trailed off as he saw a fresco on the side of a building of King Gaius’s handsome face. The words strenGth, Faith, and WisDom—the Limerian credo—were in the mosaic below, along with the larger word toGether.

“He’s doing it,” Jonas grumbled. “That bastard is fooling them into submission with his shiny speeches and pretty promises. They don’t realize that he’d happily destroy them at his whim.”

“Hey, where are you going?” Brion called after him as Jonas marched across the road toward the mural. The artist must have just finished, for the plaster was still wet. Jonas began to tear at it, smearing what could be smeared and crumbling the dry parts away in his hands.

“Jonas, we should go,” Brion cautioned him.

“I won’t let him win. We need to show everyone what a liar he is.” His fingers had quickly begun to bleed from the effort.

“We will. I mean, we are. We’re going to make a difference.” Brion looked nervously over his shoulder at the people that were gathering to see the vandalism of the king’s mural. “Remember those Auranian rebels who lost their heads last week?”