Fireblood

Fireblood - 1

by

Trisha Wolfe

For my family, and for my readers, because without you, none of this would be possible.

Every word I write is for you.

ONE

Basket hooked on one arm, I browse the fruit display of a vendor’s stand in Town Square, trying to ignore the white towers of Castle Karm just past the rolling hills of the gated royal village. It’s become a constant presence in my weekly errands. An affecting reminder, a monstrosity to be feared and obeyed, even more so than the knights of the Force patrolling the cobbled roadways.

The day is overcast, and the faint blue lines of the sky are distinct, contrasting against the dark clouds. The grid veils the market in a blue-gray hue. The rows of apples are a sea of bright blue stars, their glassy skins reflecting the dome’s gleam.

A chill prickles my skin, and the hairs on the back of my neck lift up.

I’m being watched.

“Pick one and let’s move on, Zara,” Hadley says, talking over the creaking wheels of carriages and shouts from bidding customers. She wipes the moisture of the humid day from her forehead, her dark skin strikingly beautiful against her olive tunic. “We don’t have time for your daydreaming today. You may care nothing for the king’s transmission, but I’d like to be home in time for this one.”

Nodding to the fruit vendor, I smile and move past the stand. When we’re a distance away from the crowded shops lining the main street, I glance over my shoulder. Two members of the Force linger near the vendor. Fear needles my chest.

“I don’t have a monitor to watch the transmission,” I remind Hadley.

She nods once, and her dark braid bobs along her shoulder. She points to the screen hanging above the podium in the middle of Town Square. “We can stay longer and watch it here.” A knowing smile tugs up her lips.

“You know I can’t.” Defeated, I move closer to her ear, while peeking at the knights in crimson and black. “And you shouldn’t care for the transmission either, Hadley.”

“Aha,” she says. “I knew it had nothing to do with your father’s reluctance to watch them. You simply don’t want to get your expectations up.”

Pressing my lips together, I take in her hopeful expression, and say cautiously, “I don’t think you’ve truly considered what it would mean to become a member of the royal family.”

Her brown eyes widen, and her thin mouth parts. “Careful with your words.” She glances around before the excitement returns to her voice. “Honestly, Zara. You cannot tell me you don’t wish for Prince Sebastian to choose you.” Her eyebrows arch. “Every maiden in Karm is vying to become his betrothed. Your humble act doesn’t fool me.”

The feeling of being watched bears down on me, and I pick up my pace, edging Hadley away from the market. “I’ve never once thought about it.” Truly, I haven’t. Not the way she means, as in becoming a princess. My father warns me all too often of the wrongness and dangers of Karm under the king’s rule, and that fear has been as present in my life as the castle looming over me now.

I would never mention my father’s beliefs to Hadley, though. I wouldn’t risk involving her or her family in his theories, which have gotten worse with his illness. But having grown up with his rants, the last thing I’d desire for myself would be to marry the king’s son and live locked behind the walls of the castle. I look up again at the blue pointed rooftops piercing the sky and shiver.

“I don’t believe you,” Hadley says. She shakes her head and loops her arm through mine before I can respond, steering us under the low eaves of the apothecary shop. “Don’t worry. I haven’t forgotten why we made this heinous trip.” She smiles.

“Thank you,” I say. “And it’s not that heinous. We make the walk every week just so you can lustfully gaze upon the prince’s posters.”

Her eyes take on a faraway look as we pass by a painted parchment of a smiling Prince Sebastian. Scrawled beneath is the message: Seeking his princess. I don’t remark on the impossibility that one of us could ever be chosen. The court has been aflutter with balls and dances—events we’re not permitted to attend—with the ladies of age competing for the prince’s affections. Although it’s my least concern, I don’t want to ruin Hadley’s enjoyment.

After she’s taken in the charming portrait of the prince, Hadley sighs and motions to the door of the apothecary. “Let’s get your father’s prescriptions, and then you’ll be in better spirits to humor my daydreams.”

I look behind us one last time and release a pent-up breath. The two knights are no longer lurking. “Let’s hurry,” I tell her, then force a wide smile. “And afterward, I’ll watch the announcement with you.”

She laughs, a high, squealing sound that tickles my ears. “I knew you secretly wished it. Oh, the prince is much more handsome in person. Just wait, you’ll see.” She bounces as she opens the door. “Your first transmission. Your first glimpse of the royalty we only dream of—”

“Hadley, please—” I cut her outburst short. “You can’t tell my father. He wouldn’t approve.”

She waves away my worry as she ushers me inside the shop. “He’ll never know.”

While the apothecary retrieves my father’s prescriptions, I peruse the shelves, aimlessly reading labels while my mind revisits the transmission I witnessed in person when I was ten.

The snap of a man’s neck breaking as he was hung echoes through my memories and I squeeze my eyes shut.

Today’s transmission will be different, I tell myself, forcing my breathing to calm. The prince’s announcement of his chosen princess will be extremely different from the transmitted punishments. All of Karm will celebrate.

I blink my eyes open and find Hadley watching me, her brows pinched in thought. I never told her about what I saw that day for fear just talking about it would make it real, and my young mind wanted it to be a nightmare. So, I’m not lying when I say I’ve never seen a transmission. I haven’t. Not on a monitor.

After I pay for the medicines, I wrap the glass vials in a brown rag and bury them under the fruit in my basket. Luckily the apothecary, Mr. Levine, is a close friend of my father’s, and even if he suspects my father of having the Virus, I know he’d never report him.

I thank Mr. Levine, then turn to meet Hadley at the door.

“Miss Zara,” he calls out.

Pausing in the doorway, I glance at Hadley and say under my breath, “I probably counted my payment wrong.” I step back to the counter. “Yes?”

Mr. Levine’s weathered eyes sweep my face, and he frowns. “Please tell your father I asked after him. I do miss his company during this fishing season.” He widens his eyes. “Mayhap I could send a messenger to invite him along on one of my hunts soon. Say, next week?”

It only takes a moment for me to understand his cautiously selected words. “I believe he would like that very much,” I say. “Thank you, Mr. Levine.”

“Of course.” He smiles. “Best hurry home before it comes.”

I squint. “I’m sorry?”

“The rain. It’s about to come down hard.” His kind, crinkly eyes meet mine, and I wonder if I’m meant to catch another meaning there, or whether I’m simply being paranoid. Here, so near the castle with the Force walking the streets, I’m always paranoid. I return his smile and nod.

Hadley and I make sure my father’s friend sees us head in the direction out of Town Square. Then we make a sharp right, back through a narrow alleyway toward the crowd gathering beneath the screen.

“Your father has creepy friends.” Hadley smoothes down the fly-aways from her braid.

“Mayhap,” I say. But I’m thankful for them. Mr. Levine has secured a way for my father to get his medicines without me having to come into town. It will be less suspicious. Though it may put the apothecary at risk, I trust his prudence; he’ll choose a discreet messenger.

Hadley and I find a clear spot on the center fountain and take a seat on its cemented edge. The water rains down in a wide spray, sending drops onto my arms and gray tunic. I look at the darkening sky, trying to determine if the rain Mr. Levine spoke of has already come or if the fountain alone splashes me.

I watch the crowd grow around us as Hadley talks on about the prince, what life in the castle must be like, and her theories of what King Hart was like before he locked himself away in some secret lair. I bob my head along, my nerves strung tight. I shouldn’t be here.

A loud crackling rends the air.

I freeze.

“It’s only the transmission starting,” Hadley assures me. “I have to admit, I’m almost jealous of your ignorance.” She lifts her head toward the screen, shifting her eyes away from me, but not before I see the sadness in them.

I open my mouth to question her, but the screen flickers. When we were younger, after my first stolen glimpse of the public punishments, I made her swear to keep the transmissions to herself. I trusted my father’s reasons for forbidding me to watch them after that. Of course, once we were older, I could have done away with childish fears. Now, as an image appears on the screen, I know why I never abandoned our rule.

Terror grips my insides. I want to turn away, to go back to my father and take care of him, and to forget my curiosity and desire to share in Hadley’s fun. I risk so much every day hiding my father’s illness.

I want to remain ignorant.

Only the face on the screen holds me captive. It’s not the elusive King Hart, but his son.

Prince Sebastian.

His golden eyes seem to glow with the lambent of the monitor, ethereal and assured. His full lips, curved into a graceful smile, hold an air of danger—a secret only he knows.

“Isn’t he beautiful?” Hadley says longingly.

Yes, I think, but not in the way she’s obviously seeing him. He’s beautiful in the way the apple in the banned book my father read to me ages ago was beautiful to the princess. Tempting but deadly.

“Citizens of Karm,” Prince Sebastian addresses his audience. His voice is a deep baritone that booms through the square. “Thank you for joining me. I know you were looking forward to an appearance from your king, but as I’m soon to take a wife, I’m making every effort to assume more responsibilities in the kingdom, also.”

As his voice echoes off the buildings, tendrils of fear wrap around me. My memories of the thief being hanged resurface, his haunting cries replacing the prince’s speech. My brow beads with cold sweat.

My throat thickens and I swallow. I should leave. The Force is here, and I have medicines on my person that would incriminate my father. I don’t spy the knights in crimson anywhere, and that worries me more than if one of them were standing by my side.

Glancing at Hadley, whose eyes are transfixed on the prince, I begin to inch away. She doesn’t notice, and I hunker over to slip from her sight. Staying low to the ground, I maneuver through the crowd.

The prince’s voice follows me out of the square. “Let us not waste another moment. As I’ve been relentlessly searching the realm for my princess, I cannot wait.” I can almost feel the anticipation thrumming back in Town Square. Just as I pass through the gate, he says, “On the morrow, one of your own will become my betrothed, my princess, and the future queen of Karm.” He pauses. “Zara Dane. I’m honored to—”

My blood stills.

A whoosh floods my ears, snuffing the rest of his words out.

The ground beneath my slippered feet seems to shift. The well-worn tracks of the roadway come at me as I stumble forward.

My head jerks around, and I try to peer past the gate into the square, where shouting and applause and mayhem crack the silence like thunder. My pulse bangs against my veins.

My father.

TWO

The ground thunders. Hooves pound the earth. I pump my legs harder. Staying hidden in the treeline, I race through the forest to reach my home first.

I make it to the back entrance and throw open the door. My pulse jumps in my throat, and I spring past the living room to unlatch the front shutters, even though I already know what I’ll see.

The Force.

Their silver armor glints in the low afternoon light, and I imagine their cruel eyes peeking out of the visors of their helmets. Crimson banners flutter around their horses, the color spiking my blood with adrenaline. I back away from the window and race to my father’s bedroom.

“Father!”

I skid to a stop before his bed. “The Force is coming. We have to move you.”

“Nay,” he responds with a wheeze. “There’s nothing to be done for me, Zara.” His eyes, glazed and distant, beg for my obedience. He’s been preparing for this moment, readying himself for it.

But I am not ready.

“Damn,” he curses, his pretense slipping as he struggles to push himself into a sitting position. He waves his hand. “Fetch what you can and leave out the back. You can return for the rest.”

I shake my head. “I won’t let them take you.” I glance around. How will I move him if he continues to refuse to leave? I drag his limp arm around my shoulder and attempt to lift him. For all the weight he’s lost, he’s still too heavy for me to carry on my own.

“Zara…” He trails off. I hear the defeat in his tone. “A girl of sixteen can’t take care of a sick old man while on the run.” He coughs, and his graying hair gleams silver as it catches the candlelight. “I won’t have you thrown into an orphanage or married off to some cruel lord. Do as I say.”

“No,” I retort. “There is time yet.”

His eyes search my face. “There’s a loose floorboard under the bed.” He speaks so softly I can barely register his words. “Leave my ring so the Force won’t suspect anything to be missing, but take the other object. It will protect you.”

I stare into his adamant gaze and wonder if he somehow saw the prince’s announcement. If he knows that the Force are here for me.

“Father, grab it now and we’ll leave together.” No matter if they’re here for me, they’ll surely know he’s contracted the Virus when they see him. I thought we had more time, but the prince has taken that away from us. I should have been better prepared. I should have—

Thwump, thwump.

“By order of King Hart,” a knight says, his voice muffled through the oaken door, “you’re instructed to surrender your ill.”

They already know.

I look into my father’s emerald eyes—the same green as my own—and wait. I will not open that door.

I should have been more careful in the market. I knew they were watching. How long have they known? Weeks? I’ve been retrieving my father’s prescriptions for over two months, and today was not the first time I felt their eyes on me.

However long they’ve suspected, I can’t take back my blunder now. Straightening my back, I tell my father, “I can take care of you and myself. I’m seventeen on the morrow.”

“Zara.” In just that whisper of my name, my heart breaks. I latch on to him and circle my arms around his neck, drawing him close.

The front door bangs open, and footsteps echo through our tiny farmhouse.

“I love you, Father,” I murmur into his ear. Before I can say anything more, hands clamp around my arms and I’m wrenched away. “No.”

A knight spins me to face him. He lifts his visor and his cold gray eyes scan me. “Zara Dane,” he says, his voice gruff. “Your residency change papers.” He hands me a rolled parchment.

I hold the paper with trembling hands as the other two members of the Force grab my father. I step forward, not wanting them to manhandle him in his fragile state, but the knight extends a rigid arm between us.

“Your papers, m’lady.” He nods toward the crumpled document gripped between my fingers.

My father’s gaze snaps to me. “Why are you addressing her so?”

The gray-eyed knight ignores his question as I unroll the document. I already know what the paper states, but for the sake of my father, I play the part. “This…” I say, and stop. Take a breath. “I work beside my father here at the farm, cloning animals. My station—” I look at the knight in alarm, then to my father “—my station cannot be a castle maid.” I pray the knight doesn’t correct me, that my father won’t have to hear of my imminent engagement. Let him be spared that knowledge.

The gray-eyed knight spears me with a look. “You’re not to be a servant, m’lady. Did you not see the transmission?” Suddenly, I want the knights to remove my father from the room. Take him outside now. “The prince has announced his betrothal ceremony will take place on the morrow.” He squares his shoulders, stands straighter. “You’ve been selected above all for the honor of becoming Prince Sebastian’s betrothed.”

I drop the paper.

My eyes meet my father’s, and my heart constricts.

Before I can protest, my father yanks free of his captors, surprising me with his speed and strength. “No!” he shouts. “Zara, no.” The knights jerk him backward. “You cannot go. Please, Zara. Do what you must to escape—” He’s cut off by a quick blow to his head.

Spurred into motion, I push past the gray-eyed knight and run to my father’s side. “Unhand him!” I wrestle with the tallest knight’s hands. The other knight rears his fist back, ready to land a blow on me.

“Stop!” the gray-eyed knight orders him. “The princess must not be harmed.”

My eyes widen. Princess. Only my mind can’t process this now. My father’s troubled eyes search my face, then the knights drag him out.

I pursue them as they pull him through the shattered doorway of our farmhouse. “Please,” I whimper. “He’s no longer fighting.”

They ignore my pleas. My father struggles against them, and the tall knight thrusts his fist into my father’s jaw, dropping him to the ground.

The gray-eyed knight lays one hand on my shoulder and wraps the fingers of his other around my arm. “Your father is ill. The Virus has driven him mad.”

“Nay.” I shake my head. “This is your doing.” I bite down on my lip, preventing my mouth from opening again. No matter my newly elevated station, that will not stop their fists from flying if I insult the King’s Round Table Knights.

“You filthy…” the knight towering over my father says. “He bit me!” He reaches for his V-Baton next to the sword on his belt and my heart stutters to a stop.

I jerk against the knight holding me. “Don’t—” But it’s useless. The tall knight clubs my father over the head, and his face smacks the ground. Dry dirt clouds around him as blood trickles from his forehead, bathing the earth.

The other knight, his visor still masking his face, takes out his own V-Baton and it hums, its tip sparking to life with a white-blue current. He shoves the end of the metal wand into my father’s shoulder. My father writhes, his body convulsing.

Then he lies still.

Move, I pray.

“Put him in the prison carriage,” the knight behind me orders.

They grab my father’s arms and drag him to a carriage drawn by two black horses. I sway, my legs numb and threatening to buckle.

The knight rights me. “M’lady,” he says, his tone dark, serious. “Pack your belongings. Castle Karm awaits.”

THREE

Castle Karm stretches across the horizon. Never-ending. The carriage creaks to a stop and I look up. Gleaming silver gates rise before me, their electrical charge humming. Stone guard towers, positioned on either side, make up the gatehouse, with a guard stationed in each tower. A loud snap bites my eardrums, and I flinch. The horses snort. The electrical current running through the gates has been shut down, and now they squeak open.

As we pass through, I can just make out the blue-coned peaks of the castle. It’s the same view I’ve gazed upon for so long, only closer, and somehow more menacing. Torches and hanging lanterns guide our path, and my skin tightens with dread.

My carriage rumbles into the inner courtyard while my father’s veers off. I peer out the open window, trying to watch it for as long as I can. A gust of wind blasts me backward. It stings my swollen, irritated eyes, and I push the heels of my hands into their sockets, clearing away fresh tears.

The gray-eyed knight opens the carriage door and offers me his hand. “Prince Sebastian requires you to be settled in your quarters before you’re to make his acquaintance.” His tone is callous.

Ignoring his outstretched hand, I step down from the carriage on my own. I refuse to touch the hands of the knights who beat my father. This was not the first time. They’ve paid many visits to our farm over the years, making sure to keep my father and his animal production “in line.”

Gathering up the hem of my tunic-dress, I move away from the carriage. I’d grudgingly done as told and changed into the nicest dress I own. I’d also sneaked away while I changed to do as my father had requested and pry the floorboard up. Inside was a wooden box that contained just what he said it would: his wedding band and a second object—an outlawed dagger. After inspecting my father’s ring, missing him and my mother both, I’d reluctantly placed it back into the box. Then I’d strapped the dagger’s sheath to my leg, praying the Force wouldn’t search me.

The dagger rests against my outer thigh now, and through my tunic I rub the pad of my finger over the R and D along the hilt. At least a part of him is still here. They may have taken him away, but his initials remind me that he’ll always be with me.

Guiding me.

Compared to my pristine surroundings, my finest layers of cream linen might as well be a smock.

Sprinkling the lush grounds is every color of flower and foliage. Pink and lavender indigo spring up between mounds of snapdragon, and ivies crawl sparsely scattered pines. The scents of rosemary and thyme nearly overpower me as the hem of my dress stirs their sprigs. In the center of the grounds, clear water cascades over an intricately carved stone fountain, and iridescent hues arc above it, twinkling in the afternoon light.

Stepping onto the stone court, I spin once, taking in row upon row of arches on freestanding columns. The immense box-like structure of the arcade surrounding me is only small compared to the colossal castle it protrudes from. I crane my neck as my eyes roam up the front of Castle Karm. Its near-white stone is spotless, nothing like the dusty, dank farmhouses of the country. Guards pace the wall walk of the second landing, and above them, midnight blue and silver tapestries drape the outer walls, matching the conical rooftops reaching into the sky.

The gray-eyed knight escorts me through massive mahogany doors, and I’m dwarfed by elegance I’d never imagined. The stone floors echo our steps. A crystal chandelier lights the inner ward with an amber glow, giving the illusion of warmth despite the chill in the air. Velvet tapestries—blue, silver, and crimson—hang ceiling to floor.

As we ascend a spiral staircase, my head spins from the height. I want to latch on to the stone railing to steady myself, but I’m afraid to touch anything. I’m so out of place within this element that I feel detached, as if in a dream. Four flights bring us to the top level, and my body is taxed. My emotions are drained.

After passing five rooms, we stop at the sixth, and the door swings open.

A middle-aged woman, her auburn hair pulled into a braided bun, ushers me inside the room. “My dear,” she says, her voice both soft and excited, “what a journey you’ve had. Sit, sit.” She beckons me to a burgundy velvet settee near a brass fire pit.

I say nothing and sit as instructed, welcoming the heat from the flames while taking in the tall stone walls that reach toward an arched ceiling. Giant wooden beams cross the open space above, and a chandelier hangs from the center one, casting the chamber in soft light.

“Maid Madity,” the knight says. I look up at him, having forgotten he was here. “The prince wishes the princess to retire for the evening, then to break her fast with him in the atrium come morning.”

She bobs her head, her eyes creasing as if irritated by his presence. I like her immediately. “Yes, of course,” she says. “Go now, Sir Larkin. I have a travel-weary charge to tend to.” She shoos the knight from the doorway.

I stare vacantly at the dormer window across from me while Maid Madity flitters about the room, hanging clothes—though not the clothes I brought—in a mahogany armoire. As she folds linens on the tall bed, I notice her gray servant’s tunic hangs a little lower on her left side, and there’s a slight limp in her walk.

She hums as she folds. It’s as if the realm has continued on. Like the transmission never occurred. Only my world has forever changed.

My head aches as I try to piece together all that has happened. I think of Hadley watching the transmission as Prince Sebastian announced my name. What went through her mind? Did she race to my home afterward, only to find me and my father already gone? Will I ever be able to see her again?

Mr. Levine’s actions are clear now. Somehow, he was aware of what was about to transpire. I don’t know how, but he had to have been. He was making sure my father would be taken care of after I was removed from his care. It would have assuaged some of my fears, but Mr. Levine’s kind and perilous effort is moot now.

Maid Madity stuffs the now-folded linens under the bed, and the fire pops. I startle, but quickly check myself, and scoff at the intricate illusion that is our world.

Karm is surrounded by a force field. It protects us, hiding us from Outside. The wasteland. Only here does grass and vegetation grow. Only here do we have the means to genetically fashion animals, giving life. Like my father’s farm where I helped him clone animals to sell at the market. After the nuclear fallout of the Final War, and the Virus that came shortly after, nothing remains of the old world except destruction, death, and plague.

And the storybook world of nightmares.

Growing up, I heard tales of beasts mutated by the fallout, so large and distorted that they devour everything in their paths. I was told of people no longer able to use their eyes, blinded by the loss of ozone, with adapted senses that sniff out their prey. Humans.

I shiver and sink closer to the fire. They’re only stories meant to keep us complacent, I remind myself. It’s why we accept King Hart’s rule, his realm. No one dares to question for fear of being tossed into the Outside.

My father never confirmed or denied the myths of Outside, but he did teach me of the world that once lived where the wasteland now thrives. He read me banned books at night when I was a child, sneaked them to me as I grew older, and taught me about the laws that used to govern the different sectors of the world. And how very different Karm is from that world.

Now, I’ll never lay eyes on my father again.

The signs of the Virus first appeared in him nine weeks ago. He was having difficulties remembering cloning procedures he’d done a thousand times before. I tried my best to take over, to cover for him, making sure to meet our quota of cows, pigs, and our recent addition of chickens. When he became bedridden last week, though, we fell behind, and truly, it was then only a matter of time before the Force came.

Even if the prince had never announced my name, I couldn’t have hidden my father away much longer. The Virus that took millions during the Final War lurks in every citizen’s blood. It’s not a matter of if, but when the Virus will take us. Although it seems to skip children, preferring instead to take us in our prime.

My father evaded it longer than most, although he has little time left now.

Soon, he’ll die in the Oubliette. Alone. Forgotten. We’re never to speak of the Taken. They’re a stain, an imperfection in our otherwise perfect realm.

I shed plump, hot tears. They burn as they trail down my cheeks.

Maid Madity adjusts the apron along her curvy hips and attentively approaches me. “Princess Zara?” My eyes snap to her plain yet charming face. “Do you wish me to wash your feet? You must be worn from your trip.”

I shake my head and wipe my face hastily. “Nay, thank you.”

“How about I brush out your hair?” she tries again, a warm smile curling her lips. “You have such beautiful blonde tresses. A good brushing will bring back their luster.”

My brow furrows. “My father has just been abducted by the most ruthless knights in all of Karm,” I snap. “I hardly think a bath and hair brushing will soothe me.” I cringe and pinch my eyes closed, immediately regretting my harsh words. It’s not her doing as to why I’m here, why my father is now—as I sit in this lavish chamber—being sent to the Oubliette. However, my mind cannot summon the spirit to placate her.

She bows her head. “Understood, m’lady.” She leaves the room, and the door bangs closed behind her.

Willing my body to move, I slog across the floor toward the balcony and push the glass doors open. The evening air is crisp and scented with smoke from the torches. I breathe it in.

The setting sun stains the sky an unearthly violet. I can just make out the faint blue grid beneath the clouds. The electric lines streak the sky, and I wonder what a sunset without the force field that domes Karm would look like.

Glancing around, I locate an Eye in the corner of the balcony, its tiny lens encased in glass.

As my father would say, damn.

I edge toward the railing, keeping my right side out of view of whoever is spying on the other side of the camera. The blade of the dagger presses against my thigh, and I clasp the hilt beneath my tunic, wishing I could bring it out and examine it further.

My father’s initials are engraved on the black hilt, just above a crest of an eagle’s outspread wings and a sword. I know there’s a story behind how he came to own the weapon, but I suppose he was waiting for his last day to do so. Now, he never will.

My father may yet live another few days in the Oubliette, but once you’re there, your presence is so completely wiped from Karm you may as well have never existed. I won’t even be given the chance to say goodbye to him at a funeral. He and all of his belongings will be incinerated.

My last moments with my mother were nearly the same before she was taken. She had gone mad, rambling meaningless obscenities my five-year-old mind couldn’t process at the time, and then the Force hauled her away. A fiery ache lodges in my throat.

Will my parents be together soon?

I pray so, but I don’t believe in Heaven. God wouldn’t inflict such a disease on His world—wouldn’t turn His creation into a barren wasteland. Maybe they’ll be together in the wind. Or the clouds. Somewhere soft and bright, watching over me.

There’s not a Heaven, but there is a Hell.

Karm.

Its citizens glide along every day, whether in oblivion or fear, I’m not sure. They’re as lost as the era they follow. All the while, they pretend this is paradise, forgetting the Virus that devastated the world still works in our veins. They can abide by King Hart’s rules, but I won’t allow my parents’ memory to fade while I live in this sham of a utopia.

I will remember them and talk about them. Even if it angers my soon-to-be betrothed prince. My chest constricts with resentment. His smug and conceited air during the live transmission, his act of betrothing me without so much as an introduction first—never mind his neglect of properly asking my father for my hand—only confirms my father’s theory of the royals and this kingdom. They take what they want.

Even if the prince forces me to marry him, I’ll never forgive him for taking away the little time I had left with my father. He’s not my king yet, and he’ll never rule me.

I run my hands over my tunic, shaking out the hem to better conceal the leather sheath. All weapons are banned in Karm, except for the V-Batons and arming swords the Force and army of knights carry. They’re issued so the knights can enforce Karm’s order—the laws—although it’s rare for anyone to disobey.

I recall the public hanging again. I’d slipped away from my father to explore when that thief was caught stealing bread in the market. The Force strung him up in the center of the square and transmitted it live for all citizens to witness. No judge. No jury. The Force is both. King Hart allots his authority to his superior knights—his Round Table—to punish and keep order as if they’re an extension of him.

The more years that pass, the more King Hart’s order is enforced and followed. Too many fear the Force to go against the laws now. Even I stayed in line after the first time I watched the Force nearly beat my father to death. I kept my head down and followed along. Just like the rest.

Until this moment.

I watched my mother and now my father dragged off by the Force. Saw it happen to strangers and friends alike. I shouldn’t have listened to my father. I should have hidden him away as I’d planned. If I’m going to die of the Virus, I want it to be on my own terms. Not locked away in an underground dungeon, isolated and possibly beaten for something I have no control over.

Panic hitches my breathing. I’m here, in the castle, right under their watchful eyes. What if I develop symptoms? The prince would cart me off to the Oubliette at once.

My father’s frenzied attack on the Force haunts my mind. I’m to get as far away from Castle Karm as possible. These were his last words to me. This was his wish.

I clutch the hilt of the dagger and stare down at the stone wall surrounding Court. Renewed anger and determination rise within me.

I’m going to escape.

FOUR

Knock, knock.

“Princess Zara,” Maid Madity calls through the door.

Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I lift myself off the unturned coverlet. Damn. The maid rises early.

I look out the balcony doors, to the blue lines bleeding across the morning sky, like veins running through Karm’s body. Then I trudge toward the large mahogany door. She raps once more, and I fling the door open and stare into her honey-brown eyes. She’s only an inch or two shorter than me, but considering my petite stature, she can’t possibly be taller than five feet.

She’s not my ideal choice for an ally; I don’t know if she’ll report me. But she may be my only option.

“Maid Madity,” I say softly. “You must get me out of here.”

She laughs. My eyebrows shoot up. Is she mocking me? She shakes her head, her auburn curls bouncing loose from her braid. “You’re a dramatic one, m’lady,” she says. “But I suspect the prince will enjoy the challenge.” She sweeps past me with a white gown draped over her arms. “You have all day to settle in and prepare yourself for the betrothal. I’m sure by then you’ll see how foolish you’re being. You’ve been given a great privilege. I can name countless ladies who’d love to fulfill this duty.” She tsks. “There will be some jealous maidens at the ceremony this evening, no doubt.”

My shoulders slump as she lays the gown across my bed. I close the door. She thinks I’m joking. Or rather, she’s unwilling to believe anyone would not want to marry the prince. I see kindness in her eyes, however. She may be the only one stationed in the castle who will help me. “Please, Maid Madity,” I say, inflecting as much feeling into my voice as possible. “I cannot—will not—marry the prince. I beg of you, help me to—”

Her hand covers my mouth, her eyes wide. “Nay, princess. You must call me only Madity.” She nods. “Please, I insist.” There must be listening devices, I realize, and she’s stopped me from blundering into treason.

I step back, and my eyes search her serious face. She won’t help me escape; that is clear, and I have no right to ask it of her. She’d risk her very life by helping me. No. I couldn’t live with that. I need to find a way out that doesn’t compromise her.

She lifts the white gown. “The prince loves white.” Her fingers caress the satin. “He had your betrothal gown made just for you.”

Realization dawns. How long ago must someone have begun this gown to have it ready on the day after my arrival? How long have they been planning a ceremony involving me without my knowledge? How long has the Force been watching me?

Because of this betrothal, my father is in the Oubliette now.

Anger boils under my skin. “Then he can wear it,” I snap, in spite of our tapped chamber.

She frowns and drops the dress back on the coverlet. “So many other maidens, princess,” she reminds me, and steps into the bathing room.

Despite her cheeriness toward my predicament, I admit she’s probably correct in thinking my plight futile—that I should wrap myself in the elegant garment and shuffle off to marry the most sought-after man in Karm. She’s right, of course; it’s utterly futile.

Even if I somehow made it out of the castle undetected, and past the towering walls, where would I go? Not only would the farmhouse be the first place the Force would look, but I’m positive new residents have already moved in to take over the cloning procedure.

I have no home.

I stare at the white gown. Its shimmery skirt hangs over the edge of the bed. Today is my birthday, and I’m now of marrying age by Karm’s standards. Just over four weeks ago, Prince Sebastian announced his intention to find a maiden to wed. As he’s only nineteen, all assumed this was a move toward him taking the throne. A wife would mature him in the eyes of Karm.

The news had spread through the realm like wildfire. Or, how I imagine a wildfire would spread and consume if it were allowed. Every girl of age had gone into a frenzy. Hadley had talked about it nearly every day.

Not me. I watched my father wither.

The force field may imprison Karm, but Prince Sebastian has imprisoned me. I’m trapped in a prison within a prison.

After I’m dressed in a soft cream gown—much nicer than anything I’ve ever worn before—and Madity has brushed out my hair, she claps her hands together and toddles over to the com interface along the chamber wall.

“The princess is ready,” she says into the com, then turns toward me. “Sir Devlan will be here soon to escort you to breakfast with the prince.”

I nod absently, my brain steadily concocting schemes and escape scenarios.

During my shower, I noticed the glass-encased stall had a com, too. I was relieved to find there was no camera above it, like the Eye on my balcony. Afterward, I studied every inch of my chamber, looking for Eyes—the camera devices used by the Force to ensure our safety, or to spy on us, making sure we’re obedient citizens. There were none that I could find.

However, my chamber is bugged. Madity proved that when she wouldn’t allow me to speak anything against the prince. I’ll have to watch myself around him and make certain I don’t give away my intentions. That will be difficult, as merely looking upon his face will surely elicit the hatred I feel toward him and the Force.

Prince Sebastian may not have been the one to raise his hand to my father, but he commands the hands of those who did. He is every bit as vile to me as King Hart and the Force combined. He’s the reason I’m not with my father now—the reason my father is suffering and dying alone in the Oubliette.

“Princess?” Madity approaches me. “Are you ill?”

Alarmed, I right myself on the settee and clear my throat. “Nay, I’m not. But—I’m sorry. Should you be addressing me as princess? I’m not technically…yet.”

“The prince has instructed as much, my lady.” She bows her head.

Of course. “I’m curious about the prince.” I smile, sit forward. “Tell me, what is his manner?”

Madity wrings her hands. “Oh, I’ve known Prince Sebastian since he was a little boy.” She beams. “I admit, one might think him conceited”—she eyes me—“but he has a good heart. I think he will be a fine ruler and husband…in time.” She says this last part so low that the listening devices may not have picked it up.

I think on her words. Using the prince’s self-importance against him could work in my favor. Those who view themselves as so desirable never question whether others don’t, and he’s never met me. He has no reason to question whether today is not the happiest day of my life. To him, I’m simply another maiden of Karm who pines after him. Which does raise the question: Why me? Why, out of all the more suited noble ladies and courtiers, would he choose a country girl?

I shake the thought from my head. It’s unimportant. Finding a way to escape the Force and those who would lock me up at the slightest show of illness is my only concern. Another plan has been formulating, too. The Oubliette is somewhere on the court grounds. What if I could free my father?

Someone knocks on the door and Madity shuffles over and opens it. “Sir Devlan.” She curtsies slightly, her bad leg hindering her. “The princess is ready to break her fast and meet with her soon-to-be betrothed.”

There is no response from the other side of the doorway. I push a heavy breath through my lips and rise from my seat. Running my hands along the gown Madity selected, I brush out the creases, then brace myself to face the prince.

As I step toward the door, I’m surprised by the knight in the corridor. He’s not dressed in armor or sporting the crimson and silver insignia of the Force. He stands at perfect attention to his full height of perhaps six-two. His black and midnight-blue uniform brings out the color of his pale blue eyes, and his dark, nearly black hair hangs in loose wisps, feathering his eyes and ears. His eyes penetrate mine, and my breath shudders as they flick down my body, assessing me.

Madity steps to the side. “Princess Zara, may I present Sir Devlan Capra, Prince Sebastian’s first knight.”

“Princess.” Sir Devlan bows at the waist.

I don’t know the proper way in which to acknowledge his address, so I simply nod. “Sir Devlan.”

He sweeps his hand through the air and holds his arm outstretched. I assume that’s my cue to walk ahead of him. I turn to Madity. “Thank you for everything.”

She waves me off. “’Tis my pleasure and honor, m’lady.”

I step into the corridor and head toward the spiral staircase. Once we reach the lower level, I take in every inch of the castle, endeavoring to learn my surroundings and my way around here.

Deep blue and silver tapestries drape the walls. Large pillars reach toward the steepled ceiling, and dark veins in the stone walls separate the swirls of gold, silver, and amber. Castle Karm is something constructed right out of one of the antique books my father used to sneak to me. Books I hungrily devoured about a time before the Final War. Before King Hart built a land around his ideal perfect society.

Camelot.

He’s constructed his entire realm after King Arthur’s beloved city, trusting its citizens to recreate the peaceful and picture-perfect utopia. Hadley and I spent many hours debating and inventing possible reasons why King Hart chose Camelot as his guide. It continues to remain a mystery to us as well as the rest of the citizenry. Though I admit, it’s a fine idea, trying to reinvent a time once believed to be unspoiled. But Camelot was a dream, a fiction.

Karm is real, and not perfect.

The air is chill, and the corridor’s disturbingly quiet. The only sound comes from Devlan’s boots hitting hard stone and echoing through the corridor as he marches behind me. I glance over my shoulder. His right hand rests on the pommel of his sword—he must be left-handed—and his gaze is steady on me. Irritated, I face forward. I don’t like the feel of him walking behind me, scouting for some attack as if he’s my guard. Or my servant.

“Sir Devlan, you could walk ahead of me,” I say. “I think you could better protect me from the front.”

He’s quiet for a long moment, then says, “There is no attack to fear, princess.” I wait for him to say something more, but he doesn’t.

“Then why not walk in front or beside me if there’s no reason for it?”

He takes another moment to answer. It’s infuriating. “There’s a reason.”

“And…it is?”

“I would like to keep my eyes on you.” The thought of this knight watching my backside makes my insides squirm. I hug my arms around my stomach as he continues. “It’s my duty to place knights around you to protect you. Even from yourself.”

I slow my steps. “What does that mean?”

“The sudden disappearance of the princess wouldn’t bode well.” His footsteps quicken, bringing him closer. “I don’t want to explain to King Hart or Prince Sebastian how I lost the princess if she manages to get herself lost.”

My blood freezes in my veins. Did he hear what I said to Madity? Is he the person eavesdropping on the other side of the listening devices? Or did Madity expose me? No. I don’t believe that kind-hearted woman would do that. But the fact the prince’s first knight may be aware of my intentions is unsettling.

I’m quiet as he guides me around a corner toward an indoor garden. I reach for the atrium door handle, but Devlan’s hand grasps it first. He leans his weight against the door, keeping it closed. He’s nearly pressed into me, a mere inch between us, and the heat of his body sends a current zipping along my skin.

He smells of forest and mint, and something sweet I can’t identify. “It would be unwise, princess,” he whispers, his warm breath brushing my ear. “If you were to suddenly disappear, my knights and I would not be the only ones punished.”

I loose the breath I’d been holding. He presses the handle down and opens the door as his other hand cups my lower back, giving me a slight push into the sunlit room.

Fear prickles my skin, but all questions and thoughts are forced to the back of my mind as I’m greeted with Prince Sebastian rising from his chair. Gold and silver are woven through his cream tunic, and an intricate crest showing a lion—its massive paw gripped around a heart—decorates its center. It glimmers in the morning light, drawing my eye. His elegant garment is drawn together tightly by a studded belt. A sword scabbard hangs at his waist.

“Your Highness.” Devlan lowers himself into a dignified bow. He then turns toward me, dips his head, and moves to the far end of the atrium. He leans against the floor-to-ceiling window, keeping his eyes trained on the prince and me standing awkwardly before each other.

I pry my eyes away from the knight’s scrutiny and drag them slowly across the lush vegetation. Large stone planters of palms, gardenias, and exotic plants I can’t name fill the open, airy room. A makeshift waterfall flows over jutting rocks into a cement pond. Lily pads and water poppies float along its rippling surface. Finally, reluctantly, I bring my gaze to the prince.

He stands straight, his hands clamped behind his back, forcing his shoulders square and himself to his full, lofty height. Notably, only a couple inches shorter than Devlan. His soft, boyish features brighten as he appraises me, and a smile hikes one side of his full lips. “At last, Zara.” He walks two steps closer to me. “We meet.” He unlaces his hands and holds one out to me. A platinum band with a jewel shaped into the Hart crest adorns his right ring finger.

I remind myself of my purpose: convince him I’m but an enamored maiden, and keep him from suspecting my goal. I insert my hand into his upturned palm. It’s soft, warm, and engulfs mine. “My lord.” I give a poorly executed curtsy.

He brings my hand to his lips and places a lingering kiss on its back. His golden eyes look into mine. “Please. I’d like there to be few formalities between us.” He releases my hand to brush an escaped blond lock from his eyes. “I’d love for you to call me by my given name, Sebastian. To hear it daily from your lovely lips would inspire me.”

Dumbfounded, I part my lips, then clamp my mouth closed. Convincing him may not be as easy as I thought. He obviously has a way with the maidens, and is used to charming the skirts off them. What would one of the courtiers do with his flattery? Flirt back? That seems pointless, as we’re to be betrothed by this evening. He’s won, and he didn’t even have an opposing suitor to play against.

Instead of responding, I give him a bemused smile, hoping he’ll be content with having an effect on me. It seems to work as he returns it, then guides me to a white linen-topped table.

My eyes dance around the room, seeking windows, doors, openings—a way out of this castle. Trying to center my thoughts, I put my attention back on the prince. For now, I need to be smart and stay focused on him. There will be time later to wander and explore.

The trickle of the waterfall fills the room as servants pull out our chairs. Sebastian sits, and I smooth the back of my gown and settle onto the seat. He looks to me, and his light-brown eyes—so bright they shine gold—roam the features of my face.

He takes a sip of water from the goblet before him, then wipes his mouth with the tablecloth. “I know you’ve just arrived,” he says, leaning back in his chair, “and would probably like to get to know the grounds, but I was hoping you’d attend my joust practice on the morrow. Though I’m sure practice is a waste of time, I love the action of the sport.” A confident grin crooks his lips, and he continues when I say nothing. “Don’t worry. No one will unhorse me at the upcoming tournament. They didn’t last year, or the year before.”

I take a sip from my own goblet, stalling for time to think on how to respond. “Of course, my lord. I’d be honored to attend.”

He shakes his head, his dirty-blond waves bounce. “Again, do call me Sebastian.”

“I’m sorry.” I want to kick myself; I’m already messing up. “It’s difficult after being so accustomed.”

His lips widen into a knowing smile. “Well, let’s make sure to break free of some of those customs.” He winks.

My skin crawls. I hope he’s not insinuating what I think he is. Even so, I plan to be far away from here before the wedding. Attempting to keep up with his unsettling flattery, I smile again.

There are things I must know, like why I was chosen, but I’m unsure how to broach the topic. I brace myself with a sharp intake of air and say, “Sebastian.” I pause after testing the feel of his name on my tongue. “May I ask a question of you?”

“Anything.”

I straighten my back. “I’m so very honored to be chosen among all the eligible maidens of Karm, but…” I falter.

“But why were you chosen?” he finishes for me.

Relieved, I nod. “Yes, my lor—Sebastian. I’m but a simple girl who works on a cloning farm with her father, I…” I trail off, seeing my blunder in his darkening eyes. I’ve mentioned my father. A Taken.

Sebastian’s eyebrows draw together, and the corners of his eyes crease. “Zara,” he says my name not as warmly this time. “Even raised in the country, I assume you were not denied etiquette classes.”

“Nay,” I snap. “I was not. But it was only yesterday that he was—”

“Enough.” He holds up his hand and looks down at his empty plate. My whole body recoils at his harsh command. He glances around the atrium. “Where is that damned servant? Our plates are getting cold.”

I reach out and touch my plate. It’s warm. Heated porcelain to hold your food so your meal stays hot. The ridiculous luxury is almost as infuriating as him silencing me. I wait for him to at least answer my question, but it seems he’s forgotten it, apparently vexed.

I open my mouth to try to coax him into the conversation again, but a loud crackling disrupts the room. Startled, I flinch.

“’Tis only Sir Devlan’s communicator, Zara,” Sebastian says.

The knight pulls a silver device from his uniform vest and holds it before his mouth. “Devlan.”

There is more static, and then a deep voice sounds over the shiny device. “Kyle Levine has been brought in.” Static. “Does the prince wish to oversee the questioning procedure?”

My chest flutters at the mention of the apothecary. Why has he been brought in? Fear coils in my stomach and I grip my dress, my arms aching from the tension. Devlan looks to Sebastian and I follow his gaze.

Sebastian pushes his chair back and stands. “Yes, I do,” he says. Then to me, “I’m sorry, Zara. I have to depart for now, but I hope to see you again before the betrothal ceremony.” He forces a smile. “Devlan will appoint you a guard and have you escorted there and, in the meantime, show you around Court.”

I stand beside him. “Is everything all right?” I know I’m overstepping my bounds, but I don’t like the sound of this “questioning procedure.”

Sebastian casts an unsure glance at Devlan. “I suppose the princess must become accustomed to castle life soon enough.”

Devlan’s brow creases. “My lord, surely not on her first day.” He checks himself, squaring his shoulders and lowering his head. “Pardon me, Your Highness. I was merely thinking of—”

“Nay. You’re right, of course.” Sebastian runs a finger over his chin. “Show Zara out the back way so she doesn’t hear.”

“Hear what?” I glance between them. “What’s happening?”

Sebastian takes my hand in his. “I presume in the country you don’t hear much about the affairs of state, but there is a network working to overthrow our realm. I believe this Kyle Levine has information, and we must convince him to share it.” He grimaces. “Until later.”

With that, he places a kiss on my hand and hurries out of the atrium.

I turn to Devlan. “Take me there,” I demand. “I know this man. He is no traitor, and I will speak for him.”

His dark eyebrows crawl up his forehead. “Princess, this is not a trial.”

Of course it’s not. There are no trials in Karm. Pulling my shoulders back, I bring all of my five feet, two inches before him. “Regardless, I want to be privy to the happenings in Court.”

He shakes his head. “I promise you, Princess. You do not.” He waves his hand toward a giant glass door at the back of the atrium. “Come. I’ll show you the garden. A lady would enjoy a stroll among the flowers more than the business of men.”

Gritting my teeth, I nod. “Very well.” I take a step forward to follow him. I have no choice, do I? How will I convince the prince and his first knight that I’m compliant, and then free my father and myself, if I speak out? When Devlan stops at the door and reaches inside his uniform to bring out a key ring, I’m reminded of the Force grabbing their V-Batons…clubbing my father over his head…blood pooling on the earth.

They have the apothecary—my father’s friend.

The glass door slides open and Devlan walks outside. Fresh air blasts me, and I fill my lungs, drawing in strength.

I turn and chase after Sebastian.

“Princess!” Devlan shouts.

I hike my gown and run faster to catch up with the prince. I know Mr. Levine is innocent, and whatever the Force has in store for my father’s friend is vile.

When I reach the inner ward, I halt and glance around. My breath comes in pants as I search for the direction the prince went.

A strangled cry sounds from outside the castle.

Dread spikes my blood. The stifled protest transforms into a cry that carries through the entryway. I disregard the curious stares of the servants and head toward the courtyard. I push through the large doors, my limbs quaking and my head light, and stop.

In the middle of the arcade, five members of the Force surround a wooden contraption. Mr. Levine is strapped to the machine’s bench. Above, a beam stretches its length, where blades and hooks dangle inches from his body.

FIVE

A foul sickness rises up from my stomach and coats my throat. The contraption Mr. Levine is secured to rumbles to life as a member of the Force cranks a lever on its side.

Mr. Levine wails as the rafter above him inches forward and a hook stops just above his stomach. A member of the Force grabs the hook. My feet are frozen to the stone. I’m unable to move—my system shocked. The point of the hook pierces his flesh. His sharp cry unhinges me, and I bolt forward.

The sight of blood streaming from Mr. Levine’s side nearly knocks me to the ground, but I force my feet to run toward the knight cranking the lever on the machine. “Stop!”

Another shrill, gurgling cry rips from the apothecary’s throat as the hook rises, bringing with it his entrails.

My head lightens, I’m dizzy, and I slur my next order. “Sh-top!”

Before I reach Mr. Levine, arms circle my waist, and I’m halted. Someone pulls me against their hard chest as I flail my arms. “Zara,” a harsh voice says.

My eyes widen as the knight digs the hook into Mr. Levine’s stomach again. Bile burns my throat and nostrils. I gasp air into my constricted lungs, trying to clear my stinging sinuses. “Make them stop,” I plead, my voice trembling. There’s so much blood.

A hand covers my eyes, and I’m being dragged away. The cool air of the inner ward wraps around me, soothing some of the nausea roiling my stomach.

The fingers digging into my arm loosen their grip, and the hands turn me about. “Have you never seen a live transmission from the king?” Sebastian’s face is flush from the exertion of wrangling me into the castle.

I shake my head, over and over, then stop. The thief. The hanging. But that was damn near humane compared to that torture device. What’s more, I know Mr. Levine. I’ve spent time with him in his shop, and with his daughters. He came to our home. Went fishing with my father. Is Mr. Levine’s torture being transmitted? Is his family watching right now?

Sebastian presses his lips together and his brow furrows. “You cannot interfere with our means of questioning.”

“Questioning?” I snap. Fury ignites, searing my blood. “How is he to tell you anything when his insides are spilling from his body?” I shove against his chest, hard. He doesn’t budge, and I raise my clenched fists to slam them against his stubborn form.

He grabs my wrists and firmly holds me in place. “The Force has already exhausted their simplest means of questioning. He gave nothing up.” He lowers his face toward mine; his warm breath fans my bangs. “This is the next logical step. You must know this.”

Angry, I try to turn away from him, holding back tears. “Did it ever occur to you that mayhap he knows nothing? And to simply end his torment, he’ll now tell you whatever you wish to hear?”

His eyes study my face, and his expression sours. “Come, Zara. You know that isn’t the truth.” His lips twist into a sneer. “After all, it was you who led the Force to him.”

My mouth falls open, and I shake my head. “No,” I whisper. I shove him backward one last time and free myself.

The tapestries along the corridors blur past me as I run, seeking an escape.

I don’t care that I have no plan—that I’m leaving with nothing. I need to be away from here. Now. Only one thing slows my pace.

My father.

What is happening to him in the Oubliette? Is he suffering the same fate from a similar device? When the mad misbehave, do they beat them and torture them back into line? Before I can think better of it, I’m hastening through the atrium, heading for the glass door.

The Oubliette can’t be far from the castle. It’s on the king’s grounds somewhere. Devlan has left the door unlocked, and I launch into the garden area and begin my search. There’s a latticed entrance to a maze past the garden, and the training ground is to my right. Deciding to go straight, I pick up the hem of my gown and run. A fire snakes its way down my throat.

I pass the center fountain and turn in to the entrance of the maze. Stumbling, I look down at what tripped me and nearly retch. A dead bird lies in the grass, its white neck crooked at an odd angle. I back away from it slowly, then head farther into the maze.

The walls of green stretch high above my head, and only the clouds guide my path. Everything else looks the same.

Two openings present themselves. I pause. I’m not sure that the Oubliette is even located here, but for some slightly twisted reason, I feel that it would be. I close my eyes for a moment, and then turn right.

The pathway feels never-ending. My heart races as I run faster, deeper toward the center. My limbs shake with panic and exertion. I reach a dead end and slam my hands into the wall of bushes. I could turn back, but I’ve wasted precious time. Beating down the wall feels right, and I claw at the stems and thorns. Hands latch onto my arms, and I yelp.

“Princess,” Devlan says, his voice deep, calm.

I continue my attack on the bushes. My hands are streaked with red. Devlan tears me away from the wall and turns me around, then pushes my back against the shrubbery.

He breathes deeply through his nose, his lips pressed into a hard line. His eyes scan my face as his chest rises and falls. “Don’t let them break you,” he whispers. “Be made of steel, like the walls that surround you.”

The depth of his pale blue eyes holds me captive. I see fear in them, but I also see strength, honor. His gaze is heated and steady, and something inside me wavers. As their blue intensifies, matching the bright streaks marring the sky, a strange calm settles over me.

When he seems convinced I’m through with my fit, he tentatively releases me. He’s close enough that I feel the heat rolling off his body. The inch of air between us is alive with tension until he slowly takes a step backward.

We stare at one another. Then he glances around the maze, his eyes seeking invisible ears, reminding me that I’m being spied on.

He turns and motions me before him, and we walk back silently. No more words between us.

* * *

Cameras are everywhere in Karm. Hidden, so that the old-world feel of the Camelot-esque culture is not lost. As I walk the castle grounds, today’s happenings heavy on my mind, I glance around at the tree branches, trying to spy one of the Eyes.

In my whole life, I’ve only witnessed a handful of arguments in town. Someone not happy with a purchase in the market, or another discontent with their placement or station. The Force addressed every episode swiftly, before it became a bigger matter. They use their watchful Eyes to remedy incidents immediately, assuring us that we live in a perfect society.

Most citizens are content living the fairytale life the king has created for them. I believe they are happy, in some strange way. But for all the wrong reasons. This is not how Camelot was ruled, by fear.

No one so much as gives a stern look to another. The king’s transmitted punishments suppress any thought of rebellion. We have been conditioned. It wasn’t possible that Mr. Levine was guilty of traitorous actions; we fear the consequences too much. And yet, he helped my father hide his illness. He probably helped others in the same way. Does wanting to care for sick people make you a traitor, though?

To King Hart and his Force, I suppose it does.

My hands sting. I curl my fingers toward my palm repeatedly, pumping my fists, attempting to alleviate the burn from the thorn scratches that cross my skin. There’s nothing to be done for the guilt eating away at my insides, though. It slices through me like a whip.

Had I not been elevated to this new station, Mr. Levine would be tending his shop this minute. The Force wouldn’t have been made aware of his actions if I hadn’t come to him for aid. I bow my head, wondering if there’s anything that will alleviate the shame I feel. There isn’t.

As Devlan leads me toward the lake, I stagger to a stop. A white bird lies dead before me, its wing broken. “That’s the second one I’ve seen.” I glance to the sky.

Devlan stands beside me and looks down at the bird. “A cleanup crew is needed,” he says into his silver communicator. “A bird—near the front of the lake.” He slides the device into his vest, then escorts me to the other side of the bank.

The wind ripples the surface of the lake, and I settle on the spongy grass. Where does the breeze come from? Is there a person somewhere in the castle pushing a button because a monitor says “cue pond ripple”? I laugh hollowly.

“Something amusing?” Devlan asks, unrolling a wad of gauze he took from the training grounds’ armory before bringing me here.

I take a labored breath, and try to quell the hysteria coursing through my system. I’m exhausted and angry and afraid, and all I want is to free my father and get the hell away. Instead of trying to explain this, I say, “Of course not. What could be amusing today?”

Settling down before me in the grass, he stretches out the gauze. “Let me see your hands.” I hold them out, and he gently wraps the thin material around each one, his head bent low. “When you’re asked”—his eyes flick to my face briefly—“you wanted to take some roses from the garden to your bed chamber, but you were impatient and didn’t use pruning shears.”

I crane an eyebrow. “You sound as if you’ve had practice inventing stories.” He turns his head away, and I study the side of his face. Stubble casts a slight shadow along the otherwise-smooth skin of his chin and jaw. “Sir Devlan, what was your station as first knight?”

He tucks the ends of the bandages in and places my hands in my lap, then looks at the ground and runs his hand along the grass. He finds a rock, stands, and shucks the stone out, skipping it across the top of the water. My chest tightens as I await his response.

In this moment, I miss Hadley’s constant chatter. My heart constricts, and I wonder whether she misses me, too.

“You know, Sir Devlan. Many women might find the quiet type endearing,” I say. “I admit, a man of few words has an attractive quality.” His head turns toward me. “But seeing how you’re one of the few people I have to converse with, your lack of conversational skills can be obnoxious.”

Taking two quick strides toward me, he stops a few inches from my crossed ankles and squats, balancing on the balls of his feet. His pale eyes shift into a darker blue, reflecting the lake. “Then I suppose I’ll have to remedy that,” he says, “considering His Highness has just assigned me as your personal guard.” His eyes take in my stricken features and I swallow. “Wouldn’t want to displease my charge, would I?”

“What—why? You’re the first knight. Surely there’s something more important Sebastian needs of you rather than being my watch dog.”

“I agree.”

Stunned, I part my lips to speak but nothing comes out. He presses on. “I was the knight commander. And as such, my duties were to train and command knights in combat and protect the king. But, since there is no war, no lands to conquer, I suppose after what happened in the arcade, the prince feels you’re the most valuable of his possessions in need of protection.”

His words weigh down on my shoulders like lead, sinking me farther into this cage. “Well, you have the possession part right.” I turn my gaze from his, looking to the water. A moment passes, and Devlan stands, putting distance between us.

Another wave of guilt washes over me. I’ve now had the knight commander demoted to a sitter. My sitter.

“I can be unseen,” Devlan says. “If that makes it easier for you.”

“Nay. That’s not necessary.” And not in my favor. He’s going to be watching me closer now. Not knowing his whereabouts would make running away more difficult than it already is.

Mayhap I’ve been going about this wrong. What if I should become the most undesirable girl in all of Karm? Would Sebastian still want to spend the rest of his life with a wife bent on making him miserable? He may show me past the castle gate himself. A smile twitches at my lips until I remember Mr. Levine’s cries. This is not a game.

Sebastian is prepared to take on that challenge, just as Madity claimed. His ego at breakfast verified my first assumptions of the vain prince. If he doesn’t put me in the torture device, then my actions may only succeed in making him want me more. The one girl who doesn’t fall all over herself to be near him. As Devlan put it, there’s no great war, no lands to conquer. Sebastian’s greatest conquest will be my affections.

Devlan interrupts my brooding as he kneels on one knee before me. “Princess,” he says, and glances toward the tree branches before continuing. “This is the one place in Court where the wind disrupts the amplifiers.”

“The listening devices?”

He nods. “I must tell you that your father is gone.”

“I know,” I say. “I watched—”

“No. He’s truly gone.” Lacing his fingers together, he cups his knee, straightens his back. “The Virus took him during the night. He was incinerated this morning.”

My heart plummets past my stomach. The nausea returns with renewed vengeance, and I gag, my swollen throat biting back the rising bile. Tears burn my eyes, then fall freely, scorching a hot path down my face. I wrap my arms around my stomach and rock.

I force myself to hold still. My body trembles with the restraint.

I must stay composed. I must stay composed. I repeat this mantra because the Eyes are watching.

Devlan lowers his head, putting his gaze level with mine. “Princess,” he says, his tone cautionary. “You mustn’t fall apart. I’ve only told you this so you’ll dismiss any notion of fleeing.”

My focus sharpens, until I’m finally seeing him through my blurred vision. “Why do you chance telling me?”

“You can’t outrun the Force.” His features harden. “You have to accept that your life is here. Banish all thoughts of escape. For your mental stability and to stay alive.”

I feel fresh tears sliding down my cheeks, but I refuse to wipe them away.

My father’s dead. Dead.

The earth looks so inviting that I want to curl into myself and simply lie there. Possibly forever.

A long moment passes where I stare out over the lake. Silent. I can’t do this on my own. I look at my gauze-wrapped hands and allow the heartache to consume me. Sebastian took away my last moments with my father. I may not have had much time left with him, but it was still my time. My last memories of him are filled with the Force beating him and hauling him away.

Devlan speaks the truth. My mind clearly understands that what he says is logical. My brain comprehends this somewhere behind the pain. I have no chance. Now that my father is truly gone, I should accept my new life in the castle.

But my father’s desperate plea still haunts me, and all that I’ve seen in a single day’s time only confirms his wish—his demand. Regardless of what happens, I must attempt to escape.

I nod my head, hoping a weak acknowledgment will at least placate the first knight. I cannot have him turn me over to his prince or the Force. He must trust that, by losing my father, I’ve abandoned my quest. Of course, now that Sebastian has stationed his Number One at my side, I’ll have to be more creative to escape.

With a furrowed brow, Devlan studies my face for a moment longer, then stands. He’s silent, like it’s the most natural thing to never speak as he patiently waits for me to finish out my tears.

I take my time, saying goodbye to my father in my mind. I will love you forever. I will never forget you, even if I cannot speak your name. Find Mother, and then one day, I will search for you both. I tell him all the things I’d have said if I had not been denied that right.

After what feels like hours, I look up at Devlan and take a steadying breath, forcing false strength into my voice. “If I’m going to be here, tell me. What the hell is there to do around this place?”

A fleeting half-smile breaks across his face. He looks relieved I’ve not melted into a pile of writhing girl parts. “What does the princess desire?”

“For one, you to stop calling me that.”

He doesn’t respond, only continues to stare at me, waiting for another response.

“I don’t know. I used to love taking care of the newly cloned animals on my father’s farm. Is there any wildlife here? Do you have livestock or something?”

He nods. “We have a stable. Horses.”

My chest flutters. We tended to cows and pigs. Sometimes ducks, rabbits, and other small animals. But never horses. I’ve never ridden one. The thought excites me and gives me a new idea. Escaping on foot probably isn’t wise. I’ll need something fast.

My insides are shattered, and I could disappear into myself—lock myself away in my chamber. Instead, I will focus my anger and forge a plan.

I look Devlan in the eyes. “Show me.”

* * *

The air is a mix of damp hay and meal. It pricks at my nose, and I feel at home. I take a deep breath, and fresh tears brim my eyes. I push the pain deeper, further from my consciousness. My hands slide along the wood railing as Devlan leads the way to the stable. For once he’s not behind me. He’s off to my left, and points as he navigates my course.

“You won’t be able to come here alone.” He glances my way. “There’s a code.”

My eyes slip over him, taking in his lean but well-built physique. He’s probably even stronger than he looks. “And I take it you won’t give me the code.”

“Nay.”

“Of course.”

We continue our trek and the stable comes into view. It looks like a regular wooden structure. As we get closer, I see the shatterproof glass doors that are also throughout the castle. Although it looks like mere wood, Devlan’s words to me in the maze remind me that solid steel is between those walls. Nothing could penetrate it or the castle. I study every inch as we step up to the door, looking for a flaw in the system.

Devlan’s key chain jangles as he unhooks it from the inside of his uniform. His fingers pick out a large, rusted key, and he inserts it into the keyhole on the side of the stable. A glass latch pops open revealing a dial pad, and he maneuvers in front of me, blocking my view as he enters his code. He steps back, and I flinch when a green beam shoots out from the top of the door.

“Hold still,” he says. “It’s just scanning your image.”

I nod, then stop. Hold still. The light scans over my face and moves down my body. Through tight lips, I say, “Is this necessary? For horses?”

His face hardens. “Court horses are of great value.”

I frown, wondering who would be stupid enough to try and steal the king’s horses and go against the Force. A shiver skitters down my spine. I suppose that’d be me.

The doors slide apart, and Devlan walks between them first. I hesitantly follow, my eyes sweeping the entrance. Not only would I somehow have to figure out the code, I’d have to snatch Devlan’s key ring. There doesn’t seem to be another way. I glance to the far back. The stable is completely enclosed. No other door. Hell.

I look around and notice the cozy stalls and feel a little better. Like my father, I love animals, and couldn’t bear it if they were kept in a harsh environment. As I continue to look, I’m reminded of my enclosure, and suddenly feel like I’m not the only prisoner in Court.

The horses nicker as we walk past. They seem strong, fierce, graceful. One catches my eye. I can’t tell if it’s a boy or girl, but it’s beautiful. Solid white with a long creamy mane.

“Her name is Hawken.” Devlan steps up to the stall’s gate. He stretches his hand out, palm up, and Hawken sniffs it.

“She’s gorgeous.” I remove the gauze from one hand, slip it beneath the sash of my gown, and mimic his action. Her nostrils take in my scent, tickling my palm as she snorts. A small laugh escapes my mouth.

Devlan withdraws his hand and leans against the side of the gate, watching me. I become brave and stretch out my other hand, reaching for the soft hair just above her eyes. She blinks once, then nuzzles her head closer to me. My cheeks tingle as my smile widens.

“She likes you,” Devlan says.

I giggle a little as she nudges my hand. “I like her, too.”

From the corner of my vision, I notice that Devlan continues to watch me, not Hawken. Suddenly self-conscious, I pull my hand back and press it to my dress.

He clears his throat, finally moving his gaze from me and back to the horse. “That’s the first I’ve seen of your true smile.”

An ache lodges in my throat. I know I must act unaware of my father’s death in front of the Eyes, but it’s tearing at me to perform. I pull back my shoulders, lift my chin. Devlan risked much by telling me of his death. I owe it to him to hold strong.

The first knight probably loathes himself for showing weakness, for dropping his guard and giving in to my tears. Even now, I’m hungry for him to acknowledge me in that very real way again, though I know that will never happen. He was the commander. Before I ran into the arcade, his station was far more significant than watching over a princess. He simply wants me compliant—a burden-free charge.

He’s not my friend. He’s my guard. I’m alone here, with no confidant. However, he’s helped me more than anything, anyone, as I’ve resolved to be strong—to not let them break me.

And to find a way out.

For a moment, I pretend my smile affects him as much as my pain did. But when I look up into his pale blue eyes, his armor’s in place, and I know I’ll never see that emotion again. He’s a knight. He has no reason to want my happiness.

This morning, I thought he was threatening me. I might be mistaken in assuming his warning before I entered the atrium was meant for my benefit. It may have been for his own preservation. He doesn’t want to answer to King Hart for my disappearance.

At the thought of encountering King Hart and his Force, a fierce shudder rocks my body. When I do leave, it must be for good.

I step away from the railing and walk toward the back of the stable. “Whose horse is she?” I look over my shoulder.

Devlan pushes off the gate and trails behind. “Prince Sebastian’s.”

Of course. He would have the most stunning. Something he feels possibly equals his own beauty. “Will I have my own horse to ride, then?”

“I’m sure the prince wouldn’t mind sharing Hawken with you,” he says. “At least while you learn to ride. Then he’ll give you any horse you desire.”

“Who’s to train me to ride?” I glance around at the other horses. Fine animals, though not nearly as gorgeous as Sebastian’s.

“We have a stable hand. Jericho. He could be your instructor.” The thought that I might be alone with only a stable boy and not a guard crosses my mind. I’m nearly giddy until Devlan says, “I’d also monitor.”

I deflate. There has to be some way I can manage being alone. There are too many complications and not enough solutions. My chest constricts, and I press my palm to my breastbone.

I turn around and head back toward the entrance of the stable. Ready to pry a little deeper and try to unearth some knowledge about my riding lessons, I open my mouth, but a crackling noise cuts me off.

I spin around as Devlan brings out his communicator. “Doesn’t that defeat the purpose of King Hart’s illusion?”

His lips purse and his eyebrows pull together. “It’s necessary,” he says to me, then into the circular device, “Devlan.”

Static hisses, and a deep voice booms over the transmission. “Princess Zara is needed in her chamber.” A beat. “Her maid is making preparations for tonight’s ceremony.”

“We’re coming now.” Devlan places the shiny device back inside his uniform.

I press harder against my chest, wishing I could reach inside and stop the pressure—stop my body from responding to the fear that overtakes me when Devlan announces, “It’s time.”

SIX

The hallway leading to my chamber is somehow colder, emptier, and shorter. It takes me far less time to reach my room than before. My mind fruitlessly searches for a way to stall for time as Devlan walks silently behind me.

My stomach knots as understanding settles over me that I have no way out of the betrothal ceremony. For now, I must go through with it, and then plan an escape before the wedding.

I reach for the silver handle of my door, but Devlan’s hand gently grasps my wrist. My entire body freezes. Even my breath doesn’t dare stir the air.

He spins me toward him, his face a mask, unreadable. Turning my gauze-free hand over, he spreads my fingers open as he places something cool and heavy in my palm.

A communicator.

I look up questioningly as he retracts his hand, resting it on the pommel of his sword. “It’s set to my frequency,” he says. “If you should ever need anything, just press the button to summon me.”

“Sebastian fears for my safety this much?” I rotate the contraption and rub my thumb over its sleek silver.

He doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, he clears his throat and transfers his weight from one foot to the other. “Nay,” he finally says. “This is from me.” My eyes look up in time to catch him drive his hand through his tousled dark hair. “Just in case you should want for anything, and…it’s not much, but it’s my present to you. For your birthday.” His eyes shift, glancing around the corridor. Looking everywhere but at me. “What I have to offer you.”

With all of today’s happenings, I’d pushed the thought of my birthday far from my mind. A pang hits my chest as I realize the death of my father will forever taint the celebration of my birth.

As I continue to caress the device, heat builds in my core, spreading warmth throughout my body. Devlan is trying to salvage some small joy of this day. Mayhap there will be a time when the wound isn’t as fresh. “Thank you,” I say. “This is kind, Sir Devlan.”

He adjusts his stance again, looking uncomfortable. Then he nods a half-bow. “It will be an honor to serve you, Prin—” his lips curl into a rare smile “—Zara,” he finishes.

Before I have time to fully acknowledge the tingles prickling my skin, he turns on his heel and heads down the hallway. My stomach quivers, and I’m struck with the realization that his gift to me was not what I hold in my hand, but rather the flicker of emotion I saw in his eyes—my name on his lips. His offer of protection.

A slow smile sneaks onto my face as I slip the communicator beneath my dress, between my bodice and chest. I open the door. Madity is racing back and forth, gathering lace and ribbons. I sigh, my mood dimming. No, today’s not a celebration.

Sebastian needs to be recognized as a man before he takes the throne. This ceremony is a display—a show for his father and Karm. This is Sebastian’s proof he’s ready to rule despite his youth.

How old is Devlan? Is he younger or older than Sebastian? He seems too young to have obtained such a high station so quickly. But then, how old does the knight commander need to be in a world lacking outside threats?

“Princess,” Madity says, her breaths coming in pants. “What happened to your hands?”

I take in her panicked state and shrug. “Roses?”

She grimaces; a disbelieving look crosses her face. “We have much to do.” She drops the ribbons on the bed. Her weathered skin shines with sweat. “We have to prepare your bath of oils and potpourri. We have to pluck—”

“Absolutely no plucking, Madity,” I cut her off. “I’ll remove what hair I wish with a scrub.” Honestly, sometimes the era is just cruel.

She scrunches her face and points toward the bathing room. The line between her eyebrows deepens, and she purses her lips, daring me to argue with her no-nonsense task of readying me for the ceremony.

For her sake, I surrender. I don’t want to get her into trouble, or possibly punished for my stubbornness. I sigh and march into the bathing room. I’m in for a painful transformation.

* * *

The archway is dark. A curtain of midnight-blue velvet is the only thing separating me from the hall of citizens awaiting the betrothal of Prince Sebastian and his chosen princess.

My face flames. A mixture of anger and embarrassment causes my heart to beat faster, my blood rushing through my veins, as I think about meeting Sebastian at the altar. I’ve not heard from him since my display in the arcade. I’m sure he’s plenty vexed, but apparently not enough if I’m standing here now, readying myself to become his betrothed. I fear I’d have to humiliate him far worse for him to call off this engagement.

Fury pools in my stomach like fiery lava as I remember his cruel words to me in the inner ward. I try to douse it, reminding myself that I can’t show my revulsion for the prince. Not with all of Karm watching. I bury his words, and the knowledge of him depriving me of my last moments with my father, deep inside.

I must get through tonight.

Madity stands next to me, her sure hands fidgeting with the lace backing of my gown. The skirt flows to the floor, leaving a trail of white satin behind me. The long white sleeves connect at the lace-trimmed bodice, leaving my shoulders bare. It’s more skin than I’ve ever shown in public, and I continually tug at the sleeves, trying to pull them higher.

Back in my chamber, Madity applied a beige cream to my hands to conceal the scrapes. My hair was worked into a braided halo around my head with white satin ribbon woven through, achieving the angel effect Madity strove for. She outdid herself. Even I didn’t recognize myself in the mirror.

Though this is merely the engagement, proof to God and everyone that we intend to marry, it’s taken quite seriously. A robed friar awaits me at the altar. He’s to bless us, confirm our intentions to marry, and cry the banns, asking if anyone knows a reason for us not to be united.

I imagine Hadley springing from her pew and denouncing the betrothal, but that’s a ridiculous thought. Even if she wished to do so for my sake, she can’t, not without putting herself in danger. I harbor no false hope of anyone speaking out against this union.

My head swims as Madity gives my dress one last fluff, then turns toward the little boy holding my commitment gift to Sebastian. A round, silver locket that he’ll clip to his vest. And inside it, a lock of my hair.

“Remember to stay to the right,” she tells the boy. “Just behind Princess Zara.”

He nods while yanking on the collar of his blue vest, looking as uncomfortable as I feel.

Madity disappears down the corridor, and in a few moments, returns with a thin, silver band. A crown. From here on out, I’ll be expected to wear it. I bow my head for her as she gently places it over my braid. One small blue jewel drips from its center, resting against my brow.

“You’re breathtaking, Zara,” she says. “I mean, Princess Zara.” She bows once, then turns and joins the other help standing along the back wall of the hall.

I self-consciously rub my leg, wanting to feel my dagger, but the itchy material of my garter chafes me instead. I hid the dagger in my chamber. I’d not bring my father’s weapon into a room full of the Force. I consider myself brave, most days, not stupid, but I need the feel of the dagger pressed against my skin, its comfort. Though it hasn’t been in my possession long, I feel strangely like a piece of me is missing.

Taking a deep breath, I face the blue velvet curtain as it begins to part. An orchestra of mandolins, flutes, and drums fills my ears—it’s my cue. I take a shaky step forward, my legs numb.

Row upon row of commoners and nobles are seated in the pews. Their dress is all in shades of blue and gray, complementing the blue and silver tapestries draping the white stone walls. Tall candelabras line the walls and either side of the altar, and the glow of their small flames creates an illusion of warmth despite the cool air of the large hall.

As I walk past the citizens of Karm, I feel their eyes on me. I ball my hands into fists as the girls I grew up with snicker. Their envious glares disarm me, but when I spot Hadley—the worry in her dark eyes, the frown marring her always smiling lips—I’m nearly undone. She mouths the words, “Are you all right?”

All I can manage is a quick nod. Her lips lift into a small, heartened smile, and I’m two seconds from running straight to her when I catch Sebastian’s gaze. His eyes find and hold mine, then his lips spread into a beautiful smile and his face lights up, the soft glow from the candles adding to the effect.

I must get through this. Then I can find my best friend again.

His dark blue vest is embroidered with silver. A fitted gray tunic beneath displays his well-defined arms as he stands tall, his shoulders back. The blue-jeweled hilt of his sword stands out against his silver belt. Blue is the color of purity. I inwardly cringe. He should be wearing any color other than blue. Pure is not how I’d describe the haughty prince who oversees horrific punishments. However, he could be wearing it for another meaning…

The thought makes me stumble, but I quickly catch and right myself. I’ve always assumed, with the maidens pining after him, that he must be experienced. Surely he is. However, at least I don’t have to worry about the wedding night at this time.

What does upset me is I’m about to have my first kiss. With Sebastian. It won’t be like I’ve always imagined: with someone I care for. It will be shared with the man who’s trapped me here, who tore me away from my father and my home.

For a moment, my eyes drift toward Sebastian’s first knight, at his left. Devlan’s pale blue gaze meets mine, and my stomach plummets to my feet. His eyes glisten with intensity, as if he’s urging me forward with his stare alone. His features harden suddenly. I’ve yet to read him well, but it’s as if he’s battling some internal conflict. More likely, he’s reminding me that I’m his charge—that I better not mess up, for his sake.

When I reach Sebastian, he extends his hand to me. I stare at it, transfixed, remembering the feel of his hands as they crushed my arms. I force myself to take it. It’s warm and uncallused. He guides me to kneel with him before the altar.

His eyes sweep over me. “Beautiful, Zara,” he whispers. “You’re my vision.”

My molars bite down, and my jaw aches as I refrain from shouting that I’m not his. He can’t possess me like a horse or property.

Before my anger can root any deeper, the gray-haired friar steps to the side of the long altar, and my real fear begins. This will be the first time I lay eyes on King Hart.

Before most of Karm was constructed, King Hart built a secret chamber, a place where he’s rumored to stay hidden away from the Virus. Although we all know the Virus lurks in our veins and is not airborne, still, he’s somehow survived all these years. My father told me that his own father was one of the first to be brought into Karm. King Hart was ancient then, he said. He’s the oldest citizen of Karm, but no one knows his actual age.

My father had his own theories as to why King Hart stays hidden—why he never leaves his secret fortress. He believed Hart had discovered a way to extend his lifespan, maybe even to defy death, yet in doing so, he bound himself to some nefarious contraption that keeps him from ever leaving his chamber’s confines.

I don’t know the truth. I don’t know whether he’s survived all these years because he’s somehow escaped the fate awaiting the rest of us and now lives in fear of contamination, or whether he’s hooked up to some apparatus—

Static echoes through the ceremonial hall.

My palms slick with sweat.

All I know for sure is he’s about to appear on the giant wall monitor before me, and my heart is about to pound right through my chest.

“Citizens of Karm.” King Hart’s gravelly voice echoes through the hall. “I am honored to be here on this joyous day.”

Waves of static wash over his pale face. The monitor’s blue-gray hue doesn’t disguise his pallid color, but rather emphasizes it. His skin is unnaturally smooth, with what looks like strategically-placed wrinkles around his mouth, eyes, and forehead. It shines as if it’s stretched too tight, made of something other than flesh. But it’s his unearthly gray eyes—as if illuminated from within—that unnerve me.

I force my eyes away from the screen and look to Sebastian as a shiver crawls up my spine. He’s watching his father with a look of awe on his face, and I wonder how King Hart appears to him.

My gaze finds Devlan, the only one in the hall besides me not watching the flickering monitor. His eyes are on me. They seem to zero in on my fear, making me feel exposed. He holds my stare a moment longer before angling his face toward the screen.

“Today is a momentous occasion,” King Hart continues, and I look up at him. “Today my son, Prince Sebastian Hart, becomes betrothed.” His eyes seem to peer down at me. A sharp spasm of fear stabs my chest. “Zara Dane. Now Princess Zara to all of Karm, and Prince Sebastian, confirm their engagement and intention to wed.” His eyes scan the crowd. “And in taking a wife, the prince begins his ascent toward becoming King. Our hope for the prosperity of our future.”

There’s a hesitant pause, then the hall erupts into cheers and applause. Sebastian’s hands squeeze mine, and I look at him. Pride wells in his eyes. Not the arrogance or vanity that he first showed when I met him, but a dignified pride. A twinge of regard for his station and duties rises within me, despite my reluctance to marry him.

“Sebastian.” King Hart draws our attention back to him. His mouth creases into a thin smile. “I bless this day and your future marriage to Zara.” He bows, and we see the top of his glossy, silver hair.

Sebastian bows his head and the screen goes black. Silence thrums the hall like a plucked string that’s been strung too tightly.

The friar steps up to the altar, and my heart hammers. I remind myself that I’m not leaving here married. This is just the betrothal, but King Hart’s piercing gray eyes stare at me in my mind’s eye. I feel defeated, as if this is only the beginning of a lifetime imprisonment. I clamp my eyes shut.

When I open them, Sebastian is smiling. “Relax,” he says. “This part is nearly over.”

He thinks I’m merely nervous to be in front of the crowd. Which I am, but there’s so much more. I can’t do this. I can’t commit myself to someone I don’t love. I can’t commit my life to serving and enforcing the laws that my father was punished for breaking. Or condoning “questioning procedures.” I’m seconds away from hyperventilating when Devlan moves closer to us, holding out Sebastian’s commitment gift.

Sebastian takes his gift as Devlan watches me. Again, it’s as if he’s urging me to continue—to go through with it. He steps back, and my vision fills with the line of crimson and black-clad knights stretching across the back of the ceremonial hall. The Force stands at attention, their eyes seeming to bore right though me. There’s no getting through that barricade.

The little boy comes forward. He’s the same height as me in my kneeling position. I take the locket from him. Drops of water sprinkle my hair as the friar blesses us. His murmured chant barely reaches my ears. He pauses, looking out to the crowd. “Should anyone here know of a reason why these two may not be united, let them speak.”

The tightening in my chest forces all the air from my lungs. I’m desperate to seek each pair of eyes in the hall, implore someone to commiserate with me, but I keep my gaze steady on Sebastian.

My heart sinks as the friar continues. “You may exchange your commitment gifts and solidify your engagement.”

My hands shake as I clip the locket to Sebastian’s vest. “With this, I will commit myself to being your wife. Body, mind, and soul.” Inside, I cringe. It’s only words. The vow will never be consummated.

I stare at the floor as I await Sebastian’s gift. He reaches out and slides his fingers along my jawline as he tilts my face up to look at him. His golden eyes shimmer in the candlelight.

“With this,” he says, undoing the clasp of a silver chain. “I will commit myself to being your husband. Body, mind, and soul.” He separates his hands, expanding the chain, then drapes it around my neck. His hands press against my neck as he clasps the necklace, and my skin tingles at the feel of his soft skin on mine.

A heart-shaped silver locket rests against my breastbone. It weighs on my skin, cold and heavy. His hands linger, cupping my neck just below my jawline; his thumbs rest against my cheeks. I hold my breath as I wait for Sebastian’s lips to touch mine.

His gaze traps mine, and a rare flash of concern registers on his face. He draws me to him as he moves forward, closer. The hand facing the crowd shields my lips as he places a kiss next to my mouth, on my cheek.

“I can be patient,” he whispers in my ear. “Just don’t make me wait too long.”

My clenched muscles relax, and my lips release a breath. The crowd cheers, but I barely hear them over the whooshing in my ears.

Sebastian takes my hands and pulls me up beside him as he rises. He doesn’t seem to be too disappointed over the missed opportunity to kiss me. His face is lit with excitement. “Ready for the celebration?”

SEVEN

The slow, earthy music from mandolins and flutes echoes off the stone walls of the great hall. I’m seated upon a dais at the head of the room, at a table laden with every kind of dish imaginable. The smells of vanilla and roasted meat perfume the air. Roast beef, cutlets of chicken, and racks of lamb are presented on massive porcelain serving platters. Silver trays and baked rolls fill the few open areas of the tablecloth.

The high walls are swathed with blue and silver velvet. Iron vines holding lit votives wrap the high pillars. Their small flames twinkle, blanketing the air with jasmine and spice.

Sebastian rests his chin in his hand as he watches the room bounce and sway, the citizens dancing in celebration of his betrothal. He’s not spoken of my outburst in the arcade, and I’m reluctant to press him on the subject. I know Mr. Levine is dead. I don’t need his confirmation. No one could survive that much torture.

And it’s my fault.

I finger my locket, trying to push it over the top of my gown. It keeps slipping under, its chill and weight foreign against my skin. Annoyed, I give up with a huff and pick at the chicken on my plate. The guilt over Mr. Levine’s and my father’s deaths make it impossible to eat.

Sebastian takes a long sip of wine and peeks at me above the rim of his goblet. He sets it down. “Zara. Dance with me.” Amusement laces his voice. “I’ve never had the pleasure with you.”

Of course not. I’ve never been to any of the court’s gatherings or celebrations. “Not now, my lord. I’m weary from the ceremony.”

His smile widens. “Ah. You’re still angry with me for my harsh tone earlier today.” He takes my hand. “Come now. I’ll make it up to you. It’s our night, after all.”

“This is not our night. It’s yours.” It’s true. The Court doesn’t celebrate our engagement. They bask in a drunken stupor over their prince soon becoming a king and continuing their life of extravagance. As the ceremony was open to all of Karm, the celebration is privileged to only the nobles. The ones who benefit from the hard work and mistreatment of the commoners.

Commoners like my father, Mr. Levine, and I used to be. Stationed to work beneath others.

Sebastian grips my hand tighter and pulls me from my chair and thoughts. “Nonsense.” He half-drags me toward the center of the room. “Don’t be intimidated, my love. I’m sure you can keep up.”

My skin recoils from his touch as he wraps me in an embrace. Renewed anger blooms beneath my chest. “I’m sure I can match your sloppy steps, and your dull wit for that matter, as your wine-soaked brain has left you lacking in charms.”

“I’m not drunk…yet.” He laughs, then sobers as he dips his face toward mine, leaning in close. “But I assure you—” his voice is low and husky as he begins to sway us “—if I was attempting to seduce you, you’d not resist me so easily.” His eyes bore into mine, and his sweet, winey breath skims my lips.

I push against his chest, backing him away from me a few inches. “Manners, Sebastian.” I scan the room, looking for curious stares. “Don’t want to cause a scandal in front of your subjects.”

He throws his head back and laughs louder. “You’re my betrothed. And extremely sexy tonight.” He pulls me closer and rocks us back and forth. “I doubt they’d fault me for wanting to be with you.”

The air catches in my throat, trying to choke me, and I cough. He can’t be serious. From the little I know of Sebastian, I’ve found his humor insensitive and crass, but I can’t figure out if he’s joking or insinuating we should be together before we’re wed.

That will not happen, but I suddenly feel caught, like I’m a fish stuck in a net and wriggling for freedom. Except he’s the slippery one, and I can’t grasp the truth in his words.

I attempt to relax against him, allowing him to lead as his hands caress my lower back. I’m acutely aware of his chest pressed to mine, his hips pressed to my hips. He smells of rain and masculine cologne. My eyes shut, taking in his scent, and my head swims. Whether from the little bit of wine I had with supper or his proximity, I’m unsure. He’s dancing far too close for era customs, and I’m uncomfortable with his show.

Turning my head to the side, I seek air not shared between the prince and me, and notice Devlan across the room. He’s leaning against the far wall and burning a hole into something, or someone, with his eyes. Shifting my head, I follow his gaze. One of the king’s Round Table knights of the Force—the one who callously took me from my home—Larsen… Laren… no, Larkin is dancing with a petite girl in a satin cream dress.

I look back at Devlan and consider the gravity of his stare. Is he angry that Sir Larkin isn’t dressed in uniform? The girl is beautiful. Mayhap she’s someone Devlan cares for. I smile to myself, trying to envision the over-serious Devlan being romantic with anyone. It’s an amusing thought. He takes his duty as first knight too severely to become involved.

Why do I care?

I don’t care. I’m trying to avoid my thoughts of the betrothal and my father and being this close to Sebastian now. Imagining a scandal with the knights is a good distraction from my own situation. Soon, I’ll have to plot an escape, and that thought terrifies me, especially after witnessing the Force torturing Mr. Levine, and seeing the dreaded King Hart on the monitor during the ceremony.

Sebastian nuzzles his head closer to mine, resting his cheek against my temple. “See,” he whispers in my ear, his breath warm on my skin. “This isn’t so bad.”

I don’t respond. I can’t. If I open my mouth in this moment, everything will fly out. He’s forcing me to marry him, to be a queen, and sit idly by as he rules his realm with malice and fear. I want nothing to do with that, and I detest him and this era for not allowing me a say in my own future, and this shattered world for taking my father.

I won’t rule over a kingdom where everyone you love is taken by some Virus no one understands. Where everyone pretends Karm isn’t a neat lie woven into a pretty package meant to deceive us about the horrid truth of our reality. Most days, I wonder if everyone is being fed some drug that keeps them in a lucid daze, and somehow, I’m the only one immune.

The music switches tempo, and bodies break apart as the beat demands a fast-paced dance. I separate from Sebastian, but his hands linger on my waist.

“Well, thank you for the dance,” I say. “But I’m too tired from today’s events to entertain you further.” I curtsy slightly, keeping my eyes on him.

He nods. “I’m pleased with our first dance,” he says, and I arch an eyebrow. “Let me escort you back to the table.” He offers me his arm.

I accept it, latching my fingers onto his solid arm, and suspect he’s flexing. Sebastian is built well; I’ll admit to that. He has a tight, muscular form that makes the girls of Karm swoon, but his arrogance ruins the effect. The appalling words that fall from his mouth shatter the illusion.

“Prince Sebastian,” a high-pitched voice calls from behind us. I turn with Sebastian as he guides me to face a perfectly polished young maiden. No doubt a lady of the court, flawlessly packaged in a gleaming silver dress, as if she stepped right out of a painting.

Sebastian tips his head forward. “Miss Cecily.” He pivots my way. “I don’t believe you’ve had the privilege of meeting my betrothed.”

Cecily’s gleaming blue eyes sweep over me, very apparently. “Congratulations on your engagement. It’s wonderful to make your acquaintance, Princess Zara.” She curtsies low.

“Thank you. It’s lovely to meet you, Miss Cecily.” I attempt to mimic her expert curtsy, but feel I’m not quite as lithe.

Her lips twitch, and she covers her mouth with a gloved hand. I scrunch my eyebrows and look at Sebastian, but his face is stoic. I realize my blunder. Madity coached me not to bow or curtsy to others of a lower station now that I’m considered royalty. Heat splashes my cheeks.

Cecily doesn’t acknowledge my ignorance for long. She quickly moves her gaze to Sebastian. “You’re not going to sit out the Branle, are you, Prince Sebastian?” She twirls a perfectly coiled blonde curl around her finger.

Standing awkwardly by his side, I look up to Sebastian as he clears his throat. “Actually, my princess needs a respite.” His eyes glance at me. “She’s weary from today’s events.”

I open my mouth to agree, but Cecily cuts in. “It would be an honor to dance in her stead.” She moves closer to Sebastian. “I would hate for you to miss out on your favorite dance.” She puckers her mouth into a pout.

Oh, for heaven’s sake. “Please, Miss Cecily,” I say. “I’d appreciate you keeping the prince entertained while I rest.” I give Sebastian a curt nod, then quit their company before my supper makes an unwanted appearance on the dance floor.

As I weave my way toward the table, I force my jaw to unclench. If dancing with Sebastian and laughing at my lack of etiquette gives this noble girl satisfaction, so be it. It only vexes me a small amount that she believes she’s… well, vexed me.

I settle down in my chair and release a heavy breath. Lugging my gown around is tiring work, though at least Madity removed the train after the ceremony. I find myself missing her company as I watch the nobles dance and laugh. She’s the closest thing I have to a friend here.

Sebastian and Cecily hold hands and dance around the room, skipping and clapping and laughing with the other courtiers. I’ll admit, Sebastian is a fine dancer. Cecily equals his grace, making them stand out amid the others. They look good together, evenly matched in both beauty and elegance. Why didn’t he choose her? She obviously wouldn’t be despondent over marrying the prince of Karm.

Sebastian cuts out of the dance early and joins me at the table. He’s quiet, and I choose to say nothing about Cecily. I’ve met many of the court ladies tonight, and all have been flirtatious toward Sebastian and standoffish with me. I’m sure this will become the norm for my relationships with them.

I sigh, missing Hadley with a deep ache. After seeing her drawn face tonight, I realize it will never be the same. I don’t know whether she assumes I’ll ignore her because of my new station, or if she’s upset because this was her dream. She’ll never know that I’ve been removed to this place, and wouldn’t disregard her on purpose, though that doesn’t matter now. I must sever ties. I don’t want to endanger anyone when I run. She’ll honestly have no knowledge of my whereabouts.

I push the heavy thoughts from my mind and scan the room. Devlan’s attention is still taken. I try to spot the couple on the floor, but they’re no longer dancing. The girl in the cream dress is just slipping through the arched doorway. Larkin stands at a table for a moment, then sets down his wine and follows after her. Scandalous, indeed.

Devlan takes a step forward as if he’s going to pursue them, but halts. His eyes shoot in our direction—to me. His features are strained, his brow furrowed, but he chooses to come to us instead of chasing down the couple.

I grab a dinner roll and tear small pieces onto my plate, giving my hands something to do. What is the story behind the gray-eyed knight and the girl in the cream dress? If I asked Devlan, would he tell me? I shake my head. I have too many worries of my own to make it my business.

Sebastian stands to meet Devlan as he approaches. “Devlan,” he says. “All is well?”

“Yes, Your Highness. Everyone is enjoying themselves.” His eyes dart to me, then back to Sebastian.

“Then I suggest you do the same,” Sebastian says. “There’s a room full of waiting maidens and you’re hovering over us. Go.” He flicks his wrist, waving his hand toward the dance floor. “Find one to entertain you for the night.”

Devlan bows his head. “Yes, my lord,” he says, but his eyes seek mine through his dark fringe of lashes. As if he’s waiting for my dismissal. He’s now my personal guard, but does that mean watching over me even while I’m in Sebastian’s presence?

I meet his eyes and nod lightly, assuring him that I’m all right.

He bows his head farther. “Princess Zara.” Turning on his heel, he departs. He heads toward the opposite end of the room, and I watch him go, oddly concerned if I did the right thing.

“That was unnecessary,” I say, keeping my eyes on Devlan as he maneuvers through the dancing crowd. “I don’t need a personal guard, Sebastian.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Sebastian drinks his wine, taking two long pulls. “Devlan is my best knight. I trust him above all to keep you safe.”

I cock an eyebrow and look at him. “Safe from what?”

“Zara…” He breathes my name. “Not now.” His voice is stern, and I can hear the warning. “I’ll happily discuss this with you another time and bicker till your bickering heart is content, but right now,” he takes my hand, “indulge me. Pretend you are a new, happily betrothed princess enamored with her prince.” A smile spreads across his face and he laces his fingers through mine.

For now, I give in to his wishes. It won’t do me any good to start a fight here, demanding to know things. Soon I’ll need him to believe that I am happy, or at least content, if I’m going to escape. If he continues to question me, placing guards to monitor my every move, I’ll never get away.

I grit my teeth and force a smile. It seems to satisfy him, and he swallows down the last of his wine.

“Here.” I push his empty glass aside. “Let me get you another.” He’s stunned silent by my offer, but I leave before he can question me. Maybe if he gets drunk enough he’ll pass out. Then I can return to my chamber and be rid of this night.

As I’m taking a newly filled goblet from the wine table, I spy Devlan talking into his communicator, his eyes hard and intense.

I glance around at all the other knights laughing and dancing, then back to Devlan’s wary expression. His eyes snap to me, and the worry within their blue depths stirs renewed fear in my chest.

I suspect I’m missing something tonight, and it’s much bigger than the prince’s betrothal.

EIGHT

As the night progresses, I dance with gentlemen as they greet Sebastian and ask for the honor of dancing with the princess. I don’t mind, as it keeps Sebastian at bay, but my feet ache, and after keeping my thoughts and emotions hidden, I’m exhausted and ready for the night to end.

I lean against the table, taking the weight off my soles. People are just beginning to leave, and the crowd is thinning. I scan the hall and locate Sebastian propped against the wall, empty goblet in hand, talking to one of his knights.

Perfect.

I slink my way past the table, working to avoid Sebastian and Devlan, and make it to the archway before I hear my name called out. Hell. I turn, and Sebastian half-walks, half-stumbles toward me.

“You weren’t planning to return without a chaperone, were you?” he asks, somewhat slurred. “What kind of husband would I be to let you walk around without an escort?”

“Not a husband at all.” I cross my arms. “We’re not yet married.”

“Yes. But I am your man now.” He comes up close to me and extends his arm.

“As you wish, my lord.” I take his arm forcefully, causing him to lose balance for a moment and wobble. Hopefully he’s too intoxicated to notice if I slip away from him once we leave. “I simply want to retire for the evening.”

He bows his head to me. “As you wish, my love.”

“Please. Stop calling me that.” I tug on his arm, loosening his hold. “Between you and Sir Devlan, I’m going to forget my own name.”

As we exit the hall, I look around for Devlan, but he must have pursued the girl after all. I’m so curious over their situation that I don’t notice Sebastian’s hand roaming farther down my backside as we walk through the corridor. When it slips too low, I turn on him.

“Sebastian. Remember your manners.” An ache splinters the front of my head, and I rub my temple. “Why don’t you go back to the hall and find a young, willing maiden to bed? Your choices are endless.”

“Nay. I don’t want them.” His eyes are sultry and heavy-lidded. “They’re not you.”

The look he gives me is too convincing. I shake the unease away, reminding myself this engagement is a ploy, a setup for him to take the throne quicker. He merely drank too much and lust is polluting his senses.

I brush my hands along my gown, smoothing it and gaining my ground. “What happened to your patience?”

“It’s quickly waning the longer I watch your hands work over your body.”

My hands freeze, and I attempt to shrink into myself as his eyes roam over me.

He chuckles. “One thing my father didn’t consider when he chose this era,” he says, his eyes drinking me in, “was all the damn layers of clothing women have to wear.” He pushes himself up against me, and I bring my hands up against his chest as he backs me toward the wall. “It leaves too much to the imagination.” His hands cup my waist, his thumbs resting on my stomach, and I pull in a sharp breath. His eyes trail down my face to my chest. “But I must admit, I love what the corset does for your—”

I clamp my hand over his mouth. “Stop,” I say. “Or you’ll feel the palm of this hand against your face.”

He wraps his fingers around my wrist and pulls it slightly away from his mouth. His eyes close, and he runs his lips over my palm, slowly kissing, his warm breath caressing my hand.

His lips move from my hand to my wrist. “Sebastian, stop,” I order, but too low and too flat, with no conviction in my plea. I’ve never been in a compromising position with another, and he’s the prince. My mind races, sifting through scattered thoughts on how to stop his advance.

His other hand grasps my neck, his fingers securing themselves just below the bottom of my braid, and he continues to work his mouth up my arm until he’s wrapped it behind his neck. Then he tilts my head to the side as he thrusts his body against mine, forcing my back flat against the wall. Nausea churns like fire in my stomach, and I push harder against his chest.

His lips find the hollow of my throat, and he kisses his way along my jawline, his tongue slight against my skin. Panic constricts my airway, and my head lightens as my breaths come too fast.

I close my eyes against the spinning, and pinpricks cover my skin at the feel of his sloppy lips roaming, getting closer to my mouth.

“I must have you,” he says. His low voice brings me back, awakening my senses.

“Stop,” I say, but he continues his pursuit. Bracing my back against the wall, I steady my body and mind. With more force, I demand, “Stop!”

He pulls his head back a fraction, just enough to search my eyes, and a sly smile slides across his face. “That’s not what you want.”

I clear my throat, driving conviction into my tone. “Move away. Now, Sebastian. Or you’ll feel the brunt of my knee. And your era wardrobe leaves little to the imagination.” I widen my eyes so he can see the sincerity in them clearly. “My aim will be true.”

Without warning, he grabs both my thighs and hoists me up, anchoring me between him and the wall. “Well, I’ll simply have to keep the lower half of your body occupied also.” Then his mouth is on mine, hard and demanding.

His lips work, forcing mine apart as his tongue slides into my mouth. I’m stunned for a moment until the taste of alcohol and the roughness of his kiss—his teeth biting down on my lip—spur me into action. I pull at his hair. It doesn’t stop him, and I beat my fists against his shoulders.

Turning my head to the side, I gasp. “Stop. No!”

He cups my face and forces my eyes to meet his. A cruel glint shines in his golden irises as his eyes glaze over. “You’re mine.” I try to turn my face away again, but he snaps my head back into place, banging my head against the wall. “You belong to me.”

My insides shake, and my heart slams against my rib cage. Fear grips my body whole, paralyzing me. Suddenly, I hit the ground, landing wobbly on my feet, and support myself against the wall. I suck in a breath.

Devlan holds Sebastian by the arms, yanking him back. I palm the top of my bodice, trying to adjust the material that has slipped down, while keeping my heart from leaping out of my chest. The first knight’s eyes meet mine, and I stop breathing. Their blue is fierce and cold, and it chills my blood.

“Prince,” Devlan says, a deep boom in his voice. “I implore you, allow Princess Zara to retire for the evening.” He releases Sebastian and stands at attention. “I beg your forgiveness, Your Highness.” He bows quickly. “But you may regret your actions come morning.”

Sebastian’s eyes find mine, and he licks his bottom lip, tasting my blood on his mouth. He drops his head and sways. “You’re right, Devlan.” He coughs, clearing the strain from his voice. “My head is not clear.” He parts his lips to say something more, but instead, presses his lips into a hard line. He nods once, then walks away, stumbling down the corridor.

I swipe the back of my hand across my swollen lips. My arm trembles. I lower it, attempting to hide my fright from Devlan.

“Princess?” His eyes linger on me, their blue pools warming as they search my frame. “Are you—?”

“Yes,” I say quickly. “I’m fine. Thank you.” I push off the wall and turn away sharply, too embarrassed at having been caught in such a position to speak with him. I was so helpless. I clamp my eyes shut, stopping the burn from the unshed tears.

I start walking down the hallway, needing to be alone, and hear Devlan’s footfalls close behind.

Please, go away. “I can see myself to my chamber. Thank you again, Sir Devlan. I promise…I’m all right.” I tell him this over my shoulder, praying he leaves.

“I have no doubt you can see yourself there.” His voice gets closer. “But it’s still my duty, princess.”

My shoulders shake against my will, and I tremble as the adrenaline leaves my system. My legs feel too shaky to keep moving so I stop, letting myself feel weak for the moment. Suddenly furious at myself, I slam a clenched fist against the wall, and then lean my back against the hard stone.

Devlan steps up to me. His hand reaches out, but then he rests it on his hilt instead. “The prince was in an intoxicated frame of mind. It’s no excuse.” He grits his teeth; a muscle jumps in his jaw. “But he meant no harm. Are you injured?”

“Nay.” I harshly wipe the traitorous tear from my cheek. “Just my pride.” I lace my arms over my chest. “Being reminded of how helpless and weak you are is never received well. I’m a fool for—” I stop short before I let something slip about my plan to escape. He must believe I’ve abandoned my idea of running away.

It doesn’t matter what I say, though. Sebastian has proven that I won’t get far if I take off on my own. How am I going to escape all of the Force when they come for me? My father raised me with nurturing and books and discussion. How will any of that help when I need to be fearless and brave, strong and able to defend myself?

I scuff my slipper against the stone floor, unwilling to meet Devlan’s eyes. He doesn’t know what it’s like to be a girl in Karm, and I don’t need his pity.

He exhales heavily as he sidles up beside me. Taking my chin between his finger and thumb, he lifts my face. I angle my head all the way back in order to meet his pale eyes as he looks down on me. “You are not helpless. Nor are you weak.” He releases my face, but I continue looking into his. He’s so close I can see the dark shadow of facial hair scattered along his jaw. Feel the warmth of his breath across my skin.

“I don’t feel otherwise.” I bite my bottom lip.

He holds my gaze. His lips part and he shifts his stance. A small groan rumbles in his throat, but he chokes off the noise.

Wonderful. I’ve now made the first knight uncomfortable, too. I take a step back and wave off my confession. “I meant…I’d just like to be able to beat back drunken buffoons from slathering me with sloppy kisses.”

Relief floods me when Devlan’s lips quirk up at one side. “Was it your first?” He tilts his head, studying me. “Is that part of the reason you’re upset?”

My mouth falls open, and I regret giving him this opening. “Nay.” I hear the lie in my voice. “Nay. I should simply know how to defend myself. That is all.”

His eyes are hard on me, his brow pinched in thought. “And if you were given the chance to learn?” His eyes, unblinking, hold mine. “Would you meet that challenge?”

“I would,” I say. Then with more assertion, “Are you offering to teach me, Devlan?”

For a second, he looks as if he’ll agree. His eyes are still on me, gauging me, sizing up my response. He takes a step back, wary. “Nay. But there are archery lessons offered to maidens, and, in a sense, it’s a way to become more proficient in certain skills.” He looks down the hallway, away from me. “I’m sure the prince would approve if you were interested.”

I roll my eyes. “I don’t need his approval, but I’d like to learn something more than archery.” I ball my fist. “How to punch, mayhap.”

This elicits a small smile from him, but he keeps his eyes trained on something farther down the corridor. “Good night, princess.” He steps closer and looks down at me. “Remember this,” he says in a low, husky voice. “It doesn’t count if it’s unwanted.” His eyes flicker, the torches’ flames dancing in his light irises. I wish to deny his claim about the kiss, but something in his tone rings so true it holds me captive. “You can still bestow the gift of your kiss whenever you choose, to whom you choose.” He steps back and bows. When he rises, he squares his shoulders. “And remember. It’s Sir Devlan when in the presence of others.”

Before I can respond, he spins and takes off down the hallway. I watch, motionless, as he leaves, his words echoing in my mind.

I can choose.

Choice. A foreign word in our society, yet it rolled off his tongue so easily, and without regard for his prince. He’d also given me permission to address him with familiarity, after my blunder, of course. I run my fingers over my now-cool lips, puzzled.

I shake myself from my trance and turn to my chamber, realizing he’s allowed me the rest of the walk by myself. I smile. Glancing over my shoulder, I see him near a pillar, communicator to his ear. He doesn’t respond to whoever is talking. He only drops the device into his vest pocket and marches quickly away.

Part of me wants to follow after him, find out what could make the first knight rush off at such a pace. Considering his strange behavior at the betrothal, I’m growing more curious regarding the brooding knight. Another part wants to bury myself under covers and forget this night. My exhaustion wins out, and I slog to my room.

I close the heavy wooden door behind me and begin unlacing the back of my dress. Luckily, it’s not one that needs the assistance of another to remove. I suppose, like wedding dresses, it’s meant to easily disrobe from.

A sickness bites my stomach, and I shake the thought from my head. Once my gown is removed, I immediately go to loosen the strap of my leather sheath and freeze. I’m alarmed for a moment until I remember it’s hidden between the mattresses.

What if I’d been stupid enough to wear it tonight? Sebastian had been more forward than I ever thought possible. His hand had been in the very spot where I keep it. Panic squeezes my chest. Now that we’re betrothed, he may try to take more liberties. I’ll have to be more careful.

My father’s outlawed dagger is the only thing connecting me to him, and the only thing that wards off my feelings of weakness, the ones Sebastian made me feel so prominently tonight.

A fresh set of tears brims in my eyes, and I close them, feeling the warmth trail down my cheeks. I only wish my father would have trained me to use the dagger. I’d have a better chance out there on my own if I had a different skill set. Hunting, fighting, anything to protect myself.

I won’t allow fear to deter me from my goal. Finding a way past the wall and a place of my own, wherever I must, is better than being a prisoner. My father preached as much as I grew up. Even if he, himself, stuck to most of the laws, he knew that being ruled by King Hart and living within this façade was wrong.

All these thoughts exhaust me further, and I climb into bed still wearing my undergarments, without changing into my nightgown. Before I lie down, the heart-shaped betrothal gift slips over my skin, its chilled silver causing my chest to ache.

Sebastian more than staked his claim on me as he arrogantly admitted that I belong to him now. A burning rises in my chest, and I clutch the locket. I yank it from my neck and hurl it to the floor.

I belong to no one.

NINE

Breakfast is awkward the next morning. Sebastian won’t meet my eyes, and he continually kneads his temples, likely trying to massage away the headache from his hangover.

I attempted to feign a headache of my own this morning, claiming the betrothal and celebration had taxed me. I pleaded with Madity to let me rest in my chamber all day. After tending to the cuts on my hands, she so worried that she threatened to call the castle physician. That was enough to get me out of bed.

Now I question my choice, the idea that facing Sebastian would be better than being probed. As I sit across from him, I remember the fierce glint in his eyes as he forced me to look into them, and I grip my fork. The hard metal cuts into my palm.

I must find a way to move past this. My behavior toward him last night was wretched, true, but it was undeserving of my being treated like a whore. I inhale deeply. I must forgive his actions, if only because he’s given me a new purpose. Something more than just becoming stronger and learning to use my dagger: become self-sufficient.

Sebastian’s hand shakes as he lifts his glass of water. “I will never drink again.”

Looking down at my plate, I lower my fork, forcing my hand to release its death grip.

“Zara,” he says, and I meet his eyes. “Can you forgive…?” He trails off. His eyes fall to the table. “I apologize for my behavior last night.”

I wonder if I should let him simmer in his shame a little longer, but I have more important things for the day. I need to work this to my advantage. “I forgive you, Sebastian. It was not you, but the wine.” I smile, my lips twitching. “Only, do not think I’ll be so agreeable the next time you decide to drink Karm dry of alcohol.”

His lips curl into a small smile. “Then you are not angry with me?”

I force my smile wider. “I—” Damn. I’m still enraged, and I can feel his firm lips forcing a kiss on me. My first one. I close my eyes, take in a cleansing breath, and Devlan’s words come back to me. It doesn’t count.

“I’m not very angry anymore,” I say. “But don’t assume this means you are welcome to whatever you please.” I glare at him. Sebastian’s words from last night hit me like a punch. You’re mine. I shake my head, clearing the disturbing memory. “Now. What are your plans for the day?”

He’s taken back by my sudden change of topic, and his brow shoots up. “I haven’t gotten further than working up my apology to you, to be honest.” He reaches across the table and takes my hand. “Let me make it up to you. I’ll postpone my joust practice until the morrow. We can do anything you’d like today.”

Apologetic Sebastian is very different from Vain and Disturbing Sebastian. Is it an act? Or is his hangover so miserable it’s taken him off his game? I think for a moment, calculating the order in which I need to work my plan.

“All right.” I smile brightly. Let’s see how far I can push this. “I want to learn how to ride a horse.”

His features fall, and I’m sure he’s going to deny my request. But then he smiles and says, “Done.”

“Really?”

“Of course. As a matter of fact, Devlan mentioned this morning you were interested in learning to ride.” He glances at his first knight for affirmation, and Devlan nods once. “I was considering it,” he pauses to laugh, “just not today, since my head feels like it’s been used as a practice target for the joust.” His gaze works over my face. “But I want you happy. If riding will do so, I feel I have no choice but to suffer through the pain.”

I smile, preparing to speak my next words nonchalantly. “Devlan mentioned a stable hand. Jericho, I believe. I’m fine learning from him today if you’re too unwell.”

He eyes me curiously. “I endeavor to make this up to you. And there’s no better rider than me, Zara. You will be well acquainted with riding before the day’s end.”

I nod. Though I’d rather not spend an entire day with him, I believe he’s undoubtedly a good rider. Also, I want to learn quickly. Once I have horseback riding conquered, I can move on to archery, and then to learning important skills I suspect Madity has, and lastly, studying how the knights train. That one will be easily enough obtained while I attend the practice tourneys for the tournament.

“Your aching head shall be your punishment, then,” I say. “Let it be a reminder for the next time you consider drinking yourself into oblivion.”

He laughs and brings my hand to his lips, kissing it softly. “It couldn’t have been all that bad.” His voice drops to a whisper. “Surely, the thought of my lips on yours is not the worst thing you can imagine.”

My stomach sinks, and the memory of his lips trailing over my skin causes my face to heat. “Sebastian.” I say his name as a warning.

He releases my hand. “Right.” He clears his throat. “Call on your maid. You’ll need to change your gown.”

I scrunch my brow. “Into what?”

All I have are dresses. The tunics I brought from the farm have disappeared. It’s not as if I can wear hose or trousers like a man, though I’d gladly trade my embroidered gowns for them any day.

“You’ll need a simple dress. Something you don’t mind being ruined if you should fall.”

“Fall?” The thought hadn’t occurred to me. “Are you so poor a teacher that I’m in danger of falling?”

His eyes darken. I shrink back, regretting my outburst, but his bothered expression is quickly replaced by a bright smile. “I promise, no harm will come to you.” He rises from his seat and looks down at me. “But,” he says, a devious smile creeping onto his face, “plan on getting a bit dirty, my love. I ride hard.”

* * *

Madity changes me into a plain brown, full-length tunic. It’s more comfortable than my gowns and reminds me of what I used to wear every day back at my father’s farm. I sigh, thinking that even though I’ve only spent a few days stuck behind these walls, it feels like a lifetime.

I hike up the hem of my dress and hurry toward the stable, determination marching my feet forward. Learning to ride is one step closer to freedom. I still have nearly two months before the wedding in which to learn, but I want to be free from here as soon as possible. Even if that means living in the outskirts of Karm.

The only thing that hinders my plan is the damned wall surrounding Court. There has to be a way past it. It’s not as if I can simply walk through the electrified gate. The rare moments when it’s powered down and open, guards are posted in the gatehouse towers. I’d consider climbing the wall, but it’s as high as a small mountain. Even if I found a useful device to get me over, I’d be spotted. Tunneling under it seems logical. But how long would that take me? I’d be caught surely.

There has to be a way.

But once I make it out, then what? I wish I had a place prepared, but there’s not enough time to gain Sebastian’s trust in order to leave Court and arrange one. Even if I did have more time, where would I go? The best I can hope for is finding an abandoned cottage tucked away in the forest. My father took me to the woods often, and I felt safe playing in them as a girl. It will be like I’m close to him again.

Devlan walks behind me as usual. He’s not said much since breakfast, but I’m getting used to him tagging along. It still irks me that he follows behind like a damned servant, but battling formalities is the least of my worries today.

With each step toward the stable, I’m getting closer to breaking free.

Sebastian is already atop his gorgeous white horse, and he canters her around the fenced-in area surrounding the stable. His blond hair shimmers in the bright noon sun, and his back is set straight, looking like he has ridden every day of his life.

I climb the bottom post and rest my stomach against the top rail, then lean over and stretch my hand out to greet Hawken as she’s strutted over. “Hey there, girl.” I pet the velvety hair between her nostrils, then turn my palm up so she can scent me.

Sebastian dismounts and hops easily over the fence. “Ready?” Without waiting for my reply, he grasps my waist and hoists me up and over the top of the fence, seating me on the rail.

I teeter, gripping the wood for balance, while he climbs over to the other side. “Here.” He takes me by the waist again and slowly lowers me to the ground. His hands linger, keeping me close, and I push against his chest to back him away.

Whatever his mind is entertaining, I won’t allow him to use teaching me to ride for his games. I’ll remind him with every movement that I do not belong to him.

While Sebastian adjusts the saddle, my eyes inadvertently seek Devlan. He leans leisurely against the fence, his forearms draped over the wood beam, and stares at the ground. He doesn’t speak much most of the time, but when Sebastian is near, he’s even quieter. I wonder if that’s what’s expected of his station. Today, he’s downright mute. Maybe he was reprimanded for coming to my aid last night after all.

“Zara,” Sebastian calls, gaining my attention. “Let’s begin your lesson, shall we?”

I nod, but suddenly I’m not as brave when he takes my hand and guides me to the horse. She’s beautiful from a distance, and even when petting her. Standing next to her now, the mere size of the horse makes my stomach queasy.

“Trust me.” With a wink, Sebastian steps into the stirrup and mounts his horse.

I take in a calming breath as he extends his hand. “Jump as I pull,” he instructs. I do. He slings me onto the back of Hawken and I nearly fall off the other side. “Whoa.” He reaches his other arm around and catches me as Hawken shifts her weight beneath us. “Mayhap, less jump next time.”

“Or less pull,” I grumble.

He huffs. “Does everything have to be an argument?” He shakes his head. “How am I to teach you if you combat everything I say?”

Good point. I swallow my pride. “Fine.” Sitting sidesaddle, I look around at my position, and cross my ankles as instructed. Luckily, I planned ahead and strapped my dagger to my inner thigh, so it’s not gouging me during the ride. “Where do I place my hands?”

He chuckles. “Oh, that’s a loaded question.”

“Sebastian,” I say, my warning clear.

“Place them here.” He grabs my wrists and wraps my arms around his waist, resting my hands on his taut stomach. His thumb grazes the back of my hand, but he says nothing about the fading cuts.

He kicks his heels, urging Hawken into a trot. I tighten my hold and scoot closer to him. The bounce under my bottom makes me nervous as I slide around on the saddle, and I’m even more grateful that I situated my dagger beforehand.

I quickly slip a hand in my tunic pocket and discretely feel for the communicator Devlan gave me, before anchoring my arms back around Sebastian.

As we pass Devlan, Sebastian says, “I’m taking Zara out. Tell the kitchen to hold supper until we return.”

I look at Devlan, expecting him to insist we need him with us. His face is still downcast, his eyes trained on the ground. He only nods, then turns and heads toward the castle. Panic trails its finger down my spine. I had assumed Devlan would ride along. I don’t want to be anywhere alone with Sebastian.

Pushing my unease into the pit of my stomach, I focus my attention on staying seated on the horse. I will not allow the prince to intimidate me. “Where are we going?”

“We can’t go into town. Not without our guards accompanying us. But I can take you somewhere just outside Court. Somewhere that might show you what life can be like here if you…” He trails off.

“If I what?” I press.

“If you would just give me—give it—a chance.”

He quickly corrected his statement, but his message was clear. This venture out is not to convince me to enjoy castle life. It’s to sway me to give in to his affections. I curse myself for not making it a point to wait for the stable hand.

This is a mistake.

“You might want to hold me tighter, my love.” I can hear the smile in his voice. I stiffen my back, angered that I allowed myself into this situation, but I do as he says when he kicks her sides and Hawken breaks into a canter.

The wind blows my hair back, and the heavy thud of Hawken’s hooves hitting the ground rings through my chest, a drumming that matches the rhythm of her strides. I latch my hands together, squeezing his waist so firmly I’m probably hurting him, but he says nothing. Not that I could hear him over the whistling in my ears or the pounding of the horse’s hooves.

We ride hard and fast for a short while, and soon I’m lost in the sensation—the feeling of freedom the speed brings. When we slow, the sound of the woods is muffled in my ears, the crickets’ buzz a distant noise. A low trickling echoes against the trees, and a winding brook comes into view. We’re right up on the stone wall, and the treetops of the dense forest beyond peek over its top.

Sebastian leans back, pulling the reins, and Hawken whinnies and comes to a stop. “Whoa,” he says. “Good girl. Good girl.” He unclasps my hands from around his stomach. They’ve been locked together so tightly I can’t feel my fingers.

He reaches behind and offers me his hand. I take it, and he helps me balance and slide sideways off the horse. As my feet hit the ground, I immediately stumble. “Oh, God,” I say. I can’t feel my butt. Or the back of my thighs.

After he dismounts, he laughs and places his arm around my waist, steadying me. “I forgot. The first time you might be a little numb.”

Despite myself, I laugh. “Just a little.” I shake out my legs one at a time. I’m so elated from the experience that I don’t immediately notice his arm still around me. I pull away, wary of why we’ve stopped. A sickness settles in the pit of my stomach. “Am I to learn here? Where are we?”

Sebastian releases me completely and walks Hawken to a tree where he loops the reins loosely over a branch, then motions for me to follow him. Cautiously, I match his steps, though my legs are still unsteady.

He heads toward the wall. “Follow close.”

My limbs shake as I move slowly. I press my hand to my chest and feel the communicator beneath my palm.

How long would it take Devlan to get here?

A tiny, snaking brook runs underneath the wall, and as we get closer, I see where the stone has crumbled into the water, creating a passage. My heart leaps. I glance at Sebastian nervously. He’s revealing a way out. An escape route—my escape route. Is he aware of what he’s doing?

Sebastian pushes the overgrowth aside, revealing the passage fully. It’s larger than it first appeared. We step along the stones jutting from the top of the brook as we pass through the jagged opening. As I clear the hole, I note that it would be only slightly difficult to bring a horse through, but not impossible.

On the other side of the wall, the forest is thick and bathed in light from the high sun, creating an enchanted feel. The brook widens into a stream as it stretches deeper into the forest. Birds tweet in the braches above, adding a hollow, sharp echo that cracks against the thick pines.

“I used to come here as a boy,” Sebastian says, breaking the secluded spell. “It’s my favorite place in all of Karm.”

It is beautiful. The sun splinters through the treetops, scattering sparkles over the tiny stream, and large, dark boulders decorate its bank. As we continue to walk along the edge of the water, a small clearing opens up around us. Two logs are seated near each other, turned up to use as seats.

Why has he shown me the hole in the wall? Is he so confident in himself, so assured in his charms, that he doesn’t even question whether I’d run? Then I remember the Eyes. This place must be monitored. He wouldn’t give away a secret like this.

I stare at the empty seats, my curiosity piqued. “Who comes here with you?”

Sebastian picks up a rock and settles on a log. “No one,” he says. “Not now.” He chucks the rock into the stream.

I widen my eyes, suddenly interested. Smoothing the back of my tunic, I sit next to him on the other log. “All right,” I say. “Who used to come here with you?”

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he stares out over the water, his eyes far away. Then he says, “Devlan.”

“Devlan?” My voice rises in surprise. “Your first knight?”

“When we were just kids.” He smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “We used to fish and wander the woods. At least until my father declared it time for me to accept my princely duties and learn how to rule Karm.”

“So how then…” I shake my head. “I’m lost, Sebastian. Did you make Devlan the knight commander because he was your closest childhood friend?” If so, that explains how Devlan reached a high-ranking station at such a young age, and why he seems to be able to do things another knight would be punished for. Like yanking a prince off his betrothed, when no other would think twice about his prince’s actions.

“Not quite.” He blows air through his lips heavily. “Devlan lost—” He breaks off, looking around as if someone might be listening. He lowers his voice. “His parents were taken by the Virus when he was very young, just as my mother was taken from me. He was going to live in an orphanage, and I spotted him while members of the Force were putting him away in the prison carriage. Just a boy, like me, and I pleaded with my father to let him live in the castle.”

He looks back toward the stream. “I didn’t have any siblings and was not permitted to attend public classes, and he had no one else, either.” He shrugs. “We became fast friends. He worked in the stable and slept in the servants’ quarters. I was tutored early in the day and stayed in the opposite wing of the castle. But we were like brothers the rest of the time.” He smiles. “We tended to get into trouble quite often.”

I follow his gaze, wondering if he truly felt bad for Devlan, or simply wanted a playmate, and why he’s chosen to bring me here now. Regardless, I can’t help wanting to know more about the quiet, brooding knight.

After a moment, Sebastian continues. “When we were sixteen, my father professed that I had to start my ascension toward becoming king, and that it was time for Devlan to find employment beyond the castle.” He looks at his hands, runs his finger over the crest of his ring. “My father feels relationships weaken a king.” His eyes find mine. “So, honoring my father’s wishes, I sent Devlan away and treated him like a servant whenever we crossed paths. I have to become King. There’s no other person to take my father’s place. I don’t have another option.” He looks away from me, back to the water. “This is my duty.”

Duty. That word again. I’m starting to wonder if it means the same to men as it does to women. “Then how did he become your first knight?”

He shrugs one shoulder. “After a few years, he came back, training to become a knight.” He laughs. “He was so determined. I remember watching him, wondering how he’d come to the decision. It was never anything he talked about when he was younger.” He stands and walks toward the bank. “We didn’t speak. Our falling out has obviously put a rift between us that’s impossible to mend. But it proved to my father I could make hard decisions. And when I chose Devlan as my commander, my father only questioned me slightly.”

“Why did you choose him?”

He turns and looks at me. “I’d like to say it was because he was the best knight. I mean, he is good, though his age is against him. But, I believe there’s a part of me that’s still weak. Wanting to repair the damage I’d caused between us, and…” He folds his arms over his chest. “Mayhap to have my friend back.”

I stand and join him near the water. The river rushes past the rocks, and the spray bounces off them. The mist chills my skin. “But he’s not your friend, though,” I say quietly, questioningly. “Not anymore.”

“No.” He dips his head quickly, then looks at me again. “Not in the same sense. At the time I advanced Devlan’s rank, my father told me I’d regret my choice. That I was foolish and needed to sever the side of me that makes me weak.” He laughs hollowly. His face darkens, and his brows pull together. “But, do our emotions and our feelings for others truly weaken us? Can’t they make us stronger?”

I look away from him, unable to answer this for him as I don’t have the answer for myself. “I don’t know,” I admit. “I was not raised to be a queen, nor do I know what it takes to rule, Sebastian.”

“I wonder this about myself some days.” He sighs. “Whether I have what it takes.” He steps closer, and my eyes find his again. “When you ran into the arcade and I saw the flame in your eyes—your action roused questions I buried long ago.”

My breath slips past my lips. “What questions?”

“Whether or not I can rule this realm more efficiently than my father without instilling fear. Can I change how it’s governed…and if I don’t, will I lose that which makes me human?” He bows his head, but not before I see his golden eyes darken.

After his admission, we’re both quiet. The trickle of the stream echoes around us, and the crickets have faded into a low hum, distant and haunting. “Why have you revealed all this to me?”

He turns and takes my hands in his. “You asked me why I chose you.” I nod once, hoping I’ll finally learn the answer. He takes a breath. “I’ve known you, Zara. Before I announced I’d chosen you during the transmission, even before it was known that I was to become betrothed, I knew you.” He leans in close to me. His arms touch mine. “I saw you on a monitor for the first time months ago. When I was being taught about Karm, and how I must know all that is going on in my kingdom, I saw you.”

The air in my lungs freezes and I can’t breathe. I fight to gasp air into my windpipe. Finally, I find my voice. “You spied on me?”

His face waxes over in panic. “No.” He shakes his head. “No. God. I only saw you passing through the streets of Town Square whenever you went.”

I release a strained breath. “That wasn’t very often.”

“It was enough.” He smiles. “You were beautiful, but it was more than that. The way you walked, carried yourself. Sure, but unsure. So quiet, yet you spoke volumes with only one look.” His eyes settle on my face. “There’s a silent strength in you. A strength I wish to possess for myself.”

Glancing away, I look at the river, not sure how to respond. What he saw on that monitor was not strength. It was a scared girl keeping to herself—frightened she’d be arrested by the Force. A girl hiding medicines in her basket. A girl only trying to save her sick father.

Sebastian presses on. “And my father knew. He knew.” He chuckles. “But I was too terrified to admit it for fear he’d order me to be with another, so that my feelings wouldn’t make me weak in his eyes.”

“Sebastian.” I whisper his name, unable to say more.

“I know.” He drops his head. “I’m really just a fool. My best friend, who I can’t even talk to, acting as my first knight. And the girl I fell for forced into a betrothal at the last minute. All because I can’t lose face in front of the king.”

My chest aches. I’d thought Sebastian had chosen me on a whim—that he simply wanted to become King quickly. “But if King Hart fears you’re making a rash choice,” I say, “how is it that I’m here now?”

“I refused to accept the throne.” He presses his lips into a firm line and creases his forehead. “I told the king I could not rule without at least having a chance at happiness. He instructed me to take you. To make my choice and be done with it.” His eyes scan my face. “I’d proven to him that I could be strong when I’d ended my friendship with Devlan, but I couldn’t keep myself from you, Zara. So, he caved on this one stipulation for me to take the crown.” He pauses. “I believe he took pity on me.”

Fear envelops my core. Icy fingers worm their way down my spine, and I shiver. Pity? I’ve heard many things about King Hart, pity never being one of them. But as I stare at Sebastian—open and vulnerable—I consider the possibility that a father, even one as frightening as King Hart, could find it within himself to grant his son what he wants of happiness.

Another, chilling thought spikes my blood. What Sebastian wants is me. If King Hart has agreed to Sebastian’s condition to rule the kingdom, my imprisonment is King Hart’s doing. I’m an ultimatum, a token of peace between them. King Hart will keep me here at all costs to ensure his only son takes the throne after him.

More so than Sebastian’s, I’m King Hart’s possession.

And I’m not going anywhere.

TEN

Sebastian guides me to the bank, settling us near the water. “I noticed you weren’t wearing my commitment gift today.”

My hand goes to my chest, my palm flat against my skin. Damn. I’d forgotten to pick it up off the floor this morning. Did Madity find it? Where is it now? Showing that kind of disrespect toward the prince surely won’t go unpunished. My hand shakes as I lower it to my lap.

I attempt to stutter out a response. Before any words pass my lips, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out the silver locket, dangling it before me.

My breath halts in my chest.

“Your maid found it this morning. She said the clasp had broken and that it must have slipped off during the night.” His eyes search mine as his fingers work the clasp. “I had it repaired.”

“Yes—thank you. I was going to have it fixed.” I plan to hug Madity the next time I see her.

He nods, but his eyes squint, conveying his disbelief. His lips tighten into a forced smile. “Zara, I know all this is not easy for you. Everything that has happened to you these past few days must be difficult. But, please allow me the chance to prove my affections for you are true.”

I swallow hard, and an aching lump catches in my throat. After everything he’s confessed, I can’t lead him to believe I’ll ever reciprocate his feelings. He’s battling internal demons over his rule of the kingdom. Even if one day my feeling could change, for now, I can’t add to that confusion. “Sebastian, I would like us to be friends.”

“Friends.” He spits the word as if it’s foul.

“Yes.” I force my shoulders back, gaining courage. “You don’t truly know me, and I don’t know you at all. Marriage arrangements may work this way for the era, but we don’t have to abide by them.” I suck in a breath. “We can be friends instead.”

His eyes travel over my features, and he bites down on his bottom lip. I become nervous that I’ve gone too far, until he says, “For now, Zara.”

My mouth parts. What was I expecting him to do? Call off the betrothal? Open the gate and allow me to walk out? He’s the prince and used to getting his way. I’m back to either convincing him that he doesn’t want to wed me or seeing my escape plan through.

“Come.” He jars me from my strained thoughts, handing me the necklace and helping me to my feet. “We have little time for your lesson if we want to make it back before your maid sends out a search party.” He laughs, and like that, his voice is frivolous and light. Though now, knowing all that I know, I can hear the hesitancy in it, too, the concern that I may never return his feelings.

I turn, my hand clutching the silver locket, my mouth opening to say what I must. “Sebastian.”

He stops but doesn’t face me. “You don’t have to say anything,” he says. “Just…just give us time. Before you decide to loathe me forever.”

I clamp my mouth shut. I don’t know how I was going to convince him that I can’t be here. That I don’t belong. That even though he believes he has these feelings for me, he can’t possibly.

I don’t know for sure if he’s his own man or the king’s son—and the answer to that determines everything.

So I let it stand. No more words between us. At the very least, I can let him salvage some dignity after baring his soul as he did. It can’t be easy for a man raised to be a king to admit the things he did. Not in this era, and especially not one brought up by King Hart.

After we’re on the other side of the wall, Sebastian unties Hawken and steps into the stirrup, then climbs atop. He lowers his hand to me and I take it, easily mounting the horse with his help this time.

He cocks his head to the side, saying over his shoulder, “Lend me your arm.”

“Why?”

He releases a tense breath. “I see we’re back to questioning everything.” He shakes his head. “Just…here.” He reaches back and takes my arm, then pulls me to the side where he can grasp me fully around the waist.

“What are you—” My sentence is cut short as he hauls me to the front of the saddle, turning me to face the front. “Oh.”

“You can’t learn to ride from the back,” he says. “Now, take the reins.” He places them between my palms and I grip them, my hands clammy. “Hold on tightly. But not so tightly you can’t adjust them if you need to.”

I hastily nod my head, my spirits soaring. I’m learning to ride. “How do I know when to adjust them? And what does that mean?”

His arms reach around me and he rests his hands over mine. “Like this,” he says, positioning my fingers into the correct hold. “Now lightly press your heels into her side.” I do, and Hawken snorts and trots forward. “Let’s keep her at a steady pace.”

We alternate walking and trotting for about half a mile over the grassy plain just outside of the forest. I’m getting a feel for how the horse moves. Though we travel at a slow pace, I can feel the power in her stride. I’m tempted to give her a kick and gallop her—feel the wind sweep over my face and break away, farther from the court grounds. It’s electrifying.

“You ready to really ride?” Sebastian asks.

I am. My insides dance and quiver. I’m nervous, but I want the rush. “Yes.”

He laughs and takes my hands in his, then kicks his heels, leaning us forward. Hawken takes off and panic spurs my chest. Soon we’re moving so fast I don’t have time to think. The world comes at me in patches of green and blue as we bound across the plain. Sheer adrenaline pours through me, and I laugh out loud.

After we switch gaits, circling the plain a few more times, the sun begins to dip below the trees. Sebastian takes the reins and heads us back toward the castle. My elation ends, my stomach plummets. For a moment out here, with the wind in my face and open fields all around, I actually forgot where I was.

Now, I remember I have to go back.

As we ride up to the stable fence, Devlan opens the gate for us. A mixture of emotions passes through me, though I’m not sure I can pinpoint what they are. Sadness, regret for the loss of his parents. Admiration for his determination to become a knight, regardless of his treatment from Sebastian. Curiosity for who he really is, and why he came back here.

None of these are things I can ask him without revealing what Sebastian told me, and I feel that what is between them is private.

We sidle up next to the stable entrance and Devlan strides over to meet us. “The princess’ maid has been in an uproar that she’s been injured or lost.”

Sebastian laughs. “Well, the princess is back and in one piece. Her maid can relax.” I scoot forward so he has room to swing his leg over and dismount. He gives me a wink, then turns toward the glass door. My breath hitches as he inserts his key, and from my perch atop the horse, I see him enter his code: 2016.

The first year of the Final War.

Devlan extends his hand to me, his face drawn. “I had best deliver you to Maid Madity before she threatens to remove my limbs again.”

I accept his outstretched hand, attempting to rein in the smug smile that wants to overtake my face at having found out Sebastian’s code. I bounce off the horse, landing on my feet, which is quite different from the way Sebastian helped me down. As if Devlan’s trying to touch me as little as possible. Jumping off the horse isn’t as bad as I thought. I decide I can do it by myself from now on.

As he releases my hand, I wince. “Ow.”

“What?” Devlan says. “Are you hurt? What hap—” He stops short and eyes Sebastian.

I look between them, surprised at Devlan’s brash outburst. “Nay, I’m fine,” I say quickly, drawing their eyes to me. “My hands are just rubbed raw from the reins.” I press them together and they throb, hot and aching.

Sebastian takes my hands, turning them palm up. Bright red skin covers my palms and fingers. “Madity can fix a solution that will help.”

I nod, and Devlan takes one of my hands out of Sebastian’s grasp. He stares at the red flesh. “I’ve worked with horses a long time,” he says, not looking up. “I know something that will keep them from blistering.” He drops my hand as he looks at Sebastian. “With your permission, of course, Your Highness”

“Of course, Devlan,” Sebastian says. “See that Zara is taken care of.” He looks at me. “The lessons can wait until you’ve healed.”

My lips parts. “I’m fine. Honestly. I wish to continue my lessons.” My voice sounds more pleading than I’d like.

Sebastian grunts, a low rumble in his throat. “It could end up causing an open wound and becoming infected.” He eyes me. “We’ll wait till you’re better.”

“Come, princess,” Devlan says before I can argue further. “The prince is right.”

My shoulders slump, and even though I want to ensure that I’ll be training on the morrow, I follow behind Devlan as he walks away. I won’t win this right now.

Once we’re outside the fence, Devlan closes the gate and waits patiently for me to walk ahead of him. This time, I do so without debate. I don’t know why he’s chosen to be a knight, but my complaints about being treated like a princess now feel petty, at least compared to what I’m sure he’s dealt with over the years on his own, here at Court.

“Where am I going?” I ask as I wander toward the castle.

He walks up beside me. “The training grounds. There are salves and ointments the knights use during training.” He points behind the castle and off to the left. “Your hands will callous over in time.”

I huff. “But not overnight.”

His head darts in my direction. “Nay. Not overnight, princess.” His gaze bores into me, and I nearly stumble as I lock eyes with him.

Regaining my balance, I return to watching the ground. I can feel that either the ride or the dismount has worked my dagger around toward the back of my thigh. I’m through with my lessons for the day, though. It shouldn’t cause me any bother.

We don’t talk again until we reach the green tent. It sits at the far end of the grounds, past makeshift risers and a two-foot high, bricked-in showground. He holds back the flap for me and I walk inside. Large metal weapon cases decorate the sides of the tent, and tables topped with swords and armor clutter the open area. I’ve never seen so many weapons. Ever. The fact that they’re not permitted in Karm, at least not in the hands of regular citizens, and they’re so abundant here, causes me to shudder.

“It’s overwhelming,” Devlan says. “I know. When I first saw the armory, I couldn’t believe all the weapons were right out in the open.”

I glance around. “How is it possible?”

He walks toward one of the metal sword racks and unlatches the keychain from inside his vest, then unlocks the door. After pulling out one of the heavy-looking swords, he walks back over to me. “Here.” He holds the blade out, aimed toward the ground. “Run your finger over the edge.”

I mock-laugh. “I don’t think so.”

Devlan’s lips turn up on one side. Gently taking one of my injured hands, he looks into my eyes. “Trust me.” He runs my finger along the blade’s edge.

“No,” I snap, but soon realize I’m not cut. I choke out a strained laugh. “It’s dull.”

“We’re not to train with actual swords.” He walks back to the metal case. “And these are used in the tournaments. Except for the last tourneys, when the stakes are raised.”

He rummages through a cabinet and stalks back over with a glass jar full of some clear, wiggly liquid. Setting it down on a large wooden table, he motions me over with a cock of his head.

“I can take care of it,” I tell him, reaching for the salve.

“No.” He takes my hands in his, guiding me toward a bucket below the table. I lower into a hunch as he dunks our hands in freezing water. “You have to cleanse first. But never with soap.” He turns his head to look over at me. “Soap will dry it out and cause the skin to tear.”

I flinch and try to ignore the stinging pain in my hands. As Devlan watches my face closely, his dark hair falls over one eye. I’m tempted to push it aside. He lifts my hands out and towels them off. I turn my hands palm up, waiting for the salve. Devlan only stares at me.

“What?” I ask.

He pats the table. “Hop up, princess.” When I raise an eyebrow questioningly, he explains, “So I can see your hands. Your stature makes it difficult to inspect them clearly in the dim light.”

My face flushes. “Is my height really that bothersome?” I step to the table, press my hands to the wood to lift myself up, and immediately wince.

“You’re going to have to work around your height limitations, princess.” He grasps my waist and lifts me onto the table.

I try to avoid his eyes, but his face is right before mine. He places his palms on the table, on either side of my legs, tilts his head, and studies me.

I shrug. “How was I supposed to get up here?” I say. “Magically levitate?” My joke gets no reaction from him. Not so much as a muscle twitch. His eyes continue to study my face. His stare is cold and hard, off-putting.

Finally, his eyes move from me to the jar. He unlatches the top and scoops the salve into his hand. “You have to think about every angle, every position, every way something can be done before the time to do it arrives.” He unfolds my hands, lightly running his thumb over the inflamed skin, then applies the ointment. It’s cold and greasy, but it immediately soothes, dousing the burning sensation.

“Why are you telling me this?” I keep my eyes trained on our hands—focus on the feel of his rough palms working the salve into mine.

He releases a heavy breath. “Because, it’s the first thing you need to learn before anything else. Even before riding a horse.” He takes my other hand and begins to treat it. “Be aware of your surroundings. Know what is around you and how to use it and your body in every situation. Even something as simple as getting atop a table.”

“Sebastian didn’t mention that while training me to ride today.” Peeking at him through my lashes, I gauge his reaction to Sebastian’s name. “Wouldn’t that be something a prince would know?”

“Princess, if things were handed to you all your life, and you never doubted they would continue to be, would you question how to attain them?”

“Nay,” I answer simply. “I suppose not.”

He bends down, grabs something from under the table, and comes back up with gauze. He wraps my hands thickly, one at a time, binding them tightly. “You seem unable to keep your hands in good condition.”

I attempt to ball my fists, but can barely move my fingers. “How am I to eat, or do anything else for that matter?”

He packs away the supplies. “You can remove the gauze tomorrow morning. The swelling should be gone by then.”

I quirk an eyebrow at his strange word for the morrow, but tuck it away. Tomorrow. I like it. “Thank you.” I watch him saunter across the tent. “Devlan?”

“Yes, princess?”

“Will I be able to ride by the afternoon, then?”

His shoulders slump. “Not if you’d like to be able to use your hands at all this week.”

I bite down on my lip. I know I can’t continue to push, but I don’t have time to waste. Now that I have the code, I’m another step closer. “What if I only do as you said,” I say, tilting my head. “Learn how to use my body to mount a horse, rather than use my hands fully?”

He turns toward me, his brow serious and furrowed. “Your determination is impressive, but I recommend waiting until next week.”

I jump down from the table. “Fine. I’ll wait.” I head toward the front of the tent. “Thank you for tending to my hands…again.” I give him a weak smile, and push back the flap.

“Princess.”

I halt my retreat, but don’t turn to face him.

“You have every intention of riding tomorrow, don’t you?”

I nod, still not looking at him. “I do.”

He nears me and steps through the tent opening. Sweeping his hand, he ushers me to walk ahead of him. “Then I have every intention of being there to make sure you don’t kill yourself.”

ELEVEN

Iimpatiently wait for Sebastian to join me for breakfast in the atrium. Today, my goals drive me forward. I’m anxious to be out there learning to ride, although the thought of Devlan teaching me knots my stomach. I pick at my bread and sausage rather than clumsily using my fork.

Sebastian’s confession from yesterday buzzes around my brain like angry bees, thoughts stinging and swarming too loudly, making it difficult to think. It was easier to formulate an escape plan when he was merely a cocky, selfish jerk who wanted to take the throne.

Hunger wins out, and I scoop the utensil from the table with a huff. My fork is pushing my link through the drizzled honey when Sebastian finally enters. Two members of the Force trail him. My stomach lurches. Suddenly my breakfast looks less appealing.

Why are they here?

“Sorry I’m late,” Sebastian says. “But there were matters to tend to this morning.” His face is hard and unreadable. He sits in the chair next to mine. Apparently the prince doesn’t have to abide by formalities. He takes a sip of water from his goblet.

“Is everything all right?” I lower my voice. My eyes want to seek out the faces of the men who beat my father, but I keep them trained on Sebastian.

He forces a smile. “Of course.” The servant places his breakfast before him. “I have joust practice today for the upcoming tournament. I would very much like you to be there.”

The dry toast catches in my throat, and I swallow hard. “When is this?” It’s difficult to know how to behave toward him. If what he revealed yesterday was intended to alter my attitude toward him, his strategy is working. However, I haven’t forgotten that he was there overseeing the “questioning” of Mr. Levine.

His brow lifts as if he’s surprised that I haven’t shot down his invitation. “This afternoon. At the training grounds.” He smiles, and his eyes squint. “Will you be able to attend?”

As slyly as possible, I peek over at Devlan. He nods slightly, and I look Sebastian in the eyes. “I’ll be there.”

“Wonderful.” He pulls my hand from my lap. While bringing it before him, he removes the gauze. “I see Devlan fixed you up nicely. We should be able to continue riding lessons soon.”

I inhale a deep breath. “I’d like that.”

He releases my hand and picks up his fork. “I’ve sent one of the servants into town to get you a woman’s saddle. You’ll be able to ride alongside me with your own horse soon.”

My smile is authentic. “Thank you, Sebastian.”

Through the rest of breakfast, the two crimson-clad knights of the Force remain positioned on either side of Sebastian. I wonder what “matters” he’s tending to. I want to trust that he’ll stand by his convictions. That he’ll change the rule of Karm when his father is no longer here to influence him—to intimidate him. In time, he very well could be a good king. The Force’s presence, however, affirms my fear that we may never see that day.

Until I see proof of this change, I’ll continue to learn all that I can. I have a feeling I’m going to need to be at my best to survive Karm—whether I’m outside the walls of the castle or inside them.

When Sebastian leaves early for the training grounds, I exhale heavily and slump in my chair. “I’m ready.”

Devlan pushes off the glass window. “Then why are you still seated, princess?”

I scowl at him, shove my chair back, and head for the door.

* * *

“Why can’t we take Hawken?” I pout as I look over Devlan’s black horse. She’s beautiful, but I already feel comfortable with Hawken, and Devlan’s horse intimidates me. Especially if she’s anything like Devlan.

He adjusts the saddle, placing a pillion at the back. “Because,” he says, his voice deep and strained, “she is the prince’s horse. I’m not taking his horse when I have my own.”

I wonder if Sebastian would truly mind, or whether Devlan just doesn’t want to ride his former friend’s horse. Regardless, I decide it’s smart to learn to ride different horses. I might not have a choice in which one I take. Best that I master riding in general.

“Jericho will take Hawken to the field shortly anyway,” Devlan continues. “For the prince’s jousting practice.” He walks over to me and stretches out a strip of gauze. “Here. Let me at least wrap your palms.” I extend my hands, and he circles them each once with fresh bandage, leaving my fingers exposed. “That way, you can still handle the reins. I don’t want you losing hold of them.”

“You truly have no faith in me.” A smile quirks up the side of my face.

He huffs. “Princess, you are far too assured of your abilities. I praise your courageousness.” He secures the gauze, checks it doesn’t slip. “But I fault you that you can be too rash and stubborn. Not letting your hands heal before you continue on will limit how much you can do with them.”

Taken aback by his criticism, I square my shoulders. “I’ll have you know, I think long and hard before doing anything. I don’t make rash decisions.” Or else I’d have tried to escape by now.

He crosses his arms, cranes an eyebrow. “You being here right now states otherwise.”

My lips part to argue, but I can’t. There’s no way to convince him why I must learn quickly without revealing my goal. Though it burns my insides to let him win this debate, I focus my attention on the horse instead.

I run my gauze-wrapped hand along the horse’s black coat. “What’s her name?”

Devlan steps into the stirrup and mounts his horse. “Fireblood.”

My brow shoots up. “That’s a fierce name. What does it mean?”

He looks down and extends his hand to me. “Exactly what it implies; she has fire in her blood. She’s clever and fearless, burns with determination.” A crooked smile tugs at his lips. “And she’s stubborn as hell.”

I hold his eyes for a moment, taking in their blue, penetrating gaze, then I latch onto his arm. He pulls me up, and I settle easily on the pillion, not slipping or sliding.

“I could’ve used this pillion yesterday,” I say, smoothing my dress over my dangling legs.

Devlan squeezes his legs and clicks his tongue against his teeth. Fireblood trots at his command. “Yes, well. I assume the prince liked the idea of having you as close as possible.”

I notice the space between Devlan and me and decide that maybe Sebastian did like the thought. My face heats. “But this saddle still has no place to hold on to.”

He’s silent a moment, then says, “You can hold on to me if you’re scared of falling. Or you can learn to balance yourself with the horse’s gait.”

I scrunch my face, feeling like I’m being tested. “Will I fall if I don’t hold on?”

He shrugs. “It’s possible.”

I look at the ground. We’re not yet out of the fenced area, and Fireblood trots slowly. “I assume it will be painful.”

“Yes, princess,” he says, no humor in his voice. “It will be very painful. You might even break a limb. At a faster pace, you could die.”

My impulse is to wrap my arms around him. But I force my arms to my side, relax, and try to feel the horse’s rhythm. I won’t be intimidated by the first knight either.

As we clear the open gate, Devlan kicks his heels and leans forward. Fireblood canters. I dig my fingers under the strap of the pillion and squeeze, wobbling from side to side. My bandages make it difficult to grip, but I’m satisfied that I’ve shown him up. I smile so wide my cheeks ache, until he kicks his heels hard and Fireblood springs over a divot in the ground.

I yelp and latch on to his waist. Devlan doesn’t say a word, but I swear I feel him shake with laughter.

After my ride with Sebastian yesterday, I figured bringing my dagger along wouldn’t be too difficult, as long as I secured it properly. The hilt now rests on top of my thigh, so it doesn’t dig into my leg. I’m only to learn how to balance today, which gives Devlan little chance of feeling the weapon on my person. A knot forms in my stomach. I’m taking a huge risk, but I couldn’t bring myself to leave it behind. Not when the thought of being alone with Devlan stirs so much anxiety. I need its comfort.

Devlan heads us in the same direction Sebastian took me the day before. Once we near the wall, he veers away from the opening close to the meadow and rides farther toward the edge of the dense woods.

He leans back and pulls the reins, bringing Fireblood to a quick stop. He allows me to slide down first. I land with an oomph. I still haven’t gotten used to the numbness that follows a hard ride, and my bottom is sore from yesterday.

I run my hands along my cream dress. I should’ve worn a darker color. “So am I to learn to mount?”

Not looking in my direction, he shakes out the reins and walks Fireblood over to a thin tree, where he loosely hitches her.

“I don’t think I can learn to ride her if she’s tied to a tree.”

Devlan turns on me. His brows pull together, his mouth sets in a hard line. “I don’t think, princess, you’ll be learning to do much of anything if you don’t gain some common sense.”

He advances on me, and I step backward and stumble. I look behind me, searching for someone, anyone, but we’re alone. I meet his eyes when he’s right before me, my heart beating in my throat. “What are you talking about?”

He shakes his head, runs his hand through his dark hair, and puffs out an annoyed breath. Then he stalks away from me through the line of trees.

“Wait.” I glance around, confused, then chase after him. “What is wrong with you, Devlan? What did I do?”

When I reach the wooded treeline, I’m only a few feet behind him. He spins around and pulls himself up to his full, intimidating height. His emotions aren’t masked like usual. His face is pinched, and a sneer lights his features with mock humor. “Come at me,” he orders.

I open my mouth, then shut it.

Glancing at Fireblood, I mark my steps. Can I outrun him? My hand hovers over my thigh, ready to hike my dress up and grab it if he takes another step closer.

He makes a “come at me” gesture with his hands, curling his fingers toward his body. “Come on, princess. Take your best shot.”

I drop my hand. “Are you serious?”

“Very.”

My stomach clenches as I step up to him and push his chest. “There. Satisfied?”

He laughs gruffly. “Really, try to take me.” His lips curl into a rare smile, but it’s full of scorn. “Oh, what’s wrong? The princess doesn’t want to get her dress dirty?”

I squint and fist my hands. Before I know what I’m doing, my hands come up and I swing at his smug face. He sidesteps all my punches. I groan, landing a blow to his shoulder.

Instead of backing away like I expect, he steps into my punch. He grabs my shoulder and wraps his arm across my chest, bringing my back against his body.

I squirm against his hold. “Get. Off.”

He pulls me tighter to him, securing my arms to my sides so I can’t flail. His free hand reaches down and yanks up the hem of my dress. Panic spikes my system, and I go rigid with fear. As his hand roams the length of my leg, the feel of his callused palm against my skin fills me with alarm.

This isn’t happening. No, no, no. “Stop!”

His hand pauses along my thigh—and grasps the dagger.

He jerks it from the leather sheath and holds it before me. “What did you think you would do with this?” He waves the blade back and forth. “Especially if your foe takes it from you.”

I’m mute as I stare at my own dagger aimed at me. I attempt shaking my head in response, but my movements are jerky. I tremble, unable to get to my voice.

He groans and pushes me away. I spin around and watch him examine the dagger. Frightened, I wrap my arms around my body. “How did you know?”

“That is not the right question, princess.” His eyes look up from the dagger and pin me in place. “The correct question is, how did you expect to use this with damaged hands?”

My forehead creases. “I don’t understand.” I nervously glance around at the trees. “The Eyes.” He’s exposed me. Any moment the Force will be here to arrest me. I spin in circles, searching for the opening along the wall. Where is it? I turn back toward Devlan and glare.

He tosses the dagger at me and I barely catch it. “There are no cams here. You can stop fretting.” He nods to me. “Grip the hilt,” he instructs. “Tight as you can, as if you were facing an opponent.”

Relief that I won’t be hauled off to the Oubliette spreads through me, and I breathe in the pine-scented air, regaining my wits. I try to grab the hilt as instructed, but the gauze and the ache from my sore palms prevent me from getting a good hold. “What the hell is your point, Devlan? What does this have to do with riding?” Angry tears sting my eyes, but I blink them back.

He takes a step toward me, and his voice softens. “A few more days of using the reins as per the prince’s teaching methods, and your hands will be a bloody mess.” He furrows his brow. “How will you then manage to fight off the Force when you can’t grasp your weapon?”

Heat splashes my cheeks. I stare up into his blue eyes, so close now. “Why don’t you just hand me over to them now and be done with it?” I ask. “Or better yet, take me out yourself.”

“You really aren’t as bright as you seem sometimes, Zara.”

“Well you…” I trail off, forgetting the words of my rant. “You called me Zara.”

He cocks his head. “You ordered me to do as such.” “But you never listen to me.”

“Ha,” he mock-laughs. His features brighten with a twist upward of his lips. “Touché.”

A tremor works its way down my legs, and I can no longer think with so much adrenaline coursing through my body. I walk over to a tree and lean against it for support.

Devlan walks toward me slowly, his eyes trailing over me. “Yesterday,” he says, running his hand through his hair. “I knew yesterday when I sat you on the table.” He levels a look at me. “Bottoms are not supposed to make a clinking noise.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, remembering his hard eyes on me, his probing stare in the tent. At least he didn’t expose me then. Why didn’t he? Why did he wait till we were away from the Eyes? “You don’t understand. I need to have it with me.” I open my eyes and stare into his. “It was my father’s.”

Devlan takes three long strides until his tall form towers above me, barely inches between us. His eyes widen and he tips his head forward, looking at me through his dark bangs. “Your father’s.”

I nod once. He doesn’t shy away at the mention of a Taken, so I continue. “Yes. It’s all I have left of him. Before he died, he gave it to me. He said it would protect me.”

His eyes travel down my body to the dagger in my hand. He shakes his head. “Of course,” he says under his breath. “May I?”

A hollow laugh escapes me. “You’re asking now to take it?” He doesn’t answer. His face is set serious. I loose a heavy breath and hand it to him.

Backing up a few steps, he flips the dagger and grabs the hilt out of the air, then runs his thumb along my father’s engraved initials. “It’s a fine weapon.” He studies the blade and the small crest of the eagle and sword along the side. “And he was right to give it to you.”

I drop my gaze to the ground. “I don’t even know how to use it.”

“Sometimes,” he says, moving closer and handing it back to me, “something’s symbolism is more important than its use.” I want him to explain his theory, but before I get the words to leave my mouth, he continues. “When are you planning to make your great escape?”

I shrug my shoulders, ashamed. “I don’t know.” I cross my arms over my chest. “Things are complicated now.” I don’t know why I’m admitting this to him other than that it feels right to reveal some of the secrets weighing on my soul. My life is in his hands. He can turn me over to Sebastian, King Hart, the Force, and all will end badly for me. At least I can state my case here and now.

“Sebastian,” he says simply. His lips twist into a knowing grin. “He does care for you.”

I recoil at his bluntness. “He thinks he does.” The rough bark of the tree scratches at my bruised backside. I push away and sit in the pine straw instead. “That sounds terrible to say, but he doesn’t know me.”

Devlan joins me on the ground. He draws his leg up and rests his arm on top of his knee. “Maybe. But I’ve seen the way he looks at you. And behaves around you. He’s different.” He tosses his dark bangs out of his eyes. “You aren’t just another Court girl to him.”

Leveling a serious look at him, I stare into his blue eyes. “You sound like you know him well.”

“Don’t play games, princess,” he says. “If you have something you’d like to know of me, just ask.”

“Fine. What happened between the two of you? I’d like to know what made you come back here—” I wave my hand through the air “—to this hellish prison, after he abandoned you and betrayed your friendship.”

He’s quiet as he looks at me intently. I’m unsure if he’s going to say anything more, and heat creeps up the back of my neck as I hold his stare. “It’s complicated,” he finally answers.

I widen my eyes, urging him to continue. When he doesn’t, I say, “And? I understand as much, but why come back and become his knight commander? You’re obviously still sore over your falling out.”

He picks up a blade of pine straw and twirls it between his fingers. “One day, if I can convince you to stay at the castle, that is…” He eyes me. “I’ll explain it to you. But as we have limited time before you must meet with the prince, I suggest we get on with your riding lesson.”

“That’s it?” I huff. “You’re not going to share after you’ve made me reveal all my secrets?”

Tossing the pine straw to the ground, he stands and walks over to me, then extends his hand. “I said you could ask, not that I’d answer.” I bite my bottom lip, tempted to smack his hand away. He reaches down, careful of my injured hands, and grabs my wrist, pulling me up to stand next to him.

He’s back to being the silent, brooding first knight, and I know I’ll get nothing more out of him now. I turn, ready to ride Fireblood, when realization slams into me. I face him. “You’re not going to turn me in?”

Devlan sinks his thumbs behind his uniform belt and cocks his head. “No.” He takes a couple of steps closer to me. “You said you have a choice to make. I’ll allow you to make it.” His eyes rake over my frame. “I trust you’ll do the right thing.”

I hang my head. “But what’s the right thing?”

He places his hand just under my chin and lifts my face. “In time, you’ll know.” He drops his hand. “Also, I have little worry of you stealing a horse to escape on as you don’t have a key. And you won’t be taking mine.” He turns and walks away, but says over his shoulder, “You still have plenty of secrets, princess.” He glances back at me. “I plan to discover them all.”

Without my permission, my lips twist into a tight smile. “And I suppose yours are your bargaining chip.”

He lifts his brows. “Of course.”

TWELVE

Feeling only slightly relieved, I follow Devlan to where Fireblood is pushing her nose along the ground. The morning is turning into noon, and dark clouds scatter the sky. I still can’t help thinking about the person whose job it is to make the rain. How does King Hart make it all work?

I shake my head, clearing away the deviant thoughts. If I continue to think on everything, I’ll drive myself mad. Instead, I try to focus on my task at hand: learn to ride the horse whose name means fierce and stubborn—with fire in her blood.

Devlan looks to the sky. A line forms between his brows. “We don’t have much time before the rain comes.” He pats the horse’s saddle. “Hop up.”

A cold chill worms its way down my spine as I recall Mr. Levine saying nearly the same words. I shake it off, then cock an eyebrow. “Just like that?” I mimic his sure movement, patting the air. “Hop up.”

“For all your bravery, princess,” he says, “you lack the conviction to see things through yourself.” He walks toward me and takes one of my hands, then pulls me over to his horse. “Now, take the reins in your left hand. Let the slack drape over the horse.” I do what he says. “Grab the horse’s mane with the hand that holds the reins, and grip the cantle”—he points to the saddle—“with your other hand. Put your dainty little boot into the stirrup and hop up.”

He holds his hand up. “Wait.” He turns his palm up. “First, give me the dagger.”

My lips turn down. “Nay. I can’t. It belonged to my—”

“I know. But you can’t walk around with an outlawed weapon on you.” His eyebrows knit together. “That’s too dangerous. I’ll put it someplace safe for you. I promise.”

My chest tightens. “Devlan, I just can’t.” I look into his eyes, imploring him. “I made a promise to him.” He doesn’t have to know that I mentally made that promise. It means just the same to me.

He groans and rubs the back of his neck. “This is stupid.” Staring into my eyes, he matches my intensity. “Do not wear it on your person. Hide it somewhere in your room, somewhere your maid or anyone else won’t look.”

“I will,” I say quickly.

He eyes me as if he’s not completely convinced, and pats Fireblood’s saddle.

I suck in a breath and look at Fireblood. Biting down on my bottom lip, I take the reins and slip my foot into the leather stirrup, just as he told me, and attempt to pull myself up. It’s much harder than it looks, and much harder than his instructions made it sound. I hit the ground with my free foot.

“It’s too high.”

“No,” he says, and grabs my waist. “It’s not. You have to get stronger. Use the momentum of your body to haul yourself up. I’ll help this once, but focus on the feel as you bound up.”

On his ready, I jump and pull as he lifts. I sink my chest against the horse’s neck, latching my legs around her stomach, scared I’ll tumble over. But it’s not that bad. I’m already used to the feel of being atop a horse. I sit up straight and smile.

“Ha,” I say. “I think I can do it on my own now.” I glance down at Devlan for his approval, but he’s looking at the ground. A sideways smile sneaks up his face. “What? What did I do wrong?”

He finally looks at me. “Nothing, princess. But once we have a proper women’s saddle, you may want to practice mounting her sidesaddle.”

Heat spreads over my face as I look at my legs straddled on either side of the horse, my dress hiked up to my thighs. I clear my throat and pull my skirt down to cover my sheath, unwilling to allow his mockery to embarrass me. “Well, mayhap I’ll simply wear trousers from now on.”

Devlan shakes his head but says nothing. For about an hour, he instructs me on the basics. He has me kneel atop the horse to learn balance; close my eyes; bend in all directions; hunch over and lean back. Then he goes over the necessary leg cues.

Afterward, he jogs beside Fireblood’s neck and grabs her bridle. He leads her in a slow trot as I get used to being on a horse by myself. We do this for a while until I’m comfortable, feeling as though I won’t fall off if I go a little faster.

When he releases her, I give her a harder kick than I had planned. Fireblood whinnies and bucks several times. Panicking, I try to halt her from taking off, and I slap the reins against her neck. Stupid. She bounds off in a spooked gallop.

Hell.

To make it worse, the sky opens up and rain pours down. Not a drizzle, but a full downpour. I lean forward, getting closer to the horse, and wipe the wetness from my eyes. My heart beats as fast as the drum of Fireblood’s hooves hitting the ground.

“Zara!” Devlan cries out.

My gritted teeth won’t let me answer him. I try to think through the panic, remember how he said to stop her. It dawns, and I lean back and pull the reins. Fireblood immediately halts, her back legs bending beneath her. I yelp as I’m thrown from the horse.

I flip and hit the ground hard. My head jars from the impact and smacks the ground. My back sinks into the soggy earth. I reach behind my head and palm the sore, aching lump that’s already forming. Devlan’s footfalls thump the ground, getting closer.

“Zara.” He flings himself down by my side. Kneeling in the wet dirt, he lifts me into his arms and cradles my body and head. “Damn it.” His eyes search my face, and I squint, trying to block the rain as it pelts my cheeks. “Are you all right? Can you move your legs?”

I nod and immediately regret it. “Ow.”

His fingers slide into my hair, feeling the tender spot. “That will be painful a short while. But at least we’ve discovered your head is not as hard as I first thought.”

Despite myself, I laugh. His blue eyes shine, widening in surprise. He brightens as a smile stretches across his face. Not the sneer or slight grin he rarely gives me, the ones that still hide all emotion from his face. But a true smile. One that transforms his features from their brooding mask into something beautiful.

My breath halts as I stare into his eyes, and study his lips, the curve of his chin. The small dimples carved into his cheeks. A tiny scar just under his slight cleft that I never noticed before. He runs his other hand along my face, clearing away the wet tangles of hair from my forehead. Then he brushes my cheek. Chilled tendrils coil along my skin, sending a shiver through my body.

His face drops into the all too familiar mask. He looks to the sky, then back to me. “You should get out of the rain before you fall ill.” His lips press into a thin line and his dimples disappear. “Are you all right to ride?”

I blink a few times as I’m snapped back to where I am—lying in a soggy field with the first knight holding me. I force a nod against his cupped hand. “Yes,” I manage.

He lifts me up as he gets to his feet. I attempt to wipe the dirt from my dress, but it’s useless, matted in with the rain.

“I suppose now you’ll want to take your time learning to ride.” He doesn’t look at me as he shakes out the reins and pets Fireblood’s wet mane.

I fist my hands on my hips. “After I’ve just learned to stop all on my own?” His head snaps in my direction. I smile. “Honestly, Devlan Capra, you don’t know me at all.”

* * *

Once I’m clean and dressed in a new blue gown, I run a comb through my hair and place my silver crown atop my head. The lump has gone down, and the band is loose enough that the circlet doesn’t bother the sore area. For that, I’m thankful.

I apply a small amount of the ointment Devlan gave me and rub my palms until the greasy feel is no longer bothersome. They only slightly sting, and if I continue to bandage my hands nightly with the salve, I feel they’ll be healed soon.

I glance out my balcony door and notice the rain has stopped. Maybe only momentarily, as the sky remains a dark gray with a shimmer of faint, electric blue lines. If Sebastian still plans to joust regardless of the weather, I need to leave soon to meet him. I gather up the hem of my dress and feel for my leather sheath, my dagger. Despite Devlan’s knowledge of it and his warning, I choose to keep it close.

One thing I don’t have to worry about at this point: a foe to take it from me. I trust that no one but Devlan would be audacious enough to pull such a move as he did, and Sebastian has been well-behaved since the night of our betrothal.

I open the door and nod to Devlan, then walk ahead of him toward the spiral staircase. The torches are lit early, making up for the loss of light on the overcast day, and the hallways crackle.

As we reach the back hall that opens up to the training grounds, I see the army of knights and members of the Force practicing on the grassy field. Some of the courtiers from the royal village are seated along with the nobles in the risers, privileged to watch the tourney training.

I’ve never been permitted to attend the training week before the tournament. Not that I had ever wanted to. It’s overwhelming as I take in the sight. The ground is sectioned off, marked with white chalk on the grass.

In one area, a group of knights dressed in silver armor thrust swords at each other, while in the next section they battle on horseback. In the center of it all, a long railing stretches across the diameter of the field, where the joust is taking place. Two knights atop horses charge toward each other, their lances outstretched. They smack into one another, and one is unhorsed.

At the sound of a lance breaking and the rider hitting the ground, I cringe. I glance over my shoulder to Devlan. “You’re not disappointed you’re stuck with me instead of out there with your knights?”

His gaze drifts over the training grounds, then his eyes find and linger on my face. “It’s not nearly as entertaining as watching a princess learn to ride.” He grins. “How’s your head, by the way?’

My face flushes. “Fine.” I step down to the lower level and then onto the ground, seeking Sebastian, and nearly stumble right onto a dead bird. Devlan’s hand catches my arm, holding me back.

“I’ll have it taken care of.” He releases me and reaches for his communicator.

The dead bird is forgotten as my gaze lands on Sebastian and Cecily, their heads close together as they talk. Moving behind the risers, I work my way across the field toward them as Devlan trails me. I hope the first knight’s lofty height won’t give us away. I’d like to hear some of their conversation, though guilt at eavesdropping sits heavily in my stomach.

Still, this is the man I’m betrothed to. I want to know more about him and his relationships outside of our own.

As I hunch behind the makeshift riser, Devlan clears his throat. I wave my hand behind my back to quiet him. I know the expression he probably now wears is a mocking one, but I’ll deal with his scolding later. Right now, Sebastian is reaching up toward Cecily’s face.

“That was then, Cecily,” Sebastian says softly, cupping her cheek. “I have a kingdom to rule, and I’ve told you, my father has voiced his opinion. Though we shared…special moments, I’m afraid it has to stop.” He bows his head, then meets her eyes again. “Please understand.”

I can’t see Cecily’s face as her back is to me, but I can make out the tremble of her shoulders. My heart aches for her. Again, why did he not choose her? There is no logic that can explain away why someone as beautiful and regal as she shouldn’t be betrothed to the prince. Especially if they’ve already been intimate. However, maybe the king ended their affair for that very reason, and I was an alternative to Sebastian’s buried desire for her.

I’ll never know unless Sebastian chooses to tell me the truth of their relationship.

He turns away from her and heads toward his knights in the center of the field. His walk is steady and determined as he leaves her behind, and after seeing his close moment with her, I feel as though Sebastian has many layers—ones I may never touch upon fully.

Cecily guardedly wipes her eyes and glances around, as if wary over witnesses. I turn and dip behind the tall bleachers, but not quickly enough.

“Princess Zara?”

My eyes close and my frame stiffens. I hope she doesn’t realize I’ve overheard. When I open my eyes, Devlan is staring at me, his face drawn in a curious expression.

I relent and pivot to greet her with a smile. “Miss Cecily.” I remember not to curtsy this time. “I didn’t know you were interested in the tourneys.”

Her smile brightens, though forced, and she approaches me while holding up the hem of her olive gown. “Please, just Cecily. I do hate my friends using my name so formally. And you’re so comical, Princess Zara.” She mock-laughs, her blonde ringlets bouncing as she turns her attention to the knights. “The tourneys are hardly what I’m interested in.” I follow her gaze over the field to where Sebastian is suiting up in armor. “I just love a good game.”

I bite my tongue, refraining from telling her that I was never a player in the pursuit for the prince. Instead, I force my own smile wider. If I could find a way to trade places with her, I’d gladly do so.

Cecily spins toward the small crowd gathered in the spectators’ area along the sidelines. A number of folding chairs are spread out, and the noblewomen and their ladies-in-waiting are seated there. She turns toward me again. “Sir Devlan,” she says, looking past me. “Escort a lady to her seat?”

Devlan remains quiet, but steps forward and angles his arm out to her. I can’t help but wonder if the first knight has taken Sebastian’s place on the “most eligible bachelors” list.

We enter the spectator’s area, and Cecily thanks Devlan as she runs her hand along his arm, complimenting his strong physique. I plop down in one of the seats. Two other girls I met at the ceremony smile and congratulate me on my engagement to Sebastian.

“You have to admit,” one of them—Sabina—says, “there’s no better way one scopes out her future husband than by watching him perform the joust.” She nods her head toward the knights preparing to mount their horses.

“Agreed,” the girl sitting next to her says. She leans forward, sweeps her long dark hair aside, and looks at me. “Have you ever seen Prince Sebastian joust, Princess Zara?”

I can’t recall her name, so I smile. “Nay. I’m afraid I’ve not had the privilege yet.” I look at each in turn and say, “And please, call me Zara.” I turn toward Cecily to include her in this request. I at least appreciate her deviance from formalities.

“Oh,” the dark-haired girl says. “Then you’re in for a treat.” She points to one of the knights. “Prince Sebastian is mounting now.”

Cecily leans closer to us, dropping her voice. “And look at him mount.”

I spot Hawken first and squint, trying to see the rider better. I can tell that underneath the armor it’s Sebastian. He has an air about him, as if he’s aware all eyes are on him. He mounts Hawken with confidence, then lifts his hand toward the crowd. Cheers sound from the risers and the girls next to me fan themselves in mock-swoon.

Cecily looks up at the first knight. “Sir Devlan, will you be competing in any tourneys this year?” She bats her long, kohl-coated lashes.

Devlan nods once. “I will, Miss Cecily.” He rocks back on his heels. “I have a title to defend.”

She slaps her hands together. “That’s right. I nearly forgot you won the melee last season.”

“Yes.” Devlan’s eyes slip over me. “But it will be the only tourney I’m entered into.”

“For shame. I’d love to see you joust.” Cecily puckers her lips into a pout. “But, the melee is the most impressive. I’ll be cheering for you, Sir Devlan.” She gives him a wide, toothy smile.

I study Devlan for a moment. His eyes are trained on Sebastian now. I wonder if he roots for him to win or secretly wishes him unhorsed.

“Cecily,” I say, turning toward her. “Is it true Prince Sebastian has never been unhorsed?”

Her lips twitch into a smile as her eyes scan me, then she looks to the field. “It’s true. Although, more than just knights have tried to unhorse him.” A laugh tumbles from her mouth.

“Oh, Cecily,” Sabina chimes in. “You’re so wicked.” But she joins in with the laughter of Cecily and the other girl.

I scrunch my face. “What do you mean?” I ask, and they shoot me looks that imply I’ve said something stupid. I haven’t grown up in Court like them, nor have I been privy to gossip and the secret talk of the courtiers. But when they all turn their heads and stare down at Sebastian like animals tracking their prey, I regret my question.

Cecily dips her head toward me and lowers her voice into a whisper. “Sebastian is quite the flirt. Always with a girl on his arm. That is, until recently, of course.” She tosses me a quick smile, then returns her wide, hungry gaze back to the prince. “It became quite entertaining to watch girls throw themselves at him, all bidding for his affections, a tourney in itself.”

“Well,” I say, inwardly discounting that he’d simply stop with the courtesans due to our engagement, “mayhap he has other things on his mind. Like becoming a king.”

“Mayhap.” Her eyes are far away as she watches him. “But the way he rides…you just know a man like that knows his way around the bedchamber.”

I catch myself before my mouth falls open. I look back to Sebastian getting ready to charge: his back straight and strong, his lance in hand, the sun glinting off his armor. He’s handsome, there’s no question, and hearing he’s experienced is no shock. I assumed as much before having his and Cecily’s relationship confirmed. I can also picture him through Cecily’s eyes: a trophy to be won.

But when I look closely at Cecily—her eyes following his every move, her thin lips pressed together in anticipation, her creamy fingers laced together so tightly her knuckles turn white—I question if it’s not more than that for her. Whether or not she truly cares for him. Her tough exterior doesn’t match the hurt I observed as she spoke with him earlier.

“Don’t worry.” Cecily breaks the hushed spell falling over the crowd. “If any of them had been successful, you’d have heard about it.” She smiles sweetly. “These are not girls who can hold their tongues when such bragging rights are in play.” She winks.

As I squint at her, taking in the innocent look she has smeared on her face, I know she is staking her claim—her bragging rights.

Suddenly, her spite becomes clear. If I had been with a man only to be discarded—only to watch him betroth another—I’d be livid, too. Although, I believe I’d unleash some of that venom on the one who did the discarding.

I look at Sebastian lifting his lance at his side, majestic and poised for battle, and my stomach roils. Cecily may not be the most pleasant maiden I’ve encountered, but she doesn’t deserve to be used and cast off.

Sabina leans forward and waves her hand at us. “They’re about to start.”

Near the center of the long railing, a man wearing a burgundy vest and black hose waves a white flag. Sebastian kicks his heels, and Hawken gallops. I look down the rail at a knight on a dark brown horse, coming at the prince. I want to close my eyes, but I can’t help needing to see the impact. It’s like waiting for a horrible accident—and knowing it’s coming. You can’t look away.

Sebastian raises his lance at the last moment and it crashes into the knight’s shoulder. The knight sways a couple times before falling to the ground. His lance drops to the earth, un-shattered.

The crowd jumps to its feet and cheers its prince. I follow their lead and spring from my chair, clapping as Sebastian circles Hawken back around to the knight.

Sebastian dismounts and walks over to the fallen knight. I believe he’s about to offer him a hand, help him up in a show of good sport, until he bends and picks up the fallen lance. He flips the carved black wood and then uses the handle to strike the knight in the head.

My mouth opens. My hands freeze mid-clap. When the knight attempts to rise, Sebastian hits him over the head again, and the knight goes limp. I glance around at the crowd, expecting to see appalled expressions. Instead they cheer their prince on as if his actions are not only common, but expected of him.

I look back to Sebastian and stare wide-eyed. This cannot be the same man I talked with at the meadow, the one who spoke of changing the realm for the better. Nor the man who showed such tenderness to his mistress only moments ago. Is his father watching? Who is Sebastian putting on this show for? Is it a show?

“My, Zara.” Cecily leans into me and gives me a smile. “You’re either as stimulated by male aggression as I am…” She glances at Sebastian. “Or you’re in for a surprise in the bedchamber.”

THIRTEEN

After the joust, I quickly part ways with the noble ladies and their ladies-in-waiting. Strangely, I find myself missing the company of my maid. Madity might have the nerves of a squirrel, but I prefer her conversation over the boring dribble of the noble blood of the court.

Once I relieve Devlan of his duties for the afternoon, I enter my room with a huff and plop down on the bed. He’s been with me every waking moment and, although I’m getting used to his constant lurking, I want him to have time to himself. When he’s not with me, what does he do? Where does he go?

Madity enters with a beaming smile, acknowledging me with a bow of her head before she fluffs one of my pillows. “Here, m’lady. Lie back and rest. You’ve had a busy week thus far.” She sighs and shakes her head. “Honestly, I don’t know what possessed you to want to ride those animals.”

I smile at her. I’ve gotten used to her constant fussing over me. Her presence is comforting, almost like having a parent again. I realize that, regardless of her station, she is fond of me. Knowing at least one person in this bleak, altered reality cares makes it slightly more tolerable.

“Madity.” I recline back on my bed. “Do you have any children?”

Her back straightens as she snaps upright. “Nay, princess. My position here at the castle would make having a family very difficult.” She walks to my armoire, favoring her bad leg, and begins hanging gowns. “Though I consider my charges very close to a family.” She gives me a warm smile.

I match her smile, and allow her words to settle over me in silence. A deep ache pulses in my chest, and I can’t help feeling the burden of yet another person I’ll be disappointing when I leave.

She gathers my mud-soaked dress and tsks. “I’ll have this cleaned, if it’s at all possible. May be one to simply dispose of.” She laughs, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Oh, I do have such work to look forward to with you, m’lady.” Shuffling over to my side, she smoothes my hair away from my forehead with the backs of her fingers. “But you’re worth it, my dear.”

The ache grows at her praise, and I have to look away.

After she resumes her tasks in the bathing room, I settle deeper into my coverlet. I’m nearly nodding off, my eyelids heavy with sleep, when my birthday gift from Devlan buzzes. It’s the first time my communicator has gone off, and I startle awake.

Grabbing it from my nightstand, I flip it over and over, trying to figure out how to use it. I press the button on the side. Nothing happens. Damn.

It crackles. “You have to talk while pressing the button, princess,” Devlan’s annoyed voice sounds over the device.

I hold in the button. “You could’ve told me this when you gave it to me.” I match his tone, but my face lifts with amusement. My cheeks tighten as I smile.

“The Prince requests a private dinner with you tonight.” A long pause follows. “Will you be joining him?”

My head spins. After watching his display on the field, I wanted time alone to piece together my thoughts. Although not having to suffer through dinner with the nobles is tempting. I enjoy mornings more than the evenings in the castle for this very reason.

“Princess?” Devlan’s concerned voice comes over the communicator.

“Yes,” I finally answer. “I’ll meet with him.”

The device crackles again. “I’ll come for you within the hour.”

I toss the communicator onto the coverlet, then slog to my armoire and change into a white gown—Sebastian’s favorite color. I swear, I would’ve slapped myself only a few days ago for doing so. But if I’m going to make a decision that will affect the rest of my life and impact others’ lives, I have to be sure. I have to know that if I never succeed in escaping—if I’m trapped here—I could at least rule alongside a friend. Could I help Sebastian fulfill his claims to want to change the realm?

My eyes close, and I see my father’s pale face. Blood drips from the side of his mouth as I wipe with a damp cloth. Cleansing and nursing him after knights of the Force worked him over for missing a production deadline. Mr. Levine’s cries in the arcade echo through my mind. The sight of his stomach being ripped open by the hook—

I grit my teeth, forcing the images away.

It was not Sebastian who ordered it done. It was his father, and soon he won’t be King when Sebastian takes the throne. The Round Table knights won’t be under King Hart’s command. I have to judge Sebastian on his actions alone.

After I finish applying makeup and fixing my hair in an intricate up-do—with Madity’s help, of course—I step into my matching white-satin slippers and straighten out the hem of my gown. I run my hands along the smooth fabric and spin, watching the clear jewels sparkle as they reflect the candlelight.

I stop and feel my naked thigh. If I’m truly to challenge myself, I have to leave the dagger behind. I need to feel its strength once more before I leave, though. After saying goodnight to Madity, I hustle over to the bed and slip my hand between the mattresses.

I touch the black hilt, running the tip of my finger over the smooth curve of the handle and the winged crest. Maybe if my father had explained its importance, I’d understand what he expected of me when he entrusted me with it. But as he didn’t and I’m left here on my own, I must make decisions for myself now. I need to choose for myself what is best.

Taking a deep breath, I brace myself and open the door. Devlan leans leisurely against the stone, his back to me. I clear my throat, and he pushes off the wall and turns about. Our eyes meet, and his usual hard expression wavers as his eyes slowly drift down my body. Heat creeps onto my face, and my cheeks tingle. I can’t read his expression, as it’s one I’ve never seen before.

He straightens to attention. After a long, awkward silence between us, his lips part. “Princess,” he finally says. “The prince will be speechless.”

I smile coyly. “Funny, Devlan,” I say as I walk past him. “I’d say he’s not the only one.” I glance over my shoulder, and his face flushes just the slightest.

He nods once. “You are correct.” He ushers me forward, sweeping his hand through the air. I’m surprised by the first knight’s rare show of emotion, and my insides flutter. “But remember,” he says as I turn and start walking ahead of him. “I’ve also seen you covered in mud.”

I bite down on my tongue, stopping myself from snapping a comeback. He never fails to elicit the worst in me. I swear, I was never combative until I met him.

I continue down the corridor, ignoring the smug look I know he now wears. At least he didn’t mention me straddling his horse.

Devlan directs me toward the atrium. I expect to find Sebastian waiting at our usual table, but when I enter the room is empty. He unlocks the giant glass door. It slides open and he leads me to the outside garden.

My breath catches, and my feet fail to bring me one step farther. Tea lights hang from branches of the fruit trees, tiny flames dancing inside the crystal, lighting up the enclosed area like stars in the night sky. The fountain is lit with a soft white glow, and the water sparkles as it cascades over the stone. In the center of the shrub-enclosed garden, tall and short candles flicker, decorating a table draped in white satin.

Sebastian stands next to it.

“Zara,” he says, my name breathy on his lips. “Wow.” His eyes trail over my frame, taking me in, and I can’t help but do the same to him. He’s dressed in all black, except for a dark blue belt that holds his scabbard and sword, and a matching blue tunic under his vest. He’s striking. The dark clothing against his light-toned features is a beautiful contrast.

He approaches me, his golden eyes flickering. “There are no words for how breathtaking you are.” He takes my hand and bows, placing a soft kiss on the back of it.

I allow him to continue holding my hand as he guides me to a seat. “Sebastian.” I glance around the garden as I sit. “This is truly beautiful. You outdid yourself.”

His smile reaches his eyes, making them bright and lively. “You give me far too much credit.” He waves his hand around. “Can you see me climbing trees?”

I laugh, picturing the prince doing anything himself. “You know what I mean.”

“I do.” His head tilts as he stares at me. “And look.” He points to our goblets. “Grape juice.”

I laugh louder, but uncertainty grips my chest as I remember his callous words in the corridor after the betrothal—his lips hard on mine. I push the thought out of my mind and try to be in the now.

We don’t talk much during supper. But the sounds of the garden, with its crickets and the splash of its fountain, enchant me, and I don’t desire conversation.

After supper, Sebastian asks me to walk with him through the garden before I retire to my chamber, and I agree.

The crisp air is weighted, pressing down on me as I realize I must garner the information I came here to get. I can’t postpone any longer. I open my mouth to forge ahead, but he turns to me with questions of his own.

“I was thinking,” Sebastian says, taking my hand in his as we round a corner near the maze. “I’m going into town soon, to make an announcement in the square about the tournament.” His thumb rubs the top of my hand. “Would you like to come?”

I stop and face him. “You’re actually allowing me outside these walls?” I cock my head, trying to hold back the excitement coursing my veins. My whole body wants to react—scream to be outside of Court.

He sighs. “Zara. It was not my intention to inflict intolerable restraint on you.” His brow furrows. “You have to understand. There’re certain precautions we must take.”

“Against this network of conspirators?” I shake my head. “Why have I never heard of them before? Are they truly bent on attacking you—attacking me?”

His mouth lifts in an amused smile. “It’s not what you think, my love. I don’t fear them attacking you. They’re bent on destroying the realm and…ah, it’s complicated.” He takes my other hand in his and brings them between us. “Though Karm is the safest place in all the world, royalty cannot go wandering the streets. You’d be surprised how commoners will latch onto you, and it can become quite frightening when they start fawning.”

“I was a commoner, and I never fawned over anyone.”

He laughs. “You, my love, were never common.” He kisses one of my hands. “But trust me. You don’t want to be stopped every second in the street or market, being asked to change this or that. Invited to suppers and weddings. Made to appear at baby christenings.”

“Is that what I’ll have to do?” I look away from him and glance around the garden. The tea lights glimmer in the tree branches. The chilled air is scented with roses and lavender. I consider where I am…and what I could do if I must remain here. “I hoped to put my position to use—help others, remove station barriers, make the orphanage better. But those will be my duties?”

His smile falters, his face pulls into a scowl. “You’re to be Queen, Zara. Not a saint. The people don’t—” He bites off his words and inhales deeply. “Yes. Those will be your duties. Among others.” His eyes become intense. “Your first, and the only one I require of you, is being with me.” He cups the back of my neck and tilts my head up. His thumb gently rests against my cheek.

I step back abruptly, putting space between us. “Sebastian.” I say his name barely above a whisper.

He releases an audible breath and drops his hands, then stares at the ground. He’s quiet a moment, only the sound of our mingled breaths between us. “Too soon,” he says softly, looks up and backs away farther. “We still have plenty of time before the wedding. We’ll go as slowly as you’d like.”

A shuddering breath leaves my lips with obvious relief, but just as quickly a twinge of panic worms its way into my chest. I feared telling him outright at the meadow that I have no intentions of being with him romantically. And after seeing his temper today on the field with just a sport at risk, I have no idea what the prince may do if I continue to reject him.

However, I can’t allow him the slightest hope that I will ever willingly marry him.

I suck in a breath and latch onto that small fire burning in the pit of my stomach. It’s there, but faint. “Thank you.” I draw myself up straighter. “But I have something to confess.”

His brows hike up his forehead. “Am I going to like this confession?”

Biting my lip, I look up at him. “Probably not, my lord, but I’ve thought long on what you told me at the meadow. I want to be by your side, help you in your endeavors.” I nod, hoping he follows along as I don’t want to say anything incriminating on Court grounds. “Only, I can’t truly be with you. As your wife.” My chest prickles as I allow this to sink in a moment, and then add, “I’ll understand if you should choose another now that you know my position.”

“Let me escort you to your chamber.” He takes my arm and guides us toward the trellis opening. “It’s getting late, and I believe you’re to continue riding lessons on the morrow?”

I stop and turn on him. “Sebastian, did you hear—”

“As I said before.” His eyes snap to my face, his features wooden. “There is plenty of time before the wedding.” He smiles, but it’s forced, muted against the hard lines of his face. “I will win your affections by then.”

Drawing in the cool night air, I allow the chill to coat my stinging lungs. I hesitantly walk beside him toward the opening of the garden, pondering what else might convince him that I’ll never be with him in the way he desires. It took all my strength to admit those words. I hoped he’d somehow be relieved, use my reluctance as an excuse to choose Cecily.

However, I don’t want to press him further tonight. I trust that he—as Madity claimed—has a good heart, and maybe after thinking on what I said, will see that a marriage between us is impossible.

I change the subject. “I’ve asked Devlan to fill in teaching my riding lessons for the rest of this week while you’re preparing for the tournament.”

He nods once. His eyebrows knit together. “That’s excellent. Devlan is a fine rider.”

We near the lattice opening of the garden and Devlan is there, waiting with his hand cupped over the hilt of his arming sword, standing at perfect attention. His face is stoic as he stares past us.

As we pass through the arch, I glance at Devlan and our eyes meet. For a brief moment, his features harden. His face rigid and dark, his blue eyes cold. A shiver works its way down my spine. I can almost register what he may be feeling, but then his impenetrable mask slips back into place, shutting me out.

Before I force my gaze away, Devlan smiles. But it doesn’t match his cool, hard eyes.

FOURTEEN

The sky is clear, and sparse white clouds feather the pure blue with no threat of rain. The weather is agreeable. No mud puddles to splash around in if I’m thrown from a horse. I feel confident about the afternoon’s ride, even though Devlan’s avoidance of me is off-putting.

He’s the only thing ruining my otherwise perfect day. Luckily I spent most of it with Madity, going over her marital preparation to-do list. Picking out material for my wedding dress. Tasting icing for the cake. I think she was as shocked as me that I didn’t oppose. I did enjoy it, as I imagine I would’ve done these things with my mother were she alive. But at the same time, I was anxious to be done and get to my lesson.

Devlan readies Fireblood with a woman’s saddle, grunting as he pulls the leather straps tight. Jericho stands to his side. His shorn dark hair makes him look younger than I believe he is.

I lean against the wood fence, fingering my locket, and stare up at the sky. Too many thoughts cloud my mind to allow Devlan’s infectious behavior to bother me much longer. I’ve decided it’s best to fulfill my father’s wishes and escape this maddening place. Sebastian should be free to choose another, and rule his kingdom however he feels is best.

Before I leave, I’ll visit the chapel, and do something I’ve not done since coming here.

Pray.

I’ve been too conceited in thinking I could influence the soon-to-be king. He’s his own man, and responsible for his actions. The court is not my world. Not my place. I want to be free of the burden weighing on me, and I want to respect my father’s memory and do as he requested. I have to learn to relinquish control, and trust that a higher power already has a plan.

Glancing at Devlan, I ask, “Where are we going today?”

He adjusts his stance, then strokes Fireblood’s mane. “Right here.” He finally looks at me. “You’re going to take instructions from Jericho today within the stable area.”

My brow scrunches. “But why? I’ve been doing well, have I not?”

“Yes, princess.” He steps away from his horse and motions with his hand, urging me over to her. “But there’s no reason to go out again until you can mount on your own and ride on your own.” He cocks his head. “Next time, you’ll have your own horse.”

Though I’m disappointed that I won’t get to feel the wind on my face, or the exhilaration of bounding over the plains, I accept this. The faster I learn to do it all on my own, the faster I’ll have my own horse. Then it’ll be time to go.

I unlace my arms from around my chest and step up to the horse.

“Wait,” Devlan says. He turns around to grab a thick, three-legged ladder, then positions it beside the horse. “A mounting block. So you can mount sidesaddle.” A slight grin tips the corner of his lips up.

Relieved, I climb to the third step and turn toward Fireblood. Gripping her mane and the saddle tightly—now that my hands no longer burn—I pull myself onto the saddle with a huff. This time, I land my bottom in the saddle correctly, both my legs to one side. I smile and look down at Devlan.

Expecting him to offer some kind of praise at my having accomplished this feat on the first try, I waggle my eyebrows. But he merely picks up the mounting block and stalks away. I don’t have the chance to ponder his behavior as Jericho begins his lesson. I’m forced to look ahead and focus on learning to steer Fireblood.

With Jericho leading, I round the fenced-in area twice before I glance over at Devlan. He’s leaning against the fence, and only looks up to check on me before going back to staring at the ground. He blows so hot and cold from day to day. I never know what to expect from him. But today, there’s obviously something wrong.

The next half-hour is exhausting, for Fireblood as well as for me. Jericho’s repetitive lessons on safety and balance have worn us both out, and I’m starting to wonder about Devlan’s remark on Fireblood’s nature. She’s given me little trouble. An amazing creature, she’s more patient with my lack of skill than she is stubborn.

I’m released to trot her slowly around the stable. As I near Devlan, I pull back on the reins and come to a stop. “I believe I have it down now.”

He looks up at me. “Oh, a few laps and suddenly you know all there is to riding.” He nods once, then waves his hand through the air. “By all means, take her out.” He points toward the gate.

Throwing the reins aside, I adjust my legs from around the lower pommel, turn sideways, and jump off the horse. It’s not the prettiest or cleanest dismount, and my frayed nerves don’t help, but I at least land steady on my feet. I march over, get right under his nose, and stare up at him.

“What is your problem, Devlan?” I’m annoyed at the tremor in my voice. “From one second to the next, I always do something to infuriate you. So, what is it this time?” I plant my hands on my hips. Glancing around to make sure Jericho isn’t nearby, I move closer to him, then say under my breath, “I’ve resigned myself to being addressed as ‘Princess.’ I’m doing as you instructed and accepted that my life is here, even having suppers with Sebastian.” I drop my voice into a whisper. “And I no longer carry my dagger.”

Through my whole rant, his face remains impassive, his eyes on me, unblinking—until I mention the dagger. At this his brows shoot up, and his eyes flick over my face. He presses his lips together into a stern line.

“So, you’ve decided to stay.” He looks away for a moment, then his eyes are back on me. “Does this mean you’ve come to your senses and realize it would be impossible, or”—he lowers his head and stares into my eyes—“have you fallen for the prince?”

My mouth drops open. “That is hardly your concern.” I bite the inside of my cheek before continuing. “My feelings for Sebastian are of no importance. The point is I’m doing what everybody, even you, demands of me.”

He shakes his head. “I have placed no demands on you, princess. I only asked you to make a decision, and hoped that your choice would be one where you remain here.”

“That is so vague, Devlan.” I study his brooding face. “Wishing me to stay surely implies that I am with Sebastian. I’m to marry him in less than two months.”

He shifts his stance. “Yes, but that does not require love.” His eyes bore into mine. “Do you love him?”

I hold his glare, his judgmental eyes hard on me. Anger pools in my stomach. “What difference does it make?”

He says nothing but continues to stare. Finally, he pulls his head back and brushes the hair from his forehead, breaking our eye contact. “None. You’re correct.” He turns away from me.

I latch onto his arm, halting him. He spins toward me, and my words are right on the tip of my tongue. I want to demand an explanation as to why he’s prying. But I’m too baffled by his behavior—too vexed to force them out. Instead, I release his arm and turn my back to him.

“I think I’ve had enough for today,” I say. “I’ll see myself back to the castle.”

“No.” He strides over to his horse and takes the reins. “You will not. I’m sorry, princess, but I’m still your guard.” He walks Fireblood toward the stable, and says over his shoulder, “Be here when I return.”

I watch him open the stable door and take his horse inside. I have half a mind to leave right now. Just storm off. How angry would he be finding me gone when he returns? But I don’t want to be the immature one. He is right, as he’s still responsible for me. My insides quiver, and I want to scream.

Why does it matter to him whether I care for Sebastian or not? Or have fallen in love with him, as he put it. How can you even fall for someone in a few days? And again, why is it any of his concern? I don’t think a first knight’s duty is meddling in his prince’s love life.

He has yet to tell me his side of the story between them. I wonder if, deep down, he still views Sebastian as his friend and is worried I’m all wrong for the prince. Still, if that were the case, wouldn’t he be making his complaint to Sebastian instead of harassing me?

After a long while where I’ve lost track of the minutes, he finally returns. The sun is nearly gone, evening is darkening the sky, and I’ve woven so many possibilities into my head I can barely think straight.

We walk in silence back toward the castle, passing knights as they leave the training grounds. I had plans to watch Sebastian’s last jousting practice, as today ends the training period before the tournament. But I didn’t want to deal with Cecily and the other ladies, nor did I wish to watch Sebastian bloody another knight with his version of sport.

“Do you require a change of clothes before supper?” Devlan asks from behind me.

I shake my head, taking my time responding. “Nay. I’ll have my supper sent up with Madity.” The idea of sitting and smiling with the court nobles tonight is exhausting. I’d rather have her company alone.

Devlan clears his throat. “Then I’ll inform the prince you’re tired from your lesson.”

I march through the long corridor toward my room, not caring if Devlan is still behind me or not. When I reach my door, I go to pull down the handle, but Devlan places his hand over mine.

“Wait,” he says.

I turn to him, doing as he asked. Waiting.

He runs his hand through his hair and exhales audibly. “I didn’t mean to upset you, princess.” He shifts his weight from foot to foot. “You’re right. Your relationship with Prince Sebastian is none of my concern. I only wished to gain the truth.”

“But why?” I ask. “And why have you been so evasive today? And last night…” My words trail off as I recall the cool look he gave me in the garden, and something occurs to me. Could Devlan be jealous? I nearly laugh out loud, and immediately dismiss the notion. Someone who is continually put off by a person would not have the slightest romantic inclination for them.

His eyes are hard on me as he looks me over. I feel the weight of his heavy thoughts bearing down on me, as if his eyes could reveal too many secrets all at once.

Finally, he says, “Trust your instincts, princess.” He cups my shoulders, and the heat of his body presses in on me, tempting me to step closer to that warmth. “Again, I apologize for my intrusiveness. Whatever you decide, I will always support you. And I will always protect you.” He releases me and backs away. Then he bows.

I open my mouth, unsure of what to say. Before I can utter a word, he turns on his heel and marches down the hallway. As I watch him go, I shake my head, trying to clear my muddled thoughts. Before stepping into my chamber, I glance once more down the corridor.

Devlan is at the end of the hallway, his hand braced against the wall, talking into his communicator. I quickly dip inside my room and peek around the wall. He slams his hand into the stone and backs away, looks down each hallway, and says something into his device. Then he puts it into his vest and stalks off at a fast pace.

This time, I decide I’m not too tired to discover what’s going on. I know Devlan has many secrets and, as he said to me, I plan to discover them.

I silently close my chamber door and briskly walk down the corridor after him. Tonight, I will find out at least one.

FIFTEEN

I’m relieved my riding shoes have thick padded soles. I easily slink along the corridors, my footsteps light, making little sound as I search for Devlan.

I saw him turn left down the hallway toward the back of the castle. I know I did, but now I’ve lost him. I look between the two corridors once I reach the open hall. Each passage is long, leading to either wing of the castle, and I could roam for hours before discovering I took the wrong one.

Damn it.

Avoiding knights, maids, and the courtiers of the castle is taxing. Finally, I decide to take the right. If nothing else, I’ll explore and learn my way around here. Or get lost, and have to call Devlan on the communicator and look like an idiot.

The torches cast creepy shadows along the corridor, and I walk for what feels like forever before finally reaching the end of the hallway. There’s only one way to take: back the way I came. It’s a dead end. Rooms along this end of the wing are empty, I suppose used for guests, but there is no one here.

I’m two seconds from turning around, ready to end my search, when I hear muffled voices. I freeze, straining to hear which room they’re coming from. But they don’t drift from a room. They’re coming from behind the wall—the dead end.

I place my hands to the stone. It’s cold and solid. A cool draft blows across my ankles, and I follow the chill air to the corner of the corridor. I press my hands along the crevice, feeling stupid. Then, something clicks, and the corner swings in, revealing a dark passage.

My heart hammers in my ears, and apprehension coils tightly around my chest. Devlan might not be here at all. This might be some secret room of the servants, or the Force. I could stumble into something that will get me tossed into the Oubliette or worse.

I consider what I’m about to do—sneak into some hidden chamber where I may learn things I never wanted to know—long and hard.

Curiosity wins out.

Against my better judgment, I force my fear away and take a step inside, beginning my descent. Stairs lead down a dark tunnel and only one torch is lit to guide my path. The voices grow louder the deeper I go. I can hear them, strained, angry. Footsteps pace back and forth.

With each footstep I grow braver until I reach the bottom step. I stop and press my back to the side of the narrow tunnel. Shadows flicker against the wall before me, and from around the corner the voices come clearly now.

A loud bang echoes as something slams. “You don’t get to make that call, Larkin.”

My heart constricts. It’s Devlan’s voice, and he’s shouting at the Round Table knight who stormed my home. I should leave now before I’m found out spying on their meeting.

“Devlan,” Larkin says, his voice gravelly. “You said it yourself. You’re not sure where her loyalties lie now.” He pauses a moment. “Her affections for the prince could play out in our favor. We should stick to the original plan.”

I grab my chest and squeeze my bodice. They’re talking about me.

Another voice, one I don’t recognize, says, “The original plan is no longer in play, as Micah is no longer the leader.”

“Oh, shut up, Xander,” Larkin says. “We get it. Stop reminding us your precious Fallon is in charge.” He huffs. “Wish I had bedded her. Maybe then I’d get to call some shots around here.”

“You fucking bastard,” the guy growls. There’s a hard smack, and shouting among all three breaks out.

“You hit me!” Larkin accuses. “You asshole. You’ve been here all of what…two days? And you think you can come in and change everything? Devlan should’ve never demoted your ass to footman. He should’ve thrown you out. Actually, I should just finish out my orders.” He laughs hollowly. “You were a sorry excuse for a knight of the Force, anyway.”

“What’s wrong, Larkin?” Xander asks. “Scared I’ll tie you to a tree and leave you there this time? Or that my girlfriend will kick your ass again?”

“Shut. Up,” Devlan shouts. “Both of you.”

“You’re not the commander anymore, Devlan.” Larkin chuckles mockingly. “And your first knight status doesn’t mean you get to call the shots, either.” A beat. “Why are you even here, Xander? Really?”

It’s silent a moment before Xander answers. “I have my reasons.”

There’s a long pause, and I hear Devlan’s footsteps pace again. His movements are shadows cast on the tunnel wall before me, shaky in the wavering torchlight. “I need to go to the camp. There’s something I need to discuss with Fallon.”

“That’s too dangerous,” the guy—Xander—says. “We have to be cautious.”

“I don’t care,” Devlan says. “It’s important to assess new information before I proceed.”

“I say we off her tonight,” Larkin says. I slap my hand over my mouth. “If what you say is true, Devlan, that will weigh heavily in our favor. That is the mission, remember?” He pauses. “To get closer, gain access to Excalibur. Or are you a coward now?”

“The mission, Larkin,” Devlan says, frustration lacing his voice, “was to wait until after the wedding.”

Oh, my God. No, no, no.

I stumble back, and my backside hits the stone steps hard.

“This meeting is over for now,” Xander says. “Before you get too carried away, Larkin, Devlan and I will find a way to meet with Fallon.”

Their footsteps quicken and I panic. They’re moving toward the tunnel. As quietly as I can, my limbs shaking, I climb the stairs. I reach the secret door but before I push through, I glance over my shoulder making sure I’m clear—

—and meet Devlan’s eyes.

We stare at each other, his eyes wide, my breath struggling past my lips. He turns toward the other knights. “You two take the back way,” he says. “We need to make sure both are clear.” Then he races up the steps.

I don’t think.

I run.

Whatever their plan, whatever reason I’m to be killed, doesn’t matter. He knows I know, and he’s coming for me.

He’s going to kill me.

“Zara!” Devlan calls out.

I barrel down the hallway and round the corner into the back hall. He’s fast. I know he is. He’s going to catch me.

I don’t stop, and I don’t look behind me. I have no idea where I’m going to go, but I need to get away. It comes to me quickly. My chamber. I turn into the hallway leading to my room and run faster, my legs pumping. My dress tangles between my legs and I grab it up, forcing it above my thighs as I ignore the aching burn in my calves.

His footfalls sound closer, but I don’t turn to look. As I come up on my room, his arms wrap around my waist and pull me to a stop. His hand clamps over my mouth, muffling the scream I barely work through my stinging throat. I kick and struggle as he hauls me inside my room.

“Stop,” he pants into my ear. “Please, Zara. Just listen.”

I twist and push against him, but his hold on me is solid. I could do this all night and he’d kill me eventually. I fall limp in his arms. I need him to release me so I can get away. I nod against his hand.

He takes in a deep breath. “I’m going to release you. Don’t scream.” He removes his hand from over my mouth, then drops his arms. “Sit down.”

The hell I will.

I quickly scan my room. My choice is made. I’m getting out of here. For all I know, Sebastian is part of this sadistic plan. I can’t trust any of them. My father was right. Something is very, very wrong here, and I have to get out.

I turn and knee him in the groin. Hard. He drops to his knees. “You really don’t know me, Devlan.”

I race over to my desk while Devlan is still holding himself and pick up my wooden chair. It’s heavy, but I’m able to lift it high enough to get leverage, then I drop it on his head. He hits the floor face first. I scramble to the ground, reach inside his vest pocket, and yank out his keychain. I stand and kick him in the head for good measure.

Cursing myself for not having packed a bag, I grab the only things of importance: a pair of sturdier shoes and my father’s dagger. I strap the leather sheath around my thigh, slam the dagger into it, and fly through the doorway.

I hurriedly move down the corridor toward the atrium. It’s the closest way out, and on the side of the castle nearest the stable. When I reach the glass door, I slide the giant rusted key into the lock, the same way I’ve seen Devlan do many times. I don’t have time to worry about the Eyes. I have to get out.

Dim lanterns sway in the breeze, barely lighting my way. Once I reach the stable fence, I climb over the railing and run toward the door. It’s eerily quiet. Fear prickles my skin, and my hand shakes as I bring the key ring out. I push the key into the lock and turn. The latch opens and I stare at the dial pad. Will Sebastian’s code work with Devlan’s key?

I close my eyes and bounce up and down, thinking. If I put in his code and it triggers some kind of alarm, I’m done. I’m seconds away from taking off on foot when I realize I don’t have anything to lose. Devlan has probably already gathered the Force to hunt me down.

I hit the numbers.

The green beam shoots out the top of the door. I nearly collapse as relief floods me. The door slides open and I hurry inside. I don’t have to pause and think about which horse to take.

A horse with determination to match my own.

I unlatch the gate to Fireblood. I don’t waste time with the saddle, but I climb the gate to work the bit into her giant jaws and fix the bridle, then jump on top of her, legs straddling either side. My legs squeeze her sides as I pull the reins. She takes a few steps back, unsure of my command, but then she snorts and walks toward the open door.

As we head toward the gate, I curse. I should have opened it before I went into the stable. I stop her right next to the fence and dismount, sloppily, falling to my knees. I scramble up to the gate and yank the latch open. Climbing to the top railing to mount Fireblood once more, I look up and spot Devlan. He’s running at full speed toward the stable fence.

“Come on, girl,” I say. “Time to run like there’s fire at our heels.” I grip her mane and jump onto her back, then kick hard, and she sprints through the gate.

Darkness swallows me. The moon is half-full and shrouded by treetops. The grass is gray and flat before me, the night veiling the curves of the earth. The black sky is laced with the faint blue lines, and they dimly light my way. I want to pull the reins, slow us down, but I trust the horse knows what to do. We hit a hollow and I nearly tumble off. Fireblood bounds on, and I sink against her back, letting her lead.

We forge on toward the open plain, and the moon brightens. I glance back, just once, and wish I hadn’t. Devlan follows not far behind on Hawken. He’s just hit the open plain and is gaining on me. I kick my heels and deepen my seat, launching Fireblood into a full gallop. “Come on.”

The treeline just before the wall is coming up on us, and I know it’s not long before we near the opening Sebastian took me through that leads to the meadow. Once I’m through, I can try to lose Devlan in the forest.

We enter the trees and the moonlight wanes. The darkness is thick, and I beg Fireblood to see the way. We can’t slow now. Branches reach out, grabbing at my hair and dress, but I sink closer to the horse and squeeze my eyes shut for a moment. “Just get us there, girl.”

I hear the trickle of water and rise up just enough to see the shimmer of moonlight in the winding brook. I dig my heels into her side, commanding Fireblood to enter. The boulders breaking the surface of the water are slick, and Fireblood’s hooves search for footing. She whinnies and dances back, refusing to cross the stream.

“Please, girl,” I plead. “We can do it.” I kick my heels, and she stamps forward, pushing off the bank and splashing her hooves into the dark water.

We’re nearly to the crumbled opening when a splash sounds from behind. I jerk my head around and see Devlan and Hawken coming up on us quick. “Go!” I kick her harder, and she digs her hooves into the riverbed.

Fireblood wavers to the side, her footing unsteady. I lose my balance and my grip on the reins. As I’m about to go over, arms reach out and grab me, pulling me off the horse and into the river. I land on top of Devlan. “Ow.”

The cold water rushes past my skin, and Devlan’s arms grip my waist tighter as I fight against him. “Ow?” he pants hard. “You landed on me.”

I elbow his side. “Get off.”

“No.” He circles his arms around me.

The freezing water rises to my waist as he traps my arms under his hold. I stop my struggle. I’ve lost. I know it. I’ve come so far, risked so much, and failed. “Just…” I stutter out, my will gone, lost as the adrenaline leaves my body and is replaced by resignation. “Just do it quickly.” Tears sting the corners of my eyes. I refuse to hold them back. My body shakes, wracked with sobs and shaking from the biting water.

Devlan sighs into the back of my hair. His arms loosen, and he folds me into him. His hand cradles my head to his chest. “I’m not going to kill you. No one is.”

I shake my head against him, loathing the comfort I feel from his arms, and slam my fist against his shoulder. “Don’t lie to me. I heard you. I heard all of you.”

Fear gives me one last surge of adrenaline and, ignoring the icy water and my shaking limbs, I elbow his ribs. He releases his hold on me and I bound up, splashing my way toward the hole in the wall.

Hunching, I crawl through and take off in a sprint. I’m just entering the meadow when his arms circle me. I stamp his foot, and he curses. Spinning on him, I shakily lift the hem of my dress and unsheathe my dagger.

Devlan’s eyes lock onto mine. “Zara. Don’t.”

I hold the blade out, my arm locked taut, and place one foot in front of the other, moving to the side of him. “I’m not afraid to use this.” I lift my chin, forcing false bravado into my voice.

He lowers his hands and stands straight, tall. “Then use it.”

“I just want to leave. You’ll never hear from me again. Just let me go.” I glance around at the trees, remembering the Eyes. “And use your communicator to call your knights and the Force. Stop them from pursuing me as long as you can.” I raise the dagger, making my point.

“There are no Eyes here. Sebastian and I disabled them when we were kids. And we made sure the monitors never noticed a missing section.” His mouth hikes up on one side. “We were good at escaping back then.”

Relieved, I begin to back away, putting one foot behind me. I stumble over a root, taking my eyes off him only for a moment. He springs forward and grabs my wrist, forcing my dagger hand out to the side. I struggle as he pushes me into a tree. My back scrapes against the rough bark, snagging my dress.

Devlan secures both my wrists, pinning my hands above my head. His breath is heavy, coming out in hard clips as he stares down at me. His face mere inches from mine. “You misunderstood what you heard back there.”

I force my head up and stare into his eyes. “I don’t care how you try to spin it. You said I was to be offed after the wedding.” My chest rises and falls against him, taking in deep breaths. “How, Devlan, did I misinterpret that?”

His blue eyes bore into mine, pale as the moonlight. The freezing water from the stream soaked my skirt, and it clings to my thighs. I shiver. Whether from the fierce look in his eyes or the cold, I’m not sure.

“Larkin’s a fool.” He shakes his head. “He only brought that up to get a rise out of me. He’s a bastard. He knows the mission has been changed.”

“What mission?” I shudder again as the biting night air seeps through my wet dress. “King Hart brought me here to be killed? I don’t understand. Why even bother with a wedding?”

“Zara.” He breathes my name, his breath warming my skin. “I don’t serve King Hart.”

“What?”

His lips press into a firm line, and his eyes widen as they steal over my shock. “I’m a Rebel.”

SIXTEEN

I shake, my body wracked with cold, making it difficult to stand. My mind spins with thoughts of King Hart and Rebels and torture devices. My legs tremble and give out, almost dropping me to the forest floor.

Devlan links one arm under my legs, the other around my shoulders, and sweeps me up. I wrap my arms around his neck as the quick motion nearly sends me forward. My dagger dangles loosely from my hand against his shoulder.

I savor the body heat he provides before we reach the river bank and he deposits me on one of the logs, the same one I sat on the day Sebastian brought me here. The night air presses on my wet dress, and I feel like I’m wrapped in sheets of ice.

He stands beside me and looks down. “You’re cold.” He removes his vest, then his gray tunic. The moonlight washes his bare chest in pale light, the shadows accentuating his lean muscles. I turn my head, forcing my eyes away, but can’t help peeking. He turns around to place his vest on the log and his back catches the light. A large scar slices down his left shoulder blade toward the middle of his back.

My heart thuds against my breastbone. I avert my eyes and sheath my dagger. Whatever made that mark must have been painful. As he turns around, I jerk my head sharply and look toward the woods. “Here.” He comes up beside me. “Lift your arms.”

I’m too cold to fight him. I lift my arms and he slips his tunic over my head. It’s twice, maybe three times the size of me, but it still carries his body heat. I wrap my arms around my stomach, drawing in the warmth. His scent—the sweetness I can never pin down—fills my senses and my chest tightens. I used to associate it and the smell of mint and forest with the protection I felt from him. Now it infuses me with fear.

He sits on the log beside me and stares. Silent. It’s going to drive me mad.

“Were you planning to elaborate on your confession?” My stomach knots with unease at being so near a traitor, but I forge on. “Or is that as much of an explanation as I’m to get?”

He pushes his dark hair back and looks at the vest in his lap, then pulls it over his head. I’m relieved I don’t have to stare at his chest anymore. But his bare arms, flexing as he grips and re-grips his hands, wringing them, are still distracting.

Finally, he says, “I planned to unveil things much later.” He palms his thighs and leans forward. “But your snooping doesn’t give me much choice now.”

I don’t deny it. I was snooping. I straighten my back and raise an eyebrow, urging him on.

“What you, and most citizens for that matter, don’t know is that there is an ever-present uprising in Karm.” His brow creases. “The Rebels have been players in a silent war ever since a battle took place between us and the Force. It was after the Rebels lost that we chose to attack from the inside to bring down the barrier.” He takes a deep breath. “And this is the closest we’ve ever been to seeing that realized.”

I shake my head. “How do I not know about this? How does everyone not know about this?”

“Because, the last time the Rebels exposed themselves and fought against the Force hundreds were slaughtered.” He hangs his head. “The memory of that war has been buried. All those old enough to remember? Gone. Disposed of. The Rebels were nearly all taken out, too. The technology Hart possesses is something no one has seen since the Final War. And it’s something we can only access by getting to King Hart.” He laughs hollowly and looks up. “But as you know, no one can get to him. No one knows where he, or the mainframe that controls Karm, is.”

I grip my sides tighter, my head swimming with confusion and questions I want answered immediately, but I stay quiet. I’ve never heard Devlan speak so much, or so passionately, about anything.

“We’ve worked hard to be unseen, make them believe there’s only a small group so that King Hart believes the threat is close to being eliminated. It’s the only way we’re going to get someone close enough to him.”

“I can understand wanting change for Karm”—every time the Force beat my father, I prayed for it—“but why the barrier? What about Outside? Why are you risking so much for a wasteland? And one that is rumored to be dangerous?” I suck in a breath. “What if you succeed and it’s worse out there than in here? I mean, at least here there’s vegetation and food and we’re protected from monsters.” I’m surprised the words have left my mouth. After all my fervent arguments about change, this should sound like the answer. But it’s the truth. What are they fighting so hard to get to?

He exhales heavily, the air fogging as it passes his lips. “There’s just too much to explain.” He drives his hand through his hair, frustrated. Then he rises and extends his hand. “Come on. We could talk all night and by dawn there’d still be more to tell.”

I push his hand aside. “I’m not going anywhere until I get some straight answers, Devlan.” I rise to stand before him, my head angled back to meet his shadowed eyes. “Just tell me this. What I heard tonight, if the Rebels are the ‘good guys,’ how could you kill me? I’ve done nothing—am no one.”

His eyes are hard on mine. “You were to be the key.”

Taking a step back, I wrap my arms around myself and shrink against his steady glare. “I’m not a key…whatever that means.”

He steps closer and extends his hand again. “We should be moving.” He glances around, and I’m suddenly wary. I ignore his hand and instead jerk my head sideways, motioning him to walk ahead of me.

He releases a groan and backs away. “Wait here.”

Disappearing through the crumbled opening of the wall, he leaves me behind in the dark with only the crickets and trickling of the river. Before I have time to fear the unknown of the forest, he returns with Fireblood in tow.

“What about the Eyes in the castle? And what about Hawken? Shouldn’t I bring her?” The thought of being away from Court excites me.

“I have it covered.”

I study his assured features, and decide he does. Will I be able to escape him once we’re farther away? It’s a chance I’m willing to take.

He sets off and I walk just behind him, off to his side, as he leads Fireblood. “Believe me”—he unsheathes his sword and knocks a low limb aside as he clears our path—“I had no knowledge of the former leader’s plan. Even if Micah was still here, once the mission was to take place, I’d have stopped it. I won’t allow anyone to harm you.”

“But I still don’t understand. Who’s Micah? And why me? I don’t know anything.”

He cuts down a vine. “We don’t know how much Sebastian knows of King Hart’s operation. But regardless, he is to be King. Whether he knows everything now or not, soon Hart will prepare Sebastian to take over. We needed to get someone close to the prince. Someone he’d trust. Someone who could gain access through Sebastian to Hart’s operation.”

I step over a root as understanding dawns. “And that was me. But how could I do this if I was dead?”

“No,” he says. “It was me.” He turns on me. His face clouds over in the wan moonlight. “I had a close relationship with him once. The day I left Court, the Rebels recruited me, and it’s since been my mission to train and get back on the inside.”

I hold his stare. What happened between them for Devlan to so easily side against his former friend and join the Rebels? “I’m more confused.”

“I know.” He again turns and swipes his sword at the brush, moving us through the forest. “This won’t work. This is why I was trying to take my time with you.” He tugs Fireblood’s reins, leading her over a fallen limb. “I should never have allowed Larkin to come back. God, I hate that guy.”

“Just tell me.”

“Fine, Zara.”

His use of my name gains my full attention, and I move closer to his side.

“Micah, the previous leader of the Rebels, had a plan in effect. She thought disposing of you would make Sebastian distraught, and he’d seek solace in his former best friend.” He points to himself for clarity. “That he’d become so vengeful against the Rebels, he’d bring me into his counsel to formulate a counterstrike against them.”

My mouth drops open. “That’s sick.”

“Yeah, it was a sadistic plan. Micah was losing her mind to the Virus.” He shakes his head. “That plan would never have been carried out. I wouldn’t have let it.” He cranes his neck and his eyes trail over me. “You have to trust me. I would’ve killed Larkin with my bare hands before he ever placed one on you.”

The shimmering river catches his irises, and I can only see the depth of his eyes—hear the conviction in his voice. “I believe you.”

Nodding once, he returns to sweeping the forest floor with his sword. Fireblood huffs and bats a tree limb aside with her head. “Larkin’s angry with the change in command. He’s committed his whole life to the Rebels. Regardless of his stupidity, he won’t disobey orders. He was just trying to push me tonight. It’s been frustrating trying to adapt to Fallon as our new leader.” He groans and cuts down a vine. “But I need to speak with her. Ever since you came here, I’ve seen the mission clearly.”

“And what’s that?”

He halts and faces me. “I don’t think I’m the one at all.” His eyes seek me through the darkness. “You’re the one who can get close to Sebastian, and through him, King Hart.”

I jump backward and hold my hands up. “Oh, no. No, no. I don’t have anything to do with this. You and your band of Rebels…just no.” I lace my arms across my chest. “I only wanted to get away—to not have to marry Sebastian. To not have to look over my shoulder every time I sneezed, worried someone would lock me away, or torture me for stepping out of line. I’m not looking to sign up for your crazy mission.” I mock-laugh. “It’s suicide.”

Ignoring my rant, he cleaves another branch, and the forest reveals a cleared area ahead.

“Devlan, stop. I want to go back.” I’m shocked that the words have left my mouth, but they’re true. I want to be out of the forest and somewhere I can think clearly. “How far have we gone?”

“I think it’s better to show you.” He sheaths his sword. “I can try to convince you all night and we’ll get nowhere. You need to see with your own eyes.”

He mounts Fireblood and lowers his hand to me.

I study it, not sure what to do. Glancing over my shoulder, I look back through the dense forest, as if I can see beyond it and past the wall—to the castle. Then I look up at him. “How do I know you’re not taking me off to kill me?” I wrap my arms around my waist tighter, grabbing fistfuls of his tunic. “You’ve exposed yourself, and now I know too much. How can I trust that you’re not going to get rid of me because I won’t help you?”

His lips twitch into a side-grin. “I guess you can’t.” He extends his hand closer to me. “But don’t you think if that were my plan, I’d have done so by now?”

I raise my eyebrows, vexed.

He sighs. “I promise. No harm will come to you. You have my word.”

“That’s not good enough. From your own admission, you’ve lied to many people.” I eye him.

He matches the intensity of my glare. “You have my word on my parents’ lives, no one will hurt you.”

My face scrunches. “I thought your parents were…” I trail off. It’s still ingrained in me not to speak of the Taken. “I thought they were dead.”

“In a sense, they are. But in another, they are very much alive.” His face hardens. “Do you want the truth or not?”

I take his hand, and he pulls me atop Fireblood. “I do.” I have to know what he means about his parents. I’m probably making the biggest mistake of my life. I’ll probably not return alive. Either way, there’s no going back to my life unchanged. I have to take the chance.

I have to know the truth.

He turns his head toward me and smiles, like he knew my choice all along. “Then let’s go.”

I latch my arms around him. “First, tell me where we’re going.”

He kicks her sides, and Fireblood takes off. Through the whistling in my ears, he says, “The Rebel camp.”

SEVENTEEN

It’s the first time in nearly a week I’ve been this far away from Court, and my hands tremble. It feels much longer. I wrap my arms tighter around Devlan. Fireblood slows to a steady trot as we enter another dense section of the forest.

Certain things about Devlan are becoming clear. His dialogue, for one. I noticed he’d slip into more modern speech—something my father did at times—when we were alone. My father warned all the time to be cautious of this. Though he’d sneak me books from the old world, I was never to speak the way the characters did.

What if this camp has books and others things, like movies or clothes, that my father told me still exist? A place against the rule of King Hart. Maybe I’ll learn of things my father refused to explain for fear of being accused of treason.

We move slowly through the forest, creeping through the thick brush, and too many questions fill my head. I have to pace myself.

I remember thinking Devlan was jealous of Sebastian. My assumptions for all his strange behavior couldn’t have been further off. While I was right to toss aside the thought he could have romantic notions for me, I could’ve never come to the conclusion he was scouting me to be part of his Rebel mission.

I shake my head. The idea of me…me lurking around the castle like some spy, like one of the characters I’ve read about in my banned books. I almost laugh out loud, the thought is so preposterous.

“Will you answer me something else?” I ask Devlan.

“I can try.”

“Did you truly believe I could carry out your crazy mission?”

He’s quiet a moment. “Yes. And I still believe you can.” He adjusts the reins in one hand so he can rest the other on his thigh. “I wouldn’t have been spending so much time training you to ride, prepping you to use your mind and body to be aware of things, if I didn’t feel you were worth the investment.”

My stomach sinks. I’m nothing but an “investment” to him. Does he even see me as a real person who could lose her life? Or am I only a chess piece to be maneuvered? “Well, you’re sadly mistaken. Not that I’m not humbled by your flattery of my talents.” I roll my eyes behind his back. “But you’ve given me no reason to risk my life for your cause.”

“Trust me, Zara,” he says, and it’s still strange hearing my name from his lips. “You will be given plenty of reason by this night’s end.”

I allow him to think so. I can’t argue in the middle of the woods from the back of a horse. After he unveils this big secret, I’ll graciously decline his offer of an early death and try to figure out what to do next.

Recalling his words to me at the meadow, I toss them around my head, then piece them together again. I don’t understand what taking down the barrier will accomplish other than possibly making our life worse than it is inside Karm. Since their falling-out, maybe Devlan has learned nothing of Sebastian’s hidden desires to change things. I wonder if I could convince Devlan that I can sway Sebastian’s rule. If he believes I can become close enough in order to get near King Hart, surely he’ll trust that I can convince Sebastian to make things better in the kingdom. That seems a more logical plan than taking down the barrier so everyone suffers.

If I can’t convince him, how am I going to face Sebastian knowing that his first knight, the person he trusts more than anyone, is plotting against him? How can I look Sebastian in the eyes knowing that one day Devlan could turn on him? For now, the Rebels want King Hart, but soon Sebastian will be King and will have the knowledge they seek. It will only be a matter of time before they plot against Sebastian.

A shiver shoots through my body. No matter how arrogant and vain Sebastian is, he’s not deserving of me working with the Rebels to destroy him. I can’t be a part of this.

Before my mind can swallow me whole, consumed with dark, impossible thoughts, Devlan lays his hand over mine. “Hold tight.”

I barely have time to adjust my grip before he kicks his heels and we’re racing at breakneck speed through the forest. It’s less thick here, but there’re still too many trees, and I can’t clearly see the path he’s taking. I rest my cheek against his back and force my eyes closed.

When we finally slow, I open my eyes and gasp. Twinkling lights clutter the forest before me. Small flames burn in the distance. My chest constricts. I probably won’t come away from this place unscathed.

Or alive.

Devlan’s hand clasps mine. “Time to unhorse.” He helps me down first before he jumps off. Grabbing the reins, he turns toward me. “Take out your dagger.”

“Here?” I glance around. It’s farther into the forest than I’ve ever been. Most likely on the outskirts of Karm, close to the barrier. I widen my eyes at him. “Are you sure that’s wise? Won’t I be attacked walking into a camp full of armed Rebels carrying a weapon?”

His lips curl up on one side. “For once, just do as I say.” He starts walking toward the camp.

I scramble to unsheathe my dagger and hold it against my thigh, tucked under my forearm. I don’t want to be shot with an arrow or impaled by a sword as soon as I enter, so I keep it hidden.

Brown tents scatter the wooded area and campfires burn low, their embers lighting the camp in an eerie glow. Smoke and earth and the faint scent of jasmine fill the air. I swallow hard as we near the grounds, my throat thick and scratchy from the chill ride. It’s far too quiet. My senses go on high alert.

A snap sounds from behind us.

“State your order,” a deep voice says.

Devlan freezes. “Silas, it’s me, Devlan. Do I really have to recite that long-ass number?” He turns around, a wide smile on his face. A similar smile to the one he wore as he held me in the mud.

I slowly turn and face the man with the booming voice. He’s so tall that I have to angle my head uncomfortably to see his face. He’s bald and has a long white scar carving the side of his face. He wears dark clothing, masking him against the night.

Silas laughs. “Well, Devlan. Damn, son. What are you doing here?” He slaps Devlan’s back. “You know, I thought you abandoned us. Micah didn’t inform me—” He cuts off sharply as his gaze finds me. “What the hell is she doing here?”

“Zara,” Devlan says. “Please show Silas your dagger.”

Sweat beads across my brow. I’m about to do the stupidest thing—pull out a weapon on this giant man. I shakily extend my hand, revealing my father’s dagger. I lay it flat in my palm, hilt pointed out, so it doesn’t look like I intend to use it.

Silas’s eyes widen. “That crazy bitch.”

I’m taken aback, nearly dropping the dagger to the forest floor. Is he implying I’m a…? Before I finish the thought, Devlan says, “Yeah, Micah was. Imagine my surprise when I discovered it.” He runs his hand through his hair. “I need to speak with Fallon.”

Silas nods. “I think she’ll be interested in this development.” He waves his hand before us, ushering us forward.

I’m erupting with questions, wanting to demand knowledge of what they’re talking about, but I clamp my mouth shut. I have to be wise and figure out this scenario without getting myself deeper in the mess I’ve landed in.

We head toward a tent in the middle of the camp. Silas pulls back the flap, and suddenly, my feet won’t take me another step farther. I’m rigid with fear. Devlan moves beside me. “Zara, I promised that no one would harm you.” He takes my hand. “You have to trust me.”

I look down at our joined hands. I don’t trust him. I barely know him, and what I do know has proven that he isn’t really trustworthy. But I’ve come too far, have too many questions to stop now, and I don’t have a choice. I’m in the middle of a secret Rebel encampment with nowhere to run.

I step into the tent.

Candles burn low on a desk to my right. A girl stands in the center of the tent, dressed all in black, her dark hair pulled into a tight bun. Her face is partially shadowed, but she looks familiar. I squint, trying to recall where I’ve seen her before.

Silas nods to Devlan. “Fallon, the first knight has graced us with his presence.” He looks at Devlan. “A surprise appearance.”

“Devlan,” the girl says. “It’s nice to finally meet you face to face.” She beams at him, and suddenly I recall where I’ve seen her. The girl in the cream dress from my betrothal celebration. I suck in a sharp breath.

“Fallon.” Devlan nods once, dipping his head low. “Likewise to you. Sorry circumstances were as such we couldn’t meet properly at the betrothal.” He pulls me alongside him, bringing me before her. “This is Princess Zara.” He takes the dagger out of my other hand. “And I trust you know what this is.”

Her dark eyes go wide. “How is that possible?” She shakes her head. “Micah knew…she had to have…” She slams her hand on the desk and I flinch. “Dammit.” She looks down at her desk for a moment, then raises her eyes to me. “Well, I suppose it’s a good thing we changed the mission.”

Really? She supposes it’s a good thing they didn’t kill me? What have I gotten myself into? What is it about my father’s dagger that causes so much interest? I’m nearly ready to pull at my hair and demand to know when Fallon looks at Devlan and says, “That doesn’t explain what she’s doing here, though.”

Devlan clears his throat, and Silas closes the tent flap. My nerves are about to consume me. I finally work up the courage to speak. “I would like to know the same.” I turn to Devlan.

“Well?” Fallon prompts. “Before we’re raided by the Force to take back the princess.”

Devlan shakes his head. “No one is aware she’s gone. I had Xander inform her maid she was tired from her horseback lesson and requested to rest for the night.” He waves his communicator. “He’s keeping watch over her chamber now.”

“That’s at least a relief,” she says with a small smile. “And how’s Xander doing back on the inside?”

Devlan straightens, as if he’s about to give a report to his commander—which I suppose he is. “Xander’s demotion didn’t raise any questions, and he goes unnoticed by the rest of the knights. He’ll be able to keep a low profile as a footman.”

Fallon nods. “All right. Good.”

“I’d like to know what his part is,” Devlan says. Fallon raises her eyebrows. “If I’m to lead a new mission, I need to know how to direct Xander.”

She schools her features, but I glimpse concern in her eyes before Fallon regards Devlan with a hard stare. “That information is classified—at least, until Xander decides it’s not.”

Devlan’s brows furrow, but he says respectfully, “Yes ma’am.”

“And remember, Devlan,” Fallon continues. “You’re to lead the new mission, but Xander is now my second in command. You’ll answer to him if I send new orders.” Devlan nods, and Fallon returns her gaze to me. “I assume she doesn’t know anything. Huh.” She stares at the ground a moment. “But, I think I can connect the dots, Devlan. I see where we can take this.”

I glance between them, wondering how anyone is connecting anything. “Would someone please tell me something?” I plead, upset that my voice shakes.

Devlan releases a heavy breath and turns toward me. He hands me the dagger, wrapping my fingers around the hilt. “This…that you hold in your hand”—his eyes capture mine—“is a very powerful symbol. It belonged to the Rebel who coordinated the first uprising.”

My mouth drops open, ready to deny his claim, but he presses on. “Your father.”

“No,” I say, barely above a whisper. I turn my back on them and say with more conviction, “No.”

“Yes, Zara.” He places a hand on my shoulder. “Your father was the first Rebel leader.”

EIGHTEEN

I jerk out of Devlan’s grasp. Whirling around, I stare first at Fallon’s downcast eyes avoiding me, then at Devlan, his features etched with pity. Anger sears my chest. “No.” I shake my head. “You’re lying. My father was a farmer—a cloner. You’re mistaken.”

No one responds. Devlan only continues to watch me with sympathy lacing his eyes. I wish he’d argue—be the stubborn ass he always is—but he just stares at me. Unexpectedly, Fallon steps forward.

“Zara,” she says, and my head whips in her direction. “The leader before me spent many years prepping me. And this”—she raises her hand and points to a silver ring—“was your father’s.” A sad smile slides across her face. My gaze moves to the band and my heart aches with familiarity.

“It was his wedding band,” she continues. “The dagger marked him as the leader. It bears the Rebel crest and his given name’s initials. But when he chose to leave, he took the dagger to always have proof of who he was, and gave Micah the ring as the marker. A strong reminder of our mission and what we stand for.”

My eyes slip over the ring. It catches the candlelight, glinting as she slowly fans her hand back and forth. When I took the dagger from under the floorboard, I’d studied the ring my father also kept there. It had my father’s name inscribed on the inside of the band: Rorick.

I take a step closer to Fallon. “Show me the inscription. If it’s his ring, my mother’s name will be inscribed on the band.”

Her eyes scan my face, and I see sorrow in them. My chest tightens. She slides the ring off her finger and hands it to me. I take a deep breath, then hold it up to the candlelight, my hand trembling. Inside the silver band, letters spell out a name. Carmen. My mother.

I palm the ring, squeezing it as my eyes burn. I shake my head once and forcefully hand Fallon back the ring. The tent air is suddenly stale and suffocating. I barge through the tent flaps. The cool night air engulfs me, and I drink it in, cleanse my lungs of the fiery ache.

How could he hide this from me?

“He was trying to protect you,” Devlan says from behind me, answering my unspoken question. My head snaps his way. Devlan stands with his hand resting on his hilt. I say nothing and walk away from the camp toward the woods. I don’t want to be near anyone who knows these secrets of the man who raised me. Not before I can understand them first.

He follows, his footsteps matching mine. “I’m sorry I didn’t put it together sooner. None of us knew his true name. We’re just told what initials to look for with the crest.” He pauses for a beat. “But with your age, and your father’s name…I should have made the connection.”

I look to the sky, continuing my slow trek. “You and me both.”

“Your mother was a Rebel, too,” he says. “She was rumored to be fierce.”

I stop and lean my shoulder against a tree, keeping my back to him. “My whole life has been a lie. But it’s good to know I officially have nowhere to go, nowhere to belong.” I bow my head. “Can you please leave me alone now?”

“I’m sorry, but no. We don’t have enough time, Zara.”

I nearly laugh. Time. That is something none of us have enough of.

“It’s all so recent,” I say, as if to myself while I ponder the reality that our world—this realm—hasn’t been functioning as long as I believed. If my father was the first Rebel leader, then Karm hasn’t existed long. How did King Hart wipe out the old customs so thoroughly?

I answer my own question as I think back on all the punishments, the tales of monsters and starvation and the impossibility of survival Outside. King Hart is far more ruthless and meticulous than I ever thought possible.

Devlan places his hand on the tree above my head, so close I could move just a fraction and lean against him instead. “After your mother was killed during a mission,” he says, “your father was distraught. Story is, he promised your mother that, if anything ever happened to her, he’d retire and raise you away from the rebellion.” He pauses, his fingers scrape at the bark. “After she died, he truly wanted to do nothing but give you a life that, if only for a short while, you could live happily.”

My mind catches up to his words, and I turn and face him. “My mother was Taken,” I argue. “I watched the Force drag her, screaming obscenities, from our home.”

“It was a ruse.” He lowers his face so that I can see his eyes in the glowing campfire. “She was a plant for the Rebels. Although she was discovered, her death wasn’t in vain. Because of her we now know the Force has a testing procedure for the Virus.”

A tear escapes down my cheek. I turn my back to him again and I let it fall. Everything in my life has been a lie. “So, my mother didn’t want me brought into this. But my father gave me the dagger,” I counter. “Why would he give it to me if he promised to keep me away? He must have known at some point I’d discover the truth.”

Devlan moves in front of me, his eyes finding mine. “I don’t know, but that dagger gives you our protection, so I’m sure he had his reason. And the ring? It’s a symbol of what we fight for. A reminder of all that has been and continues to be taken away. It’s what I fight for.”

My breath shudders out, fogging as it passes my lips. One thing occurs to me. “Then, my mother wasn’t Taken. She wasn’t mad.”

He shakes his head slowly. “She wasn’t. She fought hard…for you.”

His words wrap around me, comforting and solid, like the strength the dagger gives me. My mother wasn’t mad. My father endured cruelty at the hands of the Force to raise me. Yet I’m the orphan of two Rebels, who is to marry the son of the king they fought against.

I close my eyes and shake my head at the bitter irony. “At least my father won’t have to watch me marry King Hart’s son,” I say. “I suppose there are some small—” My words stop short when I open my eyes and see Devlan’s rigid features.

His brows pull together. “There’s something else I brought you here to see.”

His words slam against my chest like a mallet, and I press my hand to my heart. “Just tell me, Devlan.” I pull air into my lungs. “I don’t think I can take another shock right now.”

“Please, just come.” His eyes beckon me to trust him.

I do. Somehow, since the first day he told me to keep strong, I have trusted his guidance, whether I knew it or not. I follow him back to the campground as he leads me toward a tent in the far back. It’s strange that here he no longer keeps up his knightly duties following me.

A realization occurs to me. What if I continue to refuse to join them? Their original plan was to off me and use Sebastian’s grief as a way to get Devlan close to the prince. They will have no need of me. I can’t just wander back inside Court harboring this kind of knowledge. I shiver.

Devlan said he’d have never allowed that plan to go through. I wonder how much sway he truly has here. And Fallon? Who is she? Would she really see killing one small girl as being that big of a deal in comparison to the war she’s waging?

Devlan’s suspiciousness when he asked if I’d fallen for Sebastian slams into me. He was feeling out my loyalties. I wrap my arms around myself and stare at his back. He’s been slowly grooming me to be the one to get close to Sebastian. But if I was falling for the prince, that would be the fatal flaw in his plan. He wouldn’t be able to trust that I could go through with it and keep the truth from someone I love.

I know this, because I would question the exact same thing.

All these worries swirl inside my head as I try to figure a way out of this limbo and the many pressing dangers. I walk as if in slow motion toward a large brown tent. Somehow, I have to convince Devlan that I’m not the one for the job, but also maintain that I won’t reveal their secrets to Sebastian.

I can keep that promise; I plan to be far away from the castle, Sebastian, and this whole scheme the first chance I get to escape.

Devlan stops before a huge brown tent, and I take a breath, bracing myself for his newest surprise when he pulls back the flaps.

My jaw drops.

Monitors are everywhere—flashing blue and green screens. Wires drip from the top of the tent and run along the dirt-packed ground. People walk back and forth, and some are seated in front of the screens, hitting keys on boards before them. Towers, like ones I’ve seen in old magazines my father showed me, sit in the corners, blinking green and blue lights.

I look at Devlan. “What is all this?”

He cocks his head. “It’s Mordred. Our headquarters.” He walks to one of the desks and seats himself in front of a large monitor. A small smile curls my lips as I connect the name of King Arthur’s enemy in the fabled tale to their headquarters. The enemy who inflicted Arthur’s fatal wound. “It’s where we hack into the Force’s network, gain intel, and view Outside.”

My eyebrows shoot up. “Hack?” I quickly forget wanting to know what the word means as Devlan clicks his monitor on. I look at the screen. “Is that outside of Karm?”

“Yes.” He taps the keyboard, and the screen bleeps in and out. With a flicker, it displays a dark land as it pans, revealing a dry and dusty landscape. “This is right outside the barrier. Nothing much to see as it’s night, but nothing much to see anyway during the day. It’s all dead land. But see the barrier?” He points to the edge of the screen.

I do. I press my hands on the desk and lean in closer. It blazes blue-white with three-dimensional blocks of squares. “You can see the complete grid of the force field from Outside.”

He types something else on the board and the screen flashes, then displays a giant building. It’s a gray, three-story brick building, and lights shine from the windows as if…as if people are living inside.

“Here. This is the compound. We dubbed it Morgana.” He turns and meets my eyes, rests his hand over mine on the desk.

I barely register his touch as my eyes search the compound. “What is it?”

“This is where the Virus takes us after we leave Karm.”

“What are you saying, Devlan?” My voice cracks. The front of my head pounds. The flickering lights of the monitors penetrate my skull, making me light-headed and dizzy. “The Virus kills us. It has since the Final War.”

He quickly punches the keys and the screen changes angles.

People. So many people.

They’re digging a trench and laying something down in it. I get closer to the screen, squint my eyes, try to focus. “How…how are they Outside—what are they doing?”

Devlan clears his throat. “Laying cables. This is just the first perimeter, where most of the power to Karm is fed. It takes a lot of juice to power the barrier, so the cables are repaired often. Others work inside the plant.” He points, motioning off the screen. “This is the main reactor where the nuclear power is generated.”

I shake my head, over and over. “This can’t—no.” I cover my mouth with my hand. I’ve wondered all my life how King Hart powered his realm, but this can’t be the truth. It’s too bizarre and evil. “And the Virus?”

“Hart has his friars inject us at our christening with the Virus he developed during the Final War.” He sucks in a deep breath, scrubs his hand down his face. “He was the lead scientist for the American government’s warfare department. But he’s had the strain mutated since then.” He shakes his head and points at the workers on the screen. “Look at them.”

“What?” My voice is strained. “What am I supposed to see?”

“Look how they walk, how they move. How no one talks.”

I study them, and I see it. They’re in some kind of trance. Oh, God. This can’t be true. It’s too absurd. They move as if they’re sleepwalking. They’re faces are blank slates, pallid and emotionless—not human.

Devlan places his hand on my shoulder. “All right, that’s enough for now. I think you’re about to have a meltdown.”

I jerk out of his hold and grab the screen. “No.” I try to see into the monitor. “Move the camera closer. Do…make it get closer. Zoom in.”

He hesitates, and I snap, “Do it!”

Tapping the keys, he does as I ask, and the cam moves in closer. The pale faces of the workers become clearer. The hollowed, dark circles under their eyes. Their dirty smocks and greasy hair and filthy skin and—

My. Heart. Stops.

Lit by the radiant glow of the barrier, with dirt and sweat and blood smeared across his face, is my father.

NINETEEN

I drop the monitor.

It thunks the desk hard. Its blue-green screen flickers in and out, flashing images of my father.

My father’s Outside. He’s one of those workers. He’s in a trance, digging a hole to help power Karm. I don’t blink. I watch him shovel and scoop. Toss the dirt. Shovel and scoop. Toss…

“Zara,” Devlan says softly, near my ear. “I’m going to turn it off now.” He swipes a button on the side of the monitor and the screen goes black.

I press my palms to the table and lean forward. My body begins to tremble. I can’t feel the ground beneath me.

My father’s alive.

The thought is a shot of adrenaline to my heart. I turn toward Devlan and latch onto his arms. “He’s alive.” I blink rapidly, clearing my vision. “I mean, he is alive, right?” Hope hangs in the air like a fragile snowflake dancing around on a warm breath.

He presses his lips together and nods. “His heart beats. And his brain functions. Like my parents, he’s alive, in a sense.” He slips his fingers beneath mine and curls my hands into his, removing my death grip from his arms. Then he leads me to a chair. I don’t realize I’m sitting until I look up at him when he says, “Even if we were to take the barrier down tonight, there’s nothing we can do for them. The Virus takes their minds. They don’t know who they are or were. They’re simply there, programmed to keep Karm running.”

A whirring rises in my ears, and I don’t hear the last of his sentence. I spring out of the chair and barely hear his calls after me as I slap the tent flaps back and march through the Rebel camp. Embers from dying fires fly up, singeing my dress, as I stomp through them.

Fireblood whickers when I reach her. I grab the reins from the tree branch.

“Zara,” Devlan shouts. “What the hell are you doing?” He grabs my arm and spins me to face him.

“Back off,” I snap. “I’m going to kill that bastard. I’m going to slit his evil throat and get my father.” I yank out of his hold and grip the reins tighter. Something squeezes my lungs and I double over. The ground blurs, and I gasp at the air.

Devlan pulls the reins, bringing me to him. His arms wrap around me, cradling me to his solid chest. It’s hard to breathe. I can’t breathe. I gulp in air, struggling to fill my lungs, and his scent consumes my senses.

I concentrate on shallow breaths—in, out—until my head lightens, and the sharp pain in my chest dulls to an ache. When my breathing slows, he pulls back and runs his hands along my face, clearing the snarled strands of hair away from my eyes. I look into his face.

“This is why I was taking it slow.” He leaves his palm against my cheek. “I didn’t want to tell you everything at once. It’s too much.”

“No.” My lungs feel blistered. “You told me he was dead. You told me that!”

Hurt registers on his face. His eyes pierce me with a wounded look. “I’m sorry, Zara.” He shakes his head. “I was wrong. There’s no excuse but…I thought it was right at the—”

I yank back and turn away from him.

The cold air burns a path down my chest. The pain awakens my senses, and I can see my path with perfect clarity. “I need to know. I need to know everything right now. I’m going to do the mission.”

I face him and look into his eyes, pulling my shoulders back. I can cry and fall apart later in the privacy of my chamber, but I need to maintain a semblance of strength right now.

His brow furrows. “And I believe you can. But we have plenty of time.” He crosses his arms and takes a step back. “Rest on it. Let things sink in, then we’ll discuss what’s next.”

I nod and force in a breath. The surging energy quickly drains from my body, leaving me weak and limp. “Fine. All right.”

We have plenty of time, as my escape plan has been permanently aborted. I suppose marrying Sebastian would serve best for this mission. I look at the ground. How far will I go to free my father? Who will I be when and if this ends? Right now I could easily slice Hart open with my father’s dagger. I know I could. I clamp my eyes shut, praying for clarity.

Everything is veiled and feels like I’m wrapped in layers upon layers of pain.

Devlan lifts my head, and I stare into his light eyes. “I can’t take you back there in this condition.” He bites his bottom lip. “You have to know that there’s a serum. It’s only speculative, but we believe Hart has an antidote to the Virus.”

My eyes widen, and I can almost grasp what hope feels like—what it used to feel like. I’ve taken care of my father before. I’ll take care of him again, no matter what the challenge. If there’s a way to bring him back healthy, I will find it.

“Listen,” he says. “We’re taking it slow. And we can’t talk about any of this in Court. Only outside the walls, and in the room you saw tonight. Those are the only safe places.”

“I understand,” I say, but my insides scream for action.

“All right. We need to talk to Fallon.”

“Wait,” I say, halting him before he walks off. “How much of this does Sebastian know?” Suddenly I’m not confident I can hold it together around him if he had anything to do with sending my father Outside.

Devlan turns to the side, his strong profile dark against the campfire’s light. “I’m not sure.” He shakes his head once. “I don’t know what all King Hart has entrusted with his son yet. I can’t let on that I know anything around him. Only the top members of the Force have access to this much knowledge.” His forehead creases and he steps toward me, his eyes taking on a severe edge. “This will be part of your mission, Zara. To cautiously, very carefully, discover the level of Sebastian’s involvement.”

I feel a small amount of relief. There’s still hope that Sebastian is ignorant of King Hart’s operation, and that he can be swayed away from his father’s rule.

“But, Zara.” Devlan’s voice drops into a solemn tone. “Sebastian is not to be trusted. As unaware as he appears, he’s Hart’s son. Hart is a tyrant. He raised Sebastian, and until I’m certain of him, he can’t know we have this information.” His eyes bore into me.

“I won’t say anything, Devlan.” I match the intensity of his gaze. I won’t do or say anything that will endanger my father further. He has to understand this. “I promise.”

He puffs out a long, foggy breath. “I have to know your feelings toward him. This is going to be more difficult than you think. I need the truth.” He steps closer, his eyes trail over my face. “Have you fallen for him?”

“Nay,” I answer quickly, then revise my speech. “No,” I say more forcefully. “I don’t love Sebastian.”

As stoic as Devlan always appears, I expect his features to remain a hard mask, revealing nothing. But for a fraction of a second—so quickly that if I’d blinked, I’d have missed it—relief washes over his face. A small relaxation of his features. A softening of his eyes, and a glimmer in their pale blue. Then it’s gone.

“All right,” he says. “Let’s announce our plans to Fallon, then get back to the castle. We’ve pressed our luck too far for one night.”

I wrap my arms around myself, clutching his tunic to me, and follow him back through the camp. A twinge of guilt eats at my stomach, and I press my hand over the ache in my chest, feeling the locket beneath my palm. No, I don’t love Sebastian. That question is easily enough answered.

I keep up with Devlan as we near the Rebel leader’s tent, and the real question begins to plague my mind.

How far will I go to save my father?

Without knowing who Sebastian truly is, and how much involvement he has with his father’s vile conspiracy, I can’t answer that yet. I would never consciously do anything to hurt an innocent, and Sebastian may be just that.

But if he had anything at all to do with putting my father Outside…

I ball my hands into fists. If he’s a part of this in any way, he’ll regret the day he brought me to Castle Karm.

* * *

“She’s taken enough for now.” Devlan gives Fallon a hard stare. “I’ll fill her in on everything she needs to know over the next week.”

Fallon touches her hand to the side of her head, smoothing her hair back toward her bun. “I trust you will, Devlan.” She walks to her desk and sits. The low-burning candles cast her shadow against the tent. “Now that the princess has decided to join our forces, we have more time to work with.”

I wince at princess. “Please, Fallon, don’t call me that.” I meet her eyes before standing and stretching out my legs.

A small smile slides across her face. “Sorry.” She waves a leather-gloved hand through the air. “It’s how we’ve been referring to you. Old habits. But Zara fits you much better.”

I return her smile. “Thank you.”

“Right. We need to go.” Devlan pushes himself up off the dirt floor and nods to Fallon. “I’ll contact you after Sunday.”

I’d forgotten about this Sunday—about all the ceremonies to come and the banns. I squeeze my eyes shut, wishing I could reach inside my head and quiet the noise. Too much has been revealed to me. I can’t grasp all that has happened in a day, or all that I still have to learn. To perform.

“Zara.” Devlan awakens me from my daze. “It’s time.”

Fallon rises from her chair, and I notice for the first time that she’s about the same height as me, maybe an inch or two taller. “Devlan gave you a communicator?” I nod, and she holds out her gloved hand. “Let me program my frequency.”

I scrunch my face. “But isn’t that dangerous? What if someone taps into it?”

“Our transmission is secure, and we have the best hacker masking our signal.” As I pull the device from my bodice to hand it to her, she raises her eyebrows. “Exactly where I keep mine.” She winks.

After we say our goodbyes to Silas and Fallon, we hurry through the camp. It’s early morning, and in a couple of hours the castle servants will be rising to start their work. Madity won’t come for me until the sun is up, but we need to be inside the castle before there’s movement.

My limbs are weak, and I stagger a little as I attempt to mount Fireblood. Devlan catches me around the waist. “Here.” He gets atop Fireblood before reaching down. He grasps me under my arms and pulls me up, placing me in front of him. I’m too tired to argue that I am strong enough to ride from behind, and I lay my head on his chest.

My eyes close as he takes the reins in one hand and his horse lurches into motion. His other arm holds me to him. The crickets, the rocking of the horse, and the warmth enveloping me from Devlan’s body nearly lull me to sleep, but the plans made in the Rebels’ tent continually circle my mind. They flap like angry bats and bare fangs, biting, keeping me awake.

The Rebels believe Sebastian will take me to meet the king. They don’t know where King Hart’s secret chamber is located, but they speculate it’s far away from the castle and well-guarded. I’m to learn how to fight with my hands as well as weapons, small lethal ones I can sneak in under my clothes.

I’m to become an assassin.

I’ll take out the guards while Sebastian is under the influence of a poison—a sleeping potion—that I’ll give him before we enter Hart’s chamber. I’ll steal the antidote to the Virus. I’ll discover the location of the control room that houses the mainframe he calls Excalibur. Afterward, I’ll convince Sebastian that a citizen killed his father—a ghost of a man whom we’ll invent—who can be falsely accused without the threat of Sebastian seeking revenge. Over his grieving period, I’ll sway him to join the Rebels, take down the barrier, and save the Taken.

As Fallon, Devlan, and Silas plotted this absurd plan, I nearly bolted from the tent.

I am not an assassin. I have no idea how I’m to do all these things asked of me.

And if I should fail to convince Sebastian in the end? If I discover he’s in on his father’s operation, he becomes factored into the plot. Fallon stressed that we must try to save Sebastian first. I don’t want to think of what measures must be taken if Sebastian is aware of Hart’s project. I can’t. I’ll take it one step at a time, and discern the truth for myself.

The only thing that keeps me from going mad is my father’s face on that monitor—the lost look in his once-loving eyes, the pallid gray of his skin. And I can see no other holding a blade to Hart’s throat.

I can’t fail.

We stop, and I open my eyes and glance around. Even in the dead of night the meadow is beautiful. I didn’t take the time to notice before, as I was running for my life, but the stars’ reflection shimmers in the river, and a wisp of fog diffuses the moonlight, illuminating everything in an unearthly glow.

I want to look at everything more closely now. Never miss a moment.

I don’t know how long I’ll survive this mission.

“We need to walk the horse through the opening,” Devlan says softly.

I nod against his chest, and he slowly lowers me to the ground. My brain is so tired and my body so completely drained, I feel as if I’m in a dream. Nothing feels real. My legs are numb, and I sway as I walk the bank. Despite everything—all that I now know, all the fear that envelopes me—a peace settles in my core.

My father is alive.

“Zara.” Devlan walks up behind me. “I need my tunic. It’ll be difficult enough to explain why we’re out at this hour. No reason to have the servants gossiping as to why you’re wearing my shirt.”

“Oh, right,” I say over my shoulder. “A scandal would botch things pretty good.” I lift my arms, heavy with exhaustion, and only get his shirt past my waistline when Devlan’s hands cover mine. A slight flutter prickles my stomach as he slowly guides the tunic up, and then over my head. He stands there a moment longer. His body heat presses against my back, the sliver of air between us a taut current.

I cease breathing until he steps away, and then I inhale the earthy woods. My mind is too tired, and I’m allowing sleep deprivation to have its way with paranoia. Not all men allow their hormones to lead. Especially Devlan. He wanted his tunic. It’s that simple. He wants me to become an assassin and help take down the barrier. He’s trained long and hard for his mission. I shake my head. I need sleep.

When I turn around, he’s dressed and taking Fireblood by the reins. I shield myself from the cold, wrapping my arms around myself, and carefully step along the boulders of the brook.

Once we’re both through, he turns to me. “Ride with me. I can lead Hawken behind us.”

His offer is the most tempting thing I’ve ever heard. My whole body wants to drop, but I have to stay strong. I need to get stronger. “I can ride.”

His brows pull together as he stares down at me, but something in my voice must convince him. He nods once, then helps me atop Hawken. After he mounts his horse, we ride hard toward the castle. My arms, legs, and feet become numb as I grip the reins and hold on with my knees, the freezing morning air biting into them. But I hold on. Just a little longer till I can fall into my bed.

We reach the stable, and Devlan slides off his horse and unlatches the gate. He walks Fireblood toward the glass door, and I hunker lower to Hawken’s back as I follow, feeling exposed. I have to trust that Xander, the knight watching my chamber, would alert us if anyone suspected I was missing.

Devlan enters his code and the beam scans his image. “Devlan,” I whisper. His head snaps to me. “It scanned me before. Won’t I—”

“It’s been taken care of. I sent Larkin to the monitoring room to delete the log. He’s the only member of our unit among the Force Round Table.” My chest relaxes, and relief settles over me. He takes out his communicator as we enter the stable. “We’re back,” he says into the device, then puts it away. “He’ll now erase that one as well. Now, we don’t talk about this from here on out.”

He helps me down from the horse and I lean against the stall. Everything is in sequential order, one thing happening and then the next. I move and act as if programmed.

Devlan leads me to the back of the stable, lifts up a trap door, and we climb down. I’m too drained to question as he leads me through a dark tunnel. My brain connects where we are once we enter a low-lit room. Where this night started out. The secret chamber in the castle.

“This is only used by us,” he says. “And only in emergencies. The risk of being seen by anyone in the stable or the Eyes is too great. So only, only in emergencies.” He stresses these last words.

Once I’ve slept and have time to process everything, I’ll think to ask more questions, but right now all I desire is my soft bed and the warmth of my covers. We slip down the corridor, Devlan continuously scanning, and reach my chamber. I’m so thankful I nearly fall into my door.

“Princess Zara,” he says, and I only slightly acknowledge he’s taken on the guise of the first knight again. “Feign ill tomorrow. There will be too many questions from your maid and Sebastian as to why you’re so tired.”

I jerkily nod. “That won’t be difficult. I feel ill already.” I take one last look into his blue eyes, worried and pleading, then dip into my room.

TWENTY

The bright morning sun filters in though my balcony door, slashing its heated rays across my face and eyes.

No.

“Princess,” Madity says cheerfully. “We have a busy day. We must get you fitted for your gown and…” She trails off as I crack an eye open. “What’s the matter with you? You look pale.”

I bury my head underneath the pillow. “I fear I’m ill.” In a rush, all of the night’s happenings come flooding back. My chest constricts, and I squeeze the pillow tighter, trying to conceal my quaking limbs.

Madity removes the pillow and seats herself on the edge of my bed. She runs the back of her hand along my forehead, then my cheek. “Oh, my.” Her face pinches into a concerned expression. “Yes. You do have a fever.”

I’m not surprised in the least. After splashing around in the freezing river, riding in the cold night air, not to mention being mentally and physically fatigued, it’s a wonder I’m lucid at all.

“Well,” she says, pulling her hand onto her lap. “I will have the kitchen make up a steaming batch of chicken broth, and we can do your fitting in your room.” She nods to herself, as if mentally checking off more on her to-do list.

My chest swells with affection for her. “Madity.” She looks at me, coming out of her heavy thoughts. “Thank you.”

Her face beams. “I’ll bring your broth up shortly. Do you need the castle physician? I’ll have someone run into town to visit the apothecary. We’ll need medicines.” Her face waxes over, paling against the light. “Oh, dear. I forgot.”

I bolt upright. “Is Mr. Levine—”

“Shh.” She presses a finger over her thin mouth, quieting me. “Nay, princess. I simply forgot. But someone has surely taken up the apothecary shop. I’ll send a messenger to get medicines.”

My hope deflates. Even though I saw his torture with my own eyes, having seen my father after thinking him dead…I thought it possible.

“Nay.” I scoot back against the wooden headboard. “It’s only a simple bout of fever, Madity. Nothing severe.” Her features relax. I run my hands down my face, rubbing the exhaustion in my muscles away. “I’m just drained from all the events and tasks.”

“Yes, I suppose so.” She stands, straightens her gray servant’s tunic, and heads toward the door. Before she exits, she turns and says, “And horseback lessons.” She shakes her head. “I told you not to take that on. But I believe that is what the prince loves most about you, your willfulness.” Her eyes slant as she searches my face. “And Sir Devlan, I suppose, enjoys having a headstrong charge, too.”

I open my mouth, but before I can think how to respond, she bows and leaves through the door. For a skittish maid, she is far wiser than I’ve given her credit for. I don’t fear she will act on her assumptions, though. I feel she cares for me. I only pray that my actions don’t harm her in any way.

* * *

I sleep for most of the day. After soaking in the warm bath Madity prepared and downing two bowls of chicken broth, I do feel better. Sebastian checked in once, concern etched in the corners of his eyes, but welcomed my illness by way of an explanation for my absence at breakfast.

Remembering the prince’s declaration in the garden, his accepted challenge of gaining my affections, I suppose he’s unwilling to consider that I may not want his company…but maybe his arrogance will work in our favor for discovering his level of involvement in Hart’s schemes.

The afternoon light seeps in through the thick curtains of my dormer window, and I feel I must make an appearance. Devlan hasn’t come to check on my recovery or contacted me on the communicator. I wonder if he fears I’ve already botched the mission, and is off making plans to flee.

Maybe he’s simply giving me time to digest everything. I know he kept things from me, afraid I couldn’t handle them. If I’d tried to cram one more shred of information into my head last night, I would’ve had a breakdown. They’d have hauled me away to the Oubliette instead of feeding me broth.

Now, it’s time. I need to seek out Devlan, piece together the missing parts of the puzzle, and discover what role Sebastian plays. I’m at least thankful King Hart is hidden away. If I had to face him, I would snap.

As soon as I’m dressed and have all my important items in place—dagger strapped to thigh, communicator in bodice, locket around neck, crown atop head—I feel armed and ready to initiate my mission. I only wish I had a small portrait of my father to carry with me also, but that would be even riskier than the dagger.

I think back on the moment Devlan told me my father was incinerated, and I feel manipulated. I understand he didn’t know whether he could trust me with this much knowledge. But if he was planning to groom me into an assassin, he could’ve at least given me a shred of hope rather than allowing me to believe my father had burned to ashes, when, in reality, my father was being taken away to a dark and barren world.

Although the Virus having turned my father into a mindless slave is close enough to death. He was never coming back to me, either way. Now I have a chance to change that.

I need to know more about Outside. I need to know exactly how the Virus works, and what awaits the Taken. I need to understand everything.

Once I leave my quarters, I slink down the hallways toward the atrium. I feel so out of place, more so than on the first day of my arrival. I fear the sound of every footstep will give me away. Moving silently, I endeavor to become invisible.

I fail at my attempt and am greeted from behind by Sebastian. “Zara,” he says, surprise in his voice.

I jolt and turn to face him. “Sebastian. You startled me.”

He walks up to me and takes one of my hands in his. “You seem to be feeling much better, and your face is full of color.” He kisses the top of my hand.

My lips twitch, and my hand trembles in his grasp. “I am feeling better, thank you.” I try to act casual, force my lips into a smile, but it’s difficult to meet his eyes without thinking of my father.

“Shall we?” He sweeps his hand before me, and I walk beside him. “Where’s Devlan? It’s unlike him to shirk his duties.”

Panic spurs my chest. I want to cover for the first knight, as I’m sure he’s carrying out Rebel duties, but I don’t want to get caught in a lie. Covering for him would look too suspicious, and Devlan managed before I came along. “I relieved him this morning when I thought I’d be down for the day.”

“Right. That makes sense.” He smiles. “I like the thought of having you to myself at the moment anyway.” He winks.

I try to conceal the tremor of my body, hold back the accusations wanting to rip from my mouth, and look ahead as we near the back hall. Loud bangs and shouts echo off the stone walls. I squint, looking past the lower level of the castle. People are milling around, carrying boards and tools.

“What…?” I start to say, but then see the half-built stands. “The tournament.”

Sebastian points toward the middle of the training grounds. “What you saw before was merely our training equipment. This will be the biggest tournament we’ve ever held. The king has appointed me in charge of overseeing the whole thing this season.” He smiles, his face full of pride. “I’m going to make it the grandest tournament Karm has ever witnessed.”

“It looks like it’s going to be amazing already,” I say. “I’m sure the king will be proud.”

His smile drops. Damn. I’ve said the wrong thing. I have to tread lightly around this subject. After what he revealed to me at the meadow, I know it’s a sensitive one. I clear my throat. “You’re going to be very busy with preparations today, I assume.”

His golden eyes study me. “You’re dancing around something.” He grins and plants his foot on the step, resting his forearms on his leg. “What are you wishing to do, Zara? I now know you well enough to know when you’re probing.”

Heat splashes my cheeks. “Well done.” I smile at him and step back, as he’s now at my eyelevel and is leaning in too close. “I’m wishing to continue my riding lessons. But without them mentioned to Madity. She’d become too upset if she knew.”

“And I’m going to agree with her on this.” He regards me with a stern look. “I think you need more rest.”

I bite down on my lip. I need to be away from Court to discuss things with Devlan. He made that clear. However, I don’t want Sebastian wondering why this is so important to me. I nod. “Yes. All right. I’ll wait.”

“I know riding gives you a reprieve from Court life.” He stands straight, placing one hand on his scabbard. “I’m going into town on the morrow. So if you will rest for now, I’d like for you to join me.”

A couple of days ago, hearing I’m to leave Court would’ve lifted my spirits. Now, waiting two days to speak with Devlan in privacy will drive me mad. “I would like that,” I say, gripping my gown behind my back.

Sebastian smiles and brings his communicator out from inside his trouser pocket. “Devlan,” he says into the device. It crackles.

“Your Highness.” My heart thumps against my breastbone as Devlan’s voice fills the air.

“Please meet the princess near the garden. Make sure Madity’s aware she’s resting for the day.” A beat. “Marital preparations can be postponed until she’s well.” Devlan acknowledges his orders, and Sebastian pockets the communicator.

I curtsy before Sebastian. “I look forward to our day together on the morrow.”

He grasps my hand, halting my getaway, and places a soft kiss on the back of it. “As do I.”

After I make my way to the garden, I glance around, taking in the colors. The brightness of the bushes, trees, and flowers are bolder, richer in the afternoon light, making the garden feel surreal. The fountain glints as the water cascades over in a shimmering rainbow.

“Princess Zara,” Devlan says, and I snap my head to the side. He looks the same as always: black tunic with blue vest, sword at his right side, dark hair feathering his eyes and ears. However, today there’s a cautiousness in his pale blue eyes as he approaches me. An unspoken question. “I trust you’re feeling better.”

“Yes.” I maneuver myself onto a stone bench to face him. “But not well enough for a ride, apparently.”

His lips quirk into a half-grin. “Nay. I would think not.”

He looks away, and I notice a small bruise near his temple, next to his eye. A small pang of regret hits my chest. I hope no one has questioned him about how he got it. I mentally note to apologize to him later—when we’re alone—for having kicked his face.

His hand cups the pommel of his sword and he leans to the side, resting his weight on one leg. His eyes travel to the apple tree, then to me. “Is it time for your walk?’

I nod in understanding.

My stomach flutters widely as I walk ahead of him toward the lake. I want to ask so many things it feels as if something is crawling under my skin. Having to contain all my emotions is crazy; I want to scream. Finally, we reach the lake, and I slump to the grass.

Devlan stands to my side, his form casting a shadow over me. “After supper, tell Sebastian you’re feeling unwell. Wait an hour. Then meet me outside on your balcony.”

I open my mouth to ask how he’ll be on my balcony, but he raises his hand. He glances at the tree branches again. “I hope you got enough rest today, princess.” His lips tug into a crooked smile. “Tonight, you’ll need it.”

* * *

Supper was agony. Trying to pay attention to conversation, smile, and act attentively while my body hummed with anticipation was sheer torture. Even now as I pace my room, I have no idea what I’m in for. But if I wait one more second, I’m going to combust.

Glancing at my clock, I huff. Five minutes. That’s long enough. It’s five minutes till Devlan told me to meet him on the balcony. I step to the door, then step away. Maybe there’s a specific time for a reason. Mayhap he’s scheduled the Eyes to pan the other side of the castle at precisely that time. I wring my hands.

I wish he’d been clearer. Here I am, taking huge risks, and I’m the one in the dark. I pace again.

At exactly nine o’clock, I swing the doors open, and Devlan hops over the edge of the balcony. I cover my mouth to keep from yelping. He presses his finger over his lips, then reaches out and takes my hand. He’s dressed in all black. I’m wearing the same hunter-green gown I wore to supper. Damn. I didn’t think to change.

He wraps a cord around my waist and latches it to one around his. Then he lifts my arms and wraps them around his neck. His breath fans my face, my bangs, my cheeks as he pulls me close to his body. My heart hammers so hard I know he can feel it pounding against his chest.

He scoops me into his arms and steps from the ledge. We drop off the side. My stomach tingles at the free-fall, and every muscle in my body clenches. Before I can even think to close my eyes or scream, we yank to a stop. Then we begin to slowly descend.

I look into his face. He’s wearing his knowing smile. I glare at him. This only makes his smile stretch.

When we reach the ground, he unhooks us, presses a button on a device that releases the cable from above, and reels in the cable as it falls. We run to the side of the castle where Fireblood awaits us, my heart in my throat the whole way. His plan is much better than my poor attempt at an escape. Much quicker, too.

Before I mount the horse, Devlan drapes me in a cloak. We ride hard toward the meadow. All of it couldn’t have taken more than five minutes. He’s good. When we reach the other side of the stone wall, I fall to the bank.

“Finally.” I take in a deep breath. “I was going mad.”

He tosses me a brown leather bag. “You did well. I’m impressed.” I look up at him, and he points to the woods before I can acknowledge or respond to his praise. “Go change.”

I glance down at the satchel. “All right…” I edge toward the darker part of the woods. The crickets shriek an anxious song, and the floor is coated with fog. I swallow down my heartbeat, which has lodged itself in my throat, quickly untie the leather bag, and empty its contents.

I hold up a pair of trousers and shake my head, but then look down at my dress. Whatever he has planned, I’m sure I don’t want to explain to Madity how I keep ruining all my gowns. I sigh and unlace the backing of my dress. I change into the pants—tight black pants—then fight my way into the tight black shirt, the cool air nipping at my bare skin. There’s just enough support for my lady parts, although the thin material leaves little to the imagination. I frown.

I emerge from behind a tree and hug my stomach tightly, my biceps just covering enough of my chest so I don’t feel as exposed. “I feel practically naked,” I say, squeezing my midsection. “I think you got my size wrong.”

Devlan turns around. He’s changed clothes also, and now wears a matching black shirt and pants. His muscled form is very apparent, and I focus instead on his face, which is shadowed, only one side partially illuminated by the moon, but I still see his eyes travel over my body. My face heats.

“It’s not too small,” he says. “You don’t want clothing getting in the way when you fight. And I can’t explain away a messed-up uniform.”

I nod, but then say, “I know you think I can do this, but look at me.” I fan my hand down my body. “I’m all of five foot and…and,” I stutter. “Well, all of five foot.” The extra two inches doesn’t add much at this point. I plant my hands on my hips.

He steps up to me. “Size is no matter.” He kicks my legs out from under me. I hit the ground hard, my breath whooshes out. “Once you learn how to block out the pain, and how to absorb blows, you won’t be scared when they come.”

I can’t believe he just did that. I slowly sit up and grab my aching back. “You bastard.”

“Yeah,” he remarks. And I can hear the change in his voice, the lilt of his words. He’s dropped his practiced formalities. “You’re not going to like me much during this. But it’s required. To harden you. Even before you came here as a princess, you were pampered.” He reaches down and takes my hand, then pulls me up. “I have to beat the spoiled princess out of you.” He sweeps my legs again.

“Damn it—”

“Well, I thought you knew it was coming.” He laughs. “You should’ve learned the first time.”

I glare up at him, striking through my previous mental note of apology for his bruise. He’s going to return the favor tenfold. And he has no right to accuse me of being spoiled! My father raised me anything but. “Just how am I supposed to block when you haven’t shown me.”

He squats beside me, balancing on the balls of his feet. “You know your body better than I do, princess.” His eyes scan over me. “Figure it out.”

I get to my feet, angrily dusting the earth off myself. “You know better than to call me that when we’re alone. You’re doing it to anger me.”

“And it’s working.” His eyes glint devilishly in the moonlight. “You need to get better control over your emotions. You’re far too easily vexed,” he spits the word mockingly.

I bite the inside of my lip, stopping myself from unleashing a slew of profanities at him. He’s purposely trying to get a rise out of me. Remembering how he trained me to ride, it doesn’t surprise as much as it annoys.

No matter his tactic, I know I need to be tougher, stronger—less breakable. I picture Hart’s face on the monitor, his beady, cold eyes, and latch onto the fire surging through my veins. “Fine,” I grind out. “Again.”

After hitting the ground so many times I lose count, I finally manage to evade one of his attacks.

Devlan stands before me, his arms laced over his chest. “Good.” He circles me. “Now learn to do that when your foe comes from behind.”

I hear his foot brush the ground and immediately jump backward and fall into him. His arm reaches around my shoulder and I go limp, dropping to the ground. I’ve discovered I’m not so much a fighter, but rather a rag doll. My skills seem to be floppiness and confusing him instead of trying to match his muscle, which I know I can’t do. He attempts to grab me, but I roll to the side.

“Damn.” He walks around and looks down at me, a tight smile crooking his lips. “That’s not bad.”

My chest inflates, and I jump to my feet. “Ha. I won’t be looking at you from the ground again.”

He rushes me and I panic. Waving my hands uselessly, I stumble back. He grasps me around the waist and hauls me into the air, my arms pinned to my side. His face is close to mine and he squints, studying my face to read my next move. I desperately want to own that ability. I turn my head away and kick, but he locks my feet between his thighs.

“What body part is free?” he says, grunting.

I wriggle against him, then stare into his eyes, his cocky smile. I don’t think—I slam my forehead into his. My anger works well for me, I decide. Then the pain rushes the front of my face, behind my eyes. Devlan falls to the ground, bringing me with him.

“Err,” he groans, his lips spreading into a soft smile. “I’m back to being convinced of your hardheadedness.”

I laugh and drop my head against his shoulder. “I think I need to aim for the nose, rather than give myself a horrid headache.”

“Good call.”

I feel the rise and fall of his chest beneath me. His breaths slow, and his body tenses. I can feel the solid curve of his muscles; his chest and stomach, and my face heats. I lift my head and stare down at him. His features are strained, his brow slightly creased.

I should move. I need to move off him.

But when he brushes my hair behind my ear, my whole body thrums, igniting under that simple touch, and I’m frozen. His lips part, his head lifts off the ground, and his breath brushes against my lips. His hands palm the back of my head and lower back, and then he flips me over. As his weight bears down on me, I suck in a breath. His face drops closer to mine as he reaches his hand down, grabs something out of his boot, then his movements are too quick for me to register—

He sinks a dagger into the earth beside my head.

I choke back a cry and my heart slams against my breastbone.

He looks to the side, then palms the ground and pushes up, getting to his feet. “Always be on guard.”

My eyes slip over the blade. It gleams, catching the blue streaks of the sky. I pull in quick, sharp breaths to calm the ache spreading through my chest.

Devlan walks over to the leather bag and picks it up. “Even when your foe appears to be rendered helpless,” he says, his voice tense, his eyes shaded by the dark, “always be on guard.”

I sit up and bring my knees to my chest, wrapping my arms around my legs. My eyes sting, and I rub the heels of my hands into the sockets. I don’t know if I’m more upset that he scared the shit out of me or that I let my guard down. Or that I thought…I push the stupid thought aside.

He scared the shit out of me.

I take steady breaths to calm down fully and angle my head to watch Devlan throw the supplies into the pack with quick, edgy movements. I still have so much to learn.

About myself.

And him.

TWENTY-ONE

I kick at the dirt and pine straw as I walk to the log seats. Sitting down, I stare up at Devlan. He continues to gather our stuff and toss it into the bag. “So how horrible am I?” I ask.

His head snaps my way. “Not horrible at all.” He stuffs my green dress into the satchel. “It would be ridiculous to think you could best me in one night.” He reveals a small smile. “But you surprised me more than once, and that’s more than many of the Rebels I trained with.”

My chest expands as I take in a big breath. I didn’t expect a compliment from him. “And how long did you train?”

He walks over and drops to the ground near me. He looks up into my eyes, the pale moon bathing his face in a soft glow. “Right after I left Court, Micah approached me. One of her spies informed her of the prince having a falling-out with his best friend.” He looks to the river. “It didn’t take long to convince me to join. I trained nearly every day before coming back here when I turned eighteen, the age required to become a knight.”

“So you’ve been here how long? A year?”

“Yeah. I’m nineteen. Sebastian advanced me to first knight quickly.” He glances around. “We should head back. You shouldn’t miss out on any more sleep. It’ll start to look suspicious, especially if you’re limping around.”

I rub the back of my neck. “I’m going to feel like death tomorrow.” Tomorrow. I enjoy the way the speech I’ve learned from Devlan feels on my tongue. I wish I could’ve kept my father’s books. I’d like to study them and learn more.

Devlan shakes his head and laughs. I especially enjoy that rare laugh. “I’ll bring you a soak in the morning. It’ll help the soreness.”

He stands and starts heading toward the opening in the wall.

“Wait.” I rise from my stump. “You can’t bring me here and beat me bloody and then not answer any of my questions.”

He turns and his brow furrows. “You were told everything last night.”

“No, I was slammed with too much all at once.” I walk toward him. “But now that I’ve had time to think, I have questions. I want to know how the Virus works, what it does to us. And I want to know about Outside. What are we going to face when we succeed in lowering the barrier?” I stop a foot in front of him, look up, and cross my arms.

He first looks to the sky, then takes a step closer to me, cocking his head. “When?” His eyes pin me in place. “When we succeed? You have no doubt that you’ll do this.”

I hadn’t realized I’d said the word, but no. I do have doubt. Only I can’t think of the mission as mine. It’s ours, all the Rebels’. The doubt doesn’t seem to consume me when I think of it this way. “No,” I answer him. “My father’s out there. All our family is out there. There’s little doubt.”

His eyes travel over my face. He extends his hand, motioning toward the open area. I turn around, then think better about having my back to him and spin again, walking backward instead.

He chuckles. “You’re a quick learner. I’ll give you that.”

I settle down on the log, and he stands before me, his features masked by the night. “Well, are you going to answer my questions?”

He raises his hand and gestures for me to stand. “If you’re not sleeping, then you’re training. We have no down time, princess.” His lips curl up on the side. “I’ll answer them as you win hits.”

Standing, I stretch out my sore muscles. “How can I convince you to stop calling me that?” I lunge and land a blow to his thigh. I know Devlan isn’t fighting to his full potential while training me, but I plan to take any openings he gives.

Backing away slowly, I raise my brows. He sweeps the pine straw floor. I tumble out of the way. “You can’t,” he says. “It suits you.”

“I’ll figure out a way.” I kick and strike his shin, then hop back. “How does the Virus work?”

“It’s not easy to explain,” he says quickly, and rebounds with a kick to my leg. I groan and pull myself up, rubbing the spot. “I’m not a scientist. All I know is it’s triggered differently in everyone. I’ve been told it acclimates to our system, and our DNA activates it when the Virus mutates. Then it shuts down our body. Like a false death. The brain is alive, we even breathe, but we appear as dead.”

A shudder travels through my body. I bring my hands up, stepping wide into a defensive position. “So what happens after the Virus takes us?” I jab. He blocks. I quickly turn and elbow his rib cage.

He recovers and spins my body away from his. “Afterward, the mind awakens into a new mental state. Completely void, like a blank slate. And then”—he blocks my swing and pushes me backward—“we’re hooked up to a machine that programs us like computers. A monitoring chip is placed here.” He points to his hand, between the major knuckles of the index finger and the thumb. “It tracks us and records our vitals.” His lips pull tight. “I think the Virus causes damage over time, but there’s no way of knowing just what kind until we can evaluate it after it has mutated.”

I nod once, remembering my father’s pale skin, his sunken eyes. A stinging pain pulses behind my eyes, and I blink hard. Drawing the heat from my core, I plant my feet on the ground, holding a balanced fighting stance as Devlan hurls a punch to my side. I block, wobble, and attack the area he’s exposed—his stomach—with a hard jab.

“What do the Taken do Outside?” I ask, backing away and shaking out my throbbing hand.

“They mine uranium for nuclear energy and build new compounds to harness the power. Some work close to Karm, others are sent farther out to scout for more resources and link the power back to the main hub. And…” He trails off.

I dip my head forward, finding his eyes. “What? Devlan, tell me.”

His eyes are cold blue pools. “Zara. There are things out there that make the stories you heard growing up seem like fairy tales.” His stare intensifies, and I take a step back, wondering if he’s trying to sneak an attack.

He drives his hand through his mussed hair, and I relax my stance. “The fallout mutated animals into monsters,” he continues. “Beasts that can tear through a man in one bite. Those Outside who aren’t workers defend the compounds. And there’re humans out there that have mutated into beasts right along with the animals—cannibals—and they’re smart. They can’t be fought off like the monsters.”

A sickness coats my stomach and I step back, shaking my head. I can’t spar with Devlan anymore. My father is out there with these monsters and—I can’t. “Then how do they survive out there?”

He apparently feels the same, as he looks to the ground, dropping his defenses. “Hart has programmed the Taken to offer sacrifices to keep them from attacking the compounds and wiping out his project. The Yielding.”

I stumble backward and my leg hits one of the upturned logs. I sit, my body unable to hold its weight. “No.” I bury my head in my hands. “You’ve seen this?” I pray that he hasn’t, that this is still no more than the stories from my youth.

He kneels in front of me and removes my hands from my face. “Yes.” His eyes are steady, convincing. “I’ve seen it. I’ve seen men and women, and some younger than us, walk right into the open and be devoured.”

Jerking away from him, I turn and face the river. Its slow trickle transforms into a roar, rushing past rocks like sand hastens through an hourglass.

How much time do I have before I’m taken?

“Zara,” he breathes my name. “Look at me.” And I do. His eyes turn pale as the reflected moonlight in the river washes over him, and my heart constricts. “I wish I didn’t have to scare you with all this, but you need to know what you’ll be facing once the barrier is shut down. You deserve to know the truth.”

His eyes plead with me not to break down. I take in a crisp, shuddering breath as he settles on the log beside me. “Why can’t we just bring them in?” I ask. His eyebrows knit together, and his lips slowly part, but I press on. “I mean, take down the barrier, quickly bring the Taken inside Karm, and then raise it again. Keep the cannibals and the monsters Outside.”

Devlan blows a heavy breath past his lips and lays his elbows on his knees, leaning toward me. “It’s not that simple, Zara. At first, the cannibals were tearing up the power cables and attacking the compounds. Hart uses the Yielding as a peace offering. They have a steady food supply. They’re given a reason, a reward not to attack the compounds and Karm.” He swallows, his Adam’s apple works. “But once we rescue the Taken, the cannibals will take down the barrier. They’ll tear through the compound and knock out the power. We could hide behind the force field for a while, but eventually, we’d have to fight them.”

Understanding dawns. There’s no getting the Taken back without facing the monsters of Outside. “Do we have the resources to wage this kind of war?”

“That’s where Sebastian comes in. If we—you can convince him to join the Rebels, we’ll have the army of knights and the Force alongside us. Combining our forces is the only way to stand against Outside. This has to be done.” His eyes search my face, and I see the determination in them. “I’d rather give my life to save them than hide like Hart.”

He’s right. Risking myself in order to save my father is worth it. The image of my father Outside, maybe this moment being sacrificed to the cannibals, pounds against my inner vision. “I need to train harder. I have to learn how to take down Hart now. I have to get to my father, and I have to do it all now before I’m out there as a…as a mindless slave and I can’t do anything to—”

He presses his fingers over my mouth, and my words halt. I breathe hard against his hand. “It’s all right,” he says in a soothing tone. “It’s no different than the fear we’ve lived with our whole life. The fear of being taken by the Virus.” Slowly moving his fingers aside, he skims them along my jawline and cups my cheek. Embers stir beneath my skin where his touch lingers. “And, if you’re taken…” His eyes flick over my face. “I will come for you.”

His skin is warm and sure against mine as he smoothes away the anxiety etched on my features with the brush of his thumb. He drops his hand, and my body trembles at the wake trailing his touch. His eyes hold mine, their blue shimmering like the moonlight rippling over the river. He says more forcefully, “I will come for you.”

I place my hand over his, the one that held my face, and squeeze. “I will come for you, too.”

TWENTY-TWO

Death is too kind a word. My body feels like it’s been packed into a meat grinder and raked over fiery coals. I wince as I try to open the atrium door. Even my wrists hurt. I didn’t know I had muscles in my wrists that I could strain.

Devlan reaches his arm around me and grabs the handle. “Allow me, princess.” I can hear the amusement in his voice.

“Why, thank you, Sir Devlan.” I eye him through slitted lids. I swear he’s a masochist. He probably enjoys feeling pain as much as he does inflicting it.

Sebastian rises from his chair, tosses his silver embroidered cape over his shoulder, and greets me with a kiss to my hand. He guides me to my seat, his eyes trailing over me. “You look as if you’re feeling worse.” He cocks his head after he takes his seat. “You seemed in better shape yesterday afternoon. Have you fallen ill again?”

I sit as the servant behind me pushes in my chair. “I believe it’s just an aftereffect from the fever.” I nod, encouraging him along. “Muscle fatigue. I forgot to take my medicines this morning.”

His face pinches. “Zara, mayhap you should see the physician before we leave for town. I don’t want to take any chances it’s something—”

“I’m fine, Sebastian,” I interrupt. “Truly. I’ve never handled fevers or colds well.” I smile.

He studies me once before picking up his silverware, then returns my smile. “All right, my love.”

Relieved, I pick up a knife and butter my croissant. I would still be laid up in bed if it weren’t for Devlan giving Madity the soak this morning. I could barely hobble across my room when I first woke. Madity only mildly questioned me. I’m sure she knows horseback riding wouldn’t cause this much pain, or a fever, but she decided against probing.

I want to tell her everything so badly, but I can’t bring her into this. If protecting her means hurting her feelings by requesting another maid, it may come to that. It will pain me, and I’ll never be able to explain to her the reason, but I can’t chance endangering her if she becomes too knowledgeable.

After breakfast, Sebastian leads me to the carriage at the front of the castle. It’s drawn by two white horses, and five members of the Force are mounted on black horses in the lead. Devlan and a guard from his knights ride with us in the carriage.

As we near the gatehouse, the giant gate squeals open as the electric charge surrounding the metal bars zaps off. I hear the hum, then silence. We pass through, and my stomach flutters with excitement as we leave Court.

If the past two days had never happened, my only thoughts would be on how to lose Sebastian and the knights in Town Square. As the town opens up around me, however, I’m plagued with different, pressing matters aside from myself.

Haphazardly stacked houses layer the cobbled streets, their rooftops peaked against the light sky. The scent of baking bread filters into the interior of the carriage. Children chase after the carriage, fake swords in hand. The market is packed with citizens milling around, buying corn from the recent harvest and materials to sew with. It’s peaceful. I didn’t realize how much I missed the freedom of coming to the market. I never liked having to leave the wide-open country around the farmhouse. Now, I miss the simple task of running errands.

Then I remind myself it’s all a façade. Beyond that bright skyline, a nightmare world lies, real and sinister. The simple life these people lead—eating, playing, laughing, even breathing—has a cost, and eventually they’ll pay the price.

Before I left Devlan last night, we spoke of what will take place once the barrier is brought down. I must understand the full consequences we’ll be facing. Fighting the predators of Outside is only one harsh truth. If we succeed, Karm will change in many ways.

If we’re successful in combining the Rebels, knights, and the Force, we will set up a military perimeter to deflect the cannibals’ and monsters’ attacks. Every citizen who can fight must. It will take every able body to defend Karm. Once the cannibals realize what we’ve done, they’ll destroy the compound, shutting off the power to Karm. We’ll be taken into a world more similar to Camelot than Hart ever imagined. Far closer to the old world of that time, and we’ll have to adapt.

As Devlan stated, my father, our families, and all the Taken are worth the risk.

The carriage rumbles to a stop near the podium in the middle of the square, jerking me from my strained thoughts. In the center, the platform where I once saw a man hanged stands two feet off the ground. Sebastian takes my hand as I exit the carriage. The Force lines up before us, already blocking the citizens who have grouped together to spy the prince, and now, I suppose, the princess.

Sebastian waves to his subjects and I mimic him, trying to feel not so out of place, even though I hate the action and the thought of my own importance. I drop my hand and smile instead. It seems more sincere.

My eyes scan each citizen, seeking Hadley. If I could get just one moment alone with her, I’d bring her into the know, make sure she’s aware—at least partially—of what will transpire over the next few months. She needs to be prepared for it.

She’s not here, though. My stomach plummets. She had to know that the prince was making a speech today, and that it was possible I’d join him. Where is she? I decide I’ll have to find a way to get word to her before our mission takes place, regardless of what may be keeping her from facing me.

Sebastian continues to wave and drops his head near my ear. “After my speech, we can go anywhere you’d like.”

“Thank you, Sebastian.” I can use this time to discover more about the prince and his ideas for Karm. “I’d love to visit the artisan shops. Mayhap take in the artwork of the painters.”

“Done.” He takes a step toward the podium, then turns back to me. “Stay close to Devlan and the guards.” His eyes linger on me a moment longer before he turns and walks onto the stage.

As the crowd moves in to get a better view of the platform, a woman is pushed forward. She tumbles, and one of her hands protects her swollen belly, shielding it from the edge of the platform, while the other lands on Sebastian’s booted foot.

My chest barbs with fear as two members of the Force shove past the crowd toward her. They raise their hands to apprehend her, and I step forward, but Devlan latches onto my arm.

Sebastian holds his hand up to his knights, then looks down at the pregnant woman. My breath halts, my skin prickles, my mind flashes to the arcade as Sebastian ordered the Force to torture Mr. Levine.

Reaching down, Sebastian grasps the woman’s hand, the one shakily cupping his boot, and helps her to stand. His Force stops mid-capture, their V-batons outstretched. My eyes take in the scene as Sebastian smiles at her, then raises a hand, welcoming the cheers of the crowd.

I eye Devlan, my brows raised. His features reflect my shock at seeing the prince help a commoner before we return our gazes to the stage.

Sebastian raises his hands as the applause grows. “Citizens of Karm,” he begins. “Thank you for joining me to welcome in a new season of the tournament.” The crowd hollers, their applause echoing off the buildings. Sebastian’s charisma even makes me want to cheer. He’s a natural at being in front of people and giving them exactly what they want.

As he continues his speech on the tournament, I scan the crowd. How many Rebels are here, if any? Devlan catches my eye. “No need to fear, princess,” he says in a low voice. “I will protect you from the bad men.” His lips twitch on the verge of a smile.

I look back to Sebastian, covering my own knowing smile. I suppose I’m one of the “bad men” now. However, Sebastian truly worries for my safety. This thought sobers me. To him, the Rebels are the enemy, and he endeavors to protect me from them. He has no idea one of them is his most trusted knight, and another his betrothed. I now wonder if the man I saw hung in the square was a Rebel and not a simple thief. Maybe this silent war hasn’t been so silent, only the citizens have been fully kept in the dark.

When Sebastian concludes his speech, the crack of applause jolts me back into the now. I clap as he exits the podium and his Force surrounds him. Devlan and his knights escort me toward the cobbled street in pursuit of the prince.

Behind me, the crowd attempts to push past the line of knights blocking the entrance of Commerce Street. Sebastian waits for me near an artisan’s shop.

“How was I?” A proud smile curves his lips.

“It was perfect.” And it was. He was truly born and raised to be a leader.

“It was only my second speech. The first, of course, being the transmission where I chose my lovely princess.” He winks. “The citizens are not used to having royalty address them, as the king so rarely gives speeches. But I think giving them more of this will be a good thing.”

As he talks, I smile, trying to keep my thoughts centered on my mission. Finally, I say, “I’d actually never seen any of the king’s transmissions before our betrothal. But I imagine the citizens will enjoy having their new king so respondent to them.”

He cranes an eyebrow. I’m sure my action that day in the arcade makes sense to him now. “You’ve never seen any of his transmissions. You amaze me.” He’s rendered speechless for a moment. Then he says, “Zara.” He stops walking and faces me. “After the wedding, and after I become king shortly thereafter, I want to hear your ideas.” A solemn look crosses his face.

“My lord?” I’m confused as to what ideas I’ve ever mentioned until I recall all that I told him in the garden. Optimism fills me, hoping this is his meaning.

“I have theories myself. Things I want to see changed in Karm. And I want us to make this realm a truly fantastic place. Where citizens are happy, not living in fear.” His voice is hushed, Devlan and I the only ones near enough to hear. “I want to bring Karm into a new era—for me to become a legend, for my name to live long past me.”

I’m stunned. It was my wish that day at the meadow that Sebastian would be a kind ruler and would change Karm. That we’d no longer simply abide by the laws for fear of the Force. I look to the ground, unable to form words. He can’t know. No, not speaking like this. Surely he can’t be aware of what Hart has done, is doing.

He lifts my face. “I’ve said something to worry you.” He tilts his head. “I thought this would please you. I’m doing it for the citizens as much as for you.”

I suck in a deep breath. “It does please me, Sebastian.” I smile genuinely. “More than you know.” And it’s true. It’s my proof his heart is not yet hardened like King Hart’s. He won’t agree to rule as his father does. My chest loosens with relief.

He releases my face and takes my hand, guiding me toward a storefront. I peek over my shoulder, a smile stretching my face, and spot Devlan lingering behind. A dark expression shadows his features. His eyes are etched in hard creases. I’m confused as to why he’s not overjoyed that he may not have to betray his former best friend, that there’s a chance for Sebastian to take our side and help us stop the Virus and take down the barrier.

I study Devlan’s rigid features a moment longer as his eyes seek something other than me. What happened between him and Sebastian?

As we approach the artisan’s shop of paintings and crafts, something tugs at my dress. I look sideways, and a man with deep-set wrinkles and hollow eyes grabs my arm.

My heart crashes again my chest.

“Guards!” Sebastian calls.

The man’s dark-rimmed eyes widen, and his mouth trembles open. “They’re coming for you.”

Dread envelopes my core and I shakily yank at my dress, nudging the crazed man off as the Force snatches him up.

“By order of King Hart, unhand the princess,” a knight orders. Larkin, I realize.

I feel a little better knowing at least Larkin, one of the Rebel plants, apprehends the man and not another member of the Force. I don’t think he intended to harm me. His eyes are far away, as if he’s not completely aware, lost. Does he suffer from the effects of the Virus?

The man breaks free of Larkin and bolts forward. Sebastian hauls me backward as Devlan steps in front of me. The man crashes into Devlan’s chest and is knocked to the ground. Larkin is close behind, V-Baton in hand.

A scream lodges in my throat. I prepare to order them not to hurt him, but I’m too late as the man is zapped.

He drops to his knees, and Larkin stuns him again. And then a third time. The man splays out over the cobbled roadway, his body seizing with convulsions. I cover my mouth, horrified, as he writhes and foam leaks over his lips.

I latch onto Devlan’s arm and gape from around his shoulder. My fingers dig into his solid arm. I feel Sebastian’s hand on my shoulder, trying to lead me away, but I cling there—staring at the man, petrified at seeing Larkin repeatedly shock him.

Larkin and another member of the Force lift the man, grabbing him under his arms, and start to drag him away. Before I turn away from the scene, Larkin’s gray-eyed gaze traps mine. A cruel smile drives up the corners of his mouth. I back away as his cold eyes penetrate mine, and his smile widens into a sneer.

If he’s merely playing his role as a Round Table knight, he plays it too well.

TWENTY-THREE

An hour after supper, I walk stealthily through the chill corridor. Devlan follows silently behind. Our day out of Court was cut short by the crazed man. I still have no idea what was wrong with him, or what he was trying to tell me. If it meant anything at all.

They’re coming for you.

His forbidding words echo in my mind. The look in Larkin’s eyes as he dragged the man off haunts me. Larkin seemed to take too much pleasure in executing punishment, and it was as if that punishment had been directed toward me.

Larkin wanted to keep the original Rebel plan, and now it feels like he’s personally targeting me. I recall that day at my farmhouse, when I elbowed him and spoke out against the Force. Surely he doesn’t hold a grudge against me because of that? He’s not even truly part of the Force. No, that cannot be the reason. If anything, he allowed me to get away with my treasonous actions. Now, I understand why.

I shake the pressing thoughts from my head and look straight ahead as I maneuver through the castle. It’s late, and the majority of the servants and courtiers are in their chambers. I peek around the corner of the long hallway leading to the secret room before I round the corner. When I reach the end of the hallway, Devlan surveys it one last time, then presses his hand to the wall and the door swings in.

He steps into the shadowed tunnel and grabs my hand, pulling me in front of him before he closes the door. Devlan grabs the torch and moves in front of me to lead the way down.

“You know something is wrong with Larkin,” I whisper, feeling my way along the stone wall. “What if he’s really a plant for Hart? You must have seen the look he gave me. He’s not right.”

Devlan hits the last step, turns and faces me—his face now level with mine as I’m two steps above him. “He was doing his job, Zara.” His brow furrows. “I agree Larkin has a mean streak, and he’s not happy about the change in command. But he’s not a plant for Hart.” He steps down into the dim room.

I march down and plant myself in his path. “How do you know for sure? Everyone here is carrying around secrets. How can you be sure of anyone’s true loyalties? How can I?” As I say it, I’m hit with the realization that it’s the truth. I have only just met all these players.

Devlan’s chest rises and falls, taking in deep breaths. “You’re going to have to trust me.”

“I do.”

“You’re going to have to trust that, no matter what, I won’t let anything happen to you.” His eyes bore into me, and I bite down on my lip. “Even if I didn’t know for sure he’s not a spy, I wouldn’t let Larkin anywhere near you regardless.”

He adjusts his posture, shifting more to one foot. “The man in the market was affected by the Virus.” His mouth pulls down at the corners. “Larkin’s expected to act as a knight of the Force.”

My eyebrows pinch together. “My father didn’t behave like that man.”

“Feel lucky your father didn’t suffer so.” He gives me an encouraging smile. “Now, we’re short on time.”

His words are a small comfort. My father didn’t suffer so before, that’s true, but he suffers plenty now.

I don’t question him anymore as we walk down the dark tunnel. When we near the secret entrance to the stable, he veers left, taking me down a tunnel I hadn’t noticed before. It opens up to another secret room, smaller than the chamber under the castle, but large enough to use for training.

I glance around as he places the torch in an iron sconce along the wall. “I thought you said it was too unsafe to be anywhere near the castle. Why are we here tonight?” I understand why when his face screws up, his eyebrows knitting together. Larkin is in charge of deleting our log. “You don’t really trust Larkin at all.”

Devlan releases an audible breath. “I trust that he’s not a spy. I trust that he witnessed the Force beat his father to death, and saw his mother used as a sacrifice and ripped apart. And that he wants to rescue his sister, the only family he has left, from Outside. I trust that he’s devoted to taking down Hart.”

I cringe. Hearing Larkin’s lot makes my situation seem minuscule in comparison.

Devlan’s eyes land hard on my face, fiery with the reflection of the torch. “But when it comes to you, I don’t trust his intentions. I trust no one with your life.”

I bow my head, hiding my eyes from his intense gaze, and nod. “So we can’t train at the meadow anymore?”

He walks to the corner of the room and lifts up a dark canvas, revealing shiny metal. Swords. “We’ll go there twice before we commence the mission.” He picks up a rapier and turns it over and over, examining the blade in the torchlight. “You need to practice with a couple different people to get a feel for how others attack. And Fallon wants to evaluate your progress.”

For some reason, having the little Rebel leader—another girl—monitor me makes me nervous. I stretch my arms over my head, loosening my stiff muscles, then stare at the ground, hoping that Devlan only plans on sword practice. I ache already as I imagine hitting the stone floor.

Walking over to me, he hands me a lethal-looking sword. Its blade is long and thin, but not as long as Devlan’s. The dark steel of the hilt contrasts against my hand as I grasp it. I hold it out, feeling the balance of the weapon. It’s not too heavy, but I know I’m in for extremely sore arms tomorrow.

Devlan slices his blade through the air a few times, getting a feel for the sword he picked out. “In any other situation, I’d have you suited up properly with armor. But since it’s too risky, seeing as we’re trying to be as stealthy as possible, we’ll just have to take extra care not to mortally injure one another.” A slight smile curves his mouth, but I can see the concern that he’s trying to conceal behind it.

I nod through my own fear. “Why aren’t you using your own sword?” I say, noticing he set his in the corner. “And why can’t we just use the practice swords?”

“Because our weapons are inspected.” He takes a couple more swipes. “I don’t think they’d believe I was simply hacking at cherry trees for fun.” He crooks another smile at me. “Practice swords are counted and inspected, also. I don’t want to chance anyone noticing some missing. These are from the Rebel camp.” Then his face sobers. “Zara?”

I look up. “Yes.”

“Do you believe what Sebastian told you today?” He studies me a moment, then says, “Are you convinced of his ignorance of Outside, and that he really wants change?”

His gaze is disarming. I turn my back to him and search my conscience, seeing Sebastian’s golden eyes twinkle as he spoke to me in the square. Finally, I face him. “I do.”

He nods slowly, his eyes drifting to the ground. He’s quiet for a long moment, then he walks up and stands over me. I look up into his cool eyes. “When the barrier is lowered and Hart is gone,” he says, “we’ll need Sebastian to command the Force and the army against the attack that awaits us.”

I tilt my head. “Yes, Devlan. We’ve discussed this. What are you saying?”

His eyes hold mine. “That if you trust him—if your feelings for him have changed…” He shifts his stance. “… then there’s no reason that you can’t be with him. Truly be with him, and help him command.”

My mouth falls open. I always thought that the charade would end. That I would no longer have to pose as Sebastian’s betrothed once we freed the Taken. I would find my father, cure him, and then…

What?

The barrier will be down. We’ll all be exposed to Outside and its horrors. We’ll need to fight every day to beat back the darkness.

I pull myself up straight. “So you want me to continue to be with him in order to secure an army.” I nod my head hard. “That is all I am. A piece on a chess board to manipulate, or rather, to manipulate your future leader.” I cross my arms.

Devlan’s eyes widen. “No. That’s not at all what you are, Zara.” He steps closer to me, the shard of air between us charged. “If you care for him, I just wanted you to know that there’s no reason not to be together.” He bites down on the corner of his lip, slightly exposing the dimple along his cheek. “I thought this would please you to hear.”

No, it doesn’t. And I’ve heard enough.

I exhale heavily and raise my sword.

His hand lowers the blade slowly. “It’s important that we discuss this. We have yet to set a date to commence the mission.”

“What does this have to do with the date?”

His face hardens. “If you wish to be with Sebastian, then we don’t have to rush the mission to take place before your…” He drops the point of his sword toward the floor and adjusts his footing. “It doesn’t have to be before the marriage ceremony.”

I open my mouth, then snap it closed. My face burns as hot as the torch flame lighting the room. “You’re concerned about my wedding night?” As I say it, I want to hide. He can’t truly be weighing this as part of our mission.

He exhales, releasing a strained breath. “I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to. Not even for the mission.” His eyebrows pull together. “The ceremony is still nearly two months away. I feel, if we work hard, you’ll be trained before that night.”

I nod, understanding. My eyes dance around the chamber, looking everywhere but at him.

“But,” he continues, “if you’re already feeling something for Sebastian—love, maybe—then there’s no reason why you can’t go ahead and marry him.”

I force my eyes to meet his. “Devlan, all that I have thought about since I saw my father on that damned monitor is saving him.” I grip my hilt. “There is no room in this mission for love, correct?” I study his face closely.

A muscle jumps along his jawline as his mouth tenses. “That’s how I see it. But—”

“Then it’s settled.” I turn my back to him and raise my sword. “I do not wish to marry Sebastian. I do not wish to bed him, not even for the mission. And I want to save my father as soon as possible.” I swipe my blade through the air, then face him. “Now, show me how to use this thing before I start practicing with it on your sour face.”

He blinks. “Right.” He nods once, his face unreadable, then his lips quirk into a slight smile. Clearing his throat, he takes a few steps backward. “But, Zara. Just know that you are free to do whatever you wish.” His firm stare backs his words.

I nod, and examine my sword. “How am I to stand?”

He slides his sword into his belt. Sidling up behind me, he reaches around and grasps my right hand. “You’re short.” I huff, and he chuckles. “It’s not an insult. I’m only stating the obvious, and that you must learn to do things differently than those twice, maybe three times your height.”

“Hah. Hah. Enough. I’m short.”

He chuckles and releases the sword. His hand brushes my hair over my shoulder, and his fingers skim the back of my neck. My skin prickles at the feel of his light touch, and I take in an uneven breath.

“It’s not entirely a disadvantage,” he says. I try to focus on his words as his warm breath caresses my neck. “If you own it, it can be a great advantage over a taller foe.” He covers my hand with his and points the sword straight out. “Always be in a fighting stance, or on guard. Have all your body parts tucked in tightly.” His foot taps mine, and I move it in, under my body.

“Now this”—his finger taps the metal bar above the hilt, just below the blade—“is your crossguard. It prevents your hand from sliding up the blade, and protects your hand by keeping your opponent’s blade from sliding down the blade. It won’t fully protect you, however, unless you’re also wielding a shield. But it gives some measure of defense. Since you’re smaller, you’ll handle a short sword more efficiently. You may go up against a knight wielding a longsword at some point, so I’ll teach you how to use your dagger to compensate for the difference.”

Already I feel my brain swallowing me. I practice holding my sword as instructed, and he moves in front of me, extending his. “Use your short stature to force your foe to expose weaknesses and openings to strike.”

He slides our swords together. The shrill ring of metal sliding against metal heightens my senses. “If I were fighting someone of equal height, I’d try to knock their sword to the side.” He demonstrates.

“But you want to confuse them. Tap up and to the side, opening their body to you. This will also force them to move slower, figuring out how to counter to deflect you.”

He nods encouragingly, and I tap his sword upward and over. “Good,” he says. “See, my center is exposed. Now lunge.”

I do, stopping the point of my blade right before his chest.

His eyes squint as he smiles. “Nice. Now, the torso is the main goal, but you have much more you can do by using your height to your advantage.” He slides our swords together again. “Targeting limbs is a wise move. You can’t best them with strength, so you want to disarm them. Force their arm down and at an angle so they have no choice but to expose their hand from around the guard.”

He does this by tapping my sword down, but I keep my arm level. “See, you have the advantage. You are already low to the ground.”

I glare.

“But they are not,” he adds quickly. “Because they must lower their sword, they expose their wrist, and it’s the quickest and closest body part to strike.” He nods. “Go ahead. Try it.”

I take a deep breath and tap his sword toward the ground. I see what he’s saying. Excitement flutters in my chest as his wrist becomes visible behind the crossguard. I eagerly thrust—only stopping my sword from connecting too late.

“Shit—”

“Oh.” I drop the sword. “Devlan, are you all right? I tried to pull it back.”

He wraps his hand around his injured wrist. “I guess I should’ve told you just how badly that hurts.” He shakes out his hand. A strained laugh escapes his lips. “Let’s stop it before, shall we?”

My face flames, and I anchor my fists to my hips. “Yes, wise teacher. Maybe you should explain thoroughly before telling your student to ‘go ahead.’” I scowl, but can’t help the smile breaking through my twitching lips.

Devlan crooks a smile, his eyes a light and clear blue. “Touché.”

After he shows me a few more moves, we dance back and forth over the stone floor. Forward and backward as we tap blades. I never knew sword fighting was so enjoyable. I love the feel of the sword in my hand, and the fact that my height doesn’t appear to be a weakness. Rather, I’ve learned I have more angles of attack; my foe will have to compensate, not me.

The side of Devlan’s blade swats my forearm. “In,” he orders monotonically, reminding me to keep my arm behind the crossguard.

I roll my shoulder and come at him again. He retreats, and I see his foot still in attack position. I quickly tap his sword upward and drive mine down, capturing his toe beneath the tip of my blade. “In,” I mock.

Devlan’s eyes gleam. Before I can gloat further, he knocks my blade to the side and circles it with his own, relieving me of my weapon. As it falls, he dives forward, catching it with his free hand.

He crosses the blades, his hands before his chest, and advances. I retreat until my back hits the wall. He blocks me in, blades on either side of my head.

“Never. Take. Your eyes. Off your opponent.” His own eyes lock with mine, and his heavy breaths fan my face, my lips.

His dark hair falls across his forehead into his eye, and I nearly lift my hand to brush it aside. Balling my hand into a fist by my thigh, I stop myself from reaching out. His smile fades as his eyes roam the features of my face. His lips part slightly, and his face moves closer.

My breath stills in my lungs.

He drops the swords to his sides. Then he tilts his head as his face nears mine. Our cheeks nearly touch—my skin a live current as his lips brush my ear. “You’ve forgotten about your secret weapon.”

My breath whooshes out. “Damn. I forgot about my dagger.” I could’ve easily grabbed it and…I don’t know. Maybe thrown it at him to get away.

Tilting his head back, his eyes stare at me through half-lidded slits. His finger traces up my arm, sending shivers dancing along my spine. “I wasn’t referring to your dagger.”

I squint, and his finger slowly backtracks down its heated trail. “A woman has a disarming weapon that, I firmly believe, no man is capable of resisting.”

My breath halts. My heart slams against my chest. I don’t breathe again until his lips stretch into an easy smile and his eyes shimmer with mock-humor, releasing me from his spell.

“I don’t believe I have the necessary skills, Devlan, to vex a man in that way.”

He backs away two steps and hands me my sword, then turns and heads toward the corner of the room. I release a frustrated breath, lay my sword to the side, and rub the still-tingling skin of my arm.

“Trust me, Zara.” His head snaps in my direction, his eyes devoid of humor. “You do.”

TWENTY-FOUR

The domed grid streaks the overcast sky, turning the usually bright-green lawn into a rolling field of blue and gray. I gather my white gown, lifting the hem above the grass, and march toward the lake.

I glance back at Devlan. His scowl is already apparent as he knows what I’m about to say.

Once at the bank, I settle down on the grass. Devlan looms beside me. “Zara.” He speaks low, into the wind, so the Eyes can’t pick up his voice. “You’re not ready.”

I pluck a lone dandelion. “I may never be ready, Devlan. But every day the barrier stands is another day I risk my father’s life.”

He doesn’t respond to this. He knows it’s the truth. His parents are out there, too, but his situation is different from mine. His parents work inside Morgana and aren’t considered for sacrifices. My father is a grunt worker, and could be tossed to the cannibals at the next Yielding.

Turning away from me, Devlan laces his arms over his chest and walks the bank.

I frown at his impossible resistance to hearing me out and blow the puffs of white seed. They float off with the breeze, scattering over the lake.

The past couple of weeks have lulled me into a steady rhythm, with most of my days spent alongside Madity, preparing for the marriage ceremony, and the others with Sebastian as he readies Karm for the grandest tournament ever, making way for a new king.

During the nights, I’ve trained to become the assassin that will free Karm of its dictatorial king.

Each day I grow more anxious. We need to initiate the mission as soon as possible, as I fear my father could be forced to the front of the line. I know I can convince Sebastian to take me to meet the king now, rather than waiting for the night of the wedding, but Devlan continues to insist that I need more training.

I do understand his point. We only have one shot when the time comes, and I have to be at my best. I sigh with resignation. I just don’t know how much longer I can bear my father being Outside.

“We’re meeting Fallon at the meadow tonight.” Devlan says, interrupting my brooding. He moves closer and kneels before me. “She’ll evaluate your progress, and we’ll discuss timing with her. That’s final.”

Looking past his gaze, I focus on the dark water as it ripples over the lake, the breeze carrying a silent plea in my heart. Devlan is the first knight to Sebastian, but he’s first and foremost a Rebel, and he’s committed. Whatever Fallon decides, she’s the leader—his leader. There will be no arguing with him if she says I’m not ready.

Devlan’s communicator crackles inside his vest. He brings it to his lips. “Devlan.”

A short hiss, then a voice says, “His Highness has requested an early assembly in the great hall. Bring the princess.”

My brow creases as I study Devlan’s face. He accepts the request, and slips the device back into his vest. “Do you know what this is about?” I ask.

He shakes his head, his face set in hard lines. “No. But let’s not keep His Highness waiting.” He rises and pulls me up beside him.

As we hurry toward the castle, my thoughts are occupied with my perplexing relationship with Sebastian nearly as much as with the mission.

The prince has been consumed with the tournament, which has given me ample time to slip away and train and has also kept him from pressuring my affections. In the time I do spend with him, we talk about the changes he wants to make in Karm, and I believe we’ve developed a tentative friendship. Deceiving Sebastian daily twists my insides with gnawing guilt.

I wish there were a way to tell him the truth. If I confessed his father is to die at my hands, though, I fear the same darkness that is in Hart would consume the prince. If the Taken are to be freed, Sebastian has to trust me; he can never know the complete truth. It’s an impossible situation, and one that I haven’t found a solution to yet.

If he would only acknowledge the evil in his father and give me a hint he wishes him gone, then I could act, but he loves and respects his father too dearly. I’ve thought of unmasking the truth of Outside to him, in hopes he’d see that his father needs to be eliminated, but that may in fact have the opposite effect, turning him against me and pushing him closer to King Hart.

My thoughts have come full circle, and I’m back to the Rebels’ plan. Swaying Sebastian to join us after his father is no longer an influence—and he’s no longer trying to prove himself to the king as a strong leader—is the best approach.

When I think of my father and all the others Outside, laboring, mindless slaves to be slaughtered by cannibals, I know I can’t risk Sebastian discovering the truth. No matter how much the guilt eats at me.

As Devlan and I enter the hall, we pass citizens waiting in line to greet the prince. Since Sebastian undertook the tournament as his personal project, Karm adores him all the more. They see what I see in him: a chance for change. King Hart has been silent all this time, hidden away, most likely watching his realm change slowly. The televised punishments have ceased, the Force no longer walk the streets instilling fear, and all their orders come from Sebastian.

And we work silently and cleverly, behind the scenes, ensuring that our mission unfolds seamlessly.

How long will Hart allow his son to entertain his visions before he reveals the truth to him? Hart probably has no fear that his son will take over Karm in the way he intends.

The early-morning sun filters through the stained-glass windows, casting the room in rich hues. I find Sebastian seated in the lone pew at the head of the hall. Devlan and I make our way over, and once I’m seated, I turn toward Sebastian and raise my eyebrows. “Is there something I should know?”

His lips spread into a wide, knowing smile. “All will be revealed shortly,” he says, then waves away the gathered citizens before he kisses the top of my hand.

I shake my head lightly, happy to see him so excited, and figure it’s something about the tournament. I have to admit, since he’s taken it on, he’s less vain. Maybe not less cocky, but less narcissistic, now that his focus is on a big project.

His eyes drink me in a moment longer, his smile stretching. Devlan rounds the pew to take his station at the end of our row and Sebastian’s smile fades. His eyes trail after his first knight. Ever since the day in Town Square, when the crazed man threatened me, something has changed between them.

I’ve asked Devlan what could’ve possibly happened to make Sebastian turn so cold toward the knight he elevated because he wanted to rekindle a friendship. But Devlan denies that there is anything to be concerned with, claiming that nothing has changed between them.

I study Sebastian now. His face is pinched, his form tense. There is something very apparent between them. I remember the crazed man, me being frightened and clinging to Devlan in my fear, and Sebastian’s hands on my shoulders, trying to lead me away from the scene. Does Sebastian take offense that I didn’t turn to him for protection or comfort? It wasn’t as if it was a conscious decision. Devlan was there—the closest to me when I reached out. That is all.

Although, maybe Sebastian doesn’t see it that way. If he doesn’t, then wouldn’t he have removed the first knight as my personal guard?

The friar takes his position behind the altar and raises his hands. “Citizens of Karm, thank you for joining us early on this Sabbath day.” His eyes search the crowd. He is about to ask again if anyone believes Sebastian and I should not be united. I have no fear of anyone denouncing it.

He pushes the sleeves of his robe up and continues. “It’s an honor to announce that King Hart has a special address for his subjects before the crying of the banns.”

Fear grips my chest, and I turn to see a stoic Sebastian. A smile flits across his lips, and I force my lips to return it. He knew his father was to speak today. But about what? My skin slicks with sweat, and I now doubt the surprise has anything to do with the tournament.

The monitor along the back of the wall flickers and crackles.

I try to sit up straight, and look directly at the screen. Someday soon I’ll confront King Hart face to face, so I brace myself to be strong. I won’t allow him to intimidate me as he did during the betrothal. I envision my father in the pitch black of Outside, his face dirty and his eyes lost, and anger replaces the knots in my stomach.

King Hart’s pale face appears on the monitor. I force my breathing to steady as his cold eyes scan the hall. “Greetings, citizens. Thank you for coming together in praise of our Lord, and to hear the banns for our future king and his queen.” He pauses, smiles. “I could not be prouder of the fine job my son has accomplished in his endeavors to make this year’s tournament the best ever. And because the last day of the tournament is always the most prestigious, I want to make it an even grander occasion.”

A chill works its way down my spine. The tense knots are back, and I look to Sebastian for clarity. His face only reveals pride. He’s devouring all the praise his father is lavishing on him, and he knows already what is coming.

“I know the marriage ceremony between Prince Sebastian and Princess Zara was to take place over a month from now,” Hart says, then pauses for effect. “But I want the occasion to be truly memorable. The wedding is to be held on the last day of the tournament.”

An awed response sounds through the hall.

My stomach plummets, free-fall. My airways seal tight, and I lean forward and gasp air into my lungs. My eyes flick to Devlan before I can think better. He’s unmoved, mask in place, and that snaps me back into my senses.

Hart continues. “It will be the finest day in all of Karm!”

Applause booms, and the air is sucked from the room. I straighten my spine and force a smile. I can’t meet Hart’s eyes. I can’t look at the excited expressions on the citizen’s faces. I focus on the altar—something to center the spinning room.

“Prince Sebastian will be crowned King the following day. Karm will bask in a new era and its continued longevity as the leading realm in all the world.”

The crowds bound to their feet. Their echoed shouts and joyous applause pierce my nerves. I have no choice but to join them as Sebastian rises from the pew and turns to acknowledge their praise. He kisses my cheek, his eyes lit with excitement, then turns toward the monitor and bows to his father.

My limbs tremble, but I face the screen and bow low before lifting my head to stare into King Hart’s piercing gray eyes. They seem to stare, hard and cold, right back at me.

He knows.

TWENTY-FIVE

“How can you be sure Hart doesn’t know?” I ask Devlan, taking a seat on the log. The meadow is dark and the chilly air pervades my bones, sinking Hart’s announcement deeper into my being.

Devlan crosses his arms over his chest and faces me. “Hart has moved up the marriage ceremony at the request of Sebastian,” he says, his brows furrowed. “This has nothing to do with him suspecting an attack.”

“How can you be so positive?”

He releases a heavy sigh and walks the river bank. Devlan’s lack of response infuriates me almost as much as the smug look Sebastian wore all day.

Shaking my head again, I look down at my black pants, run my palm over my thigh. We’re anxiously waiting for Fallon to meet us, and Xander awaits her just as anxiously as he lurks near the woods, keeping watch. Larkin remains at the castle, making sure we get in and out of the court grounds undetected. We’ve trusted him all this time to do so, and so far he hasn’t given Devlan a reason not to. I’m still unconvinced of his loyalties, but I have no choice if I’m to continue my training, for however long I may have.

Everyone is in an uproar as to what should be done. The wedding date being moved up means the mission is moved up. We have little time left.

I have little time left.

All day, my mind has been a muddle of conspiracy theories. The only reason for King Hart to move up the wedding is because he suspects the Rebels are up to something, and somehow crowning Sebastian as king sooner will halt our efforts. It’s the only logical explanation.

Hart wants Sebastian—a stronger, unconfined leader—to take out the Rebels.

I kick at a rock on the ground. “Devlan, I’m going mad. I had over a month left to train, and now I may only have a week.” I walk up to him. Stand right before him. “I demand to know what your brain is deducing of this.”

“Is that an order, princess?”

I scowl.

He groans and glances at Xander, then takes my arm and leads me farther into the woods. When we’re out of earshot, he stops and faces me. “This has nothing to do with Hart suspecting anything. Sebastian fears your affections are for another. He wants to ensure you are his wife soon.” His brow creases. “That’s all.”

“Ridiculous.” I look to the moon peeking through the treetops before meeting his eyes again. “All this because Sebastian fears I have fallen for someone else?” He nods once, and I scoff. “And just who does he fear I have eyes for?” I ask, but the answer had already wormed its way into my mind earlier today.

Devlan stares into my eyes. “I’ve been removed as your personal guard.”

My mouth parts, and I’m about to deny it—my mind already working to remedy the situation—but he continues past the uncomfortable silence. “So. There it is. Hart knows nothing. Though that doesn’t change the predicament we’re in. We’ve argued when the right time to commence the mission would be, and now it looks as if that’s been determined for us.”

“Devlan,” I say his name calmly. “If you believe Sebastian’s paranoia over my affections is the only reason, then nothing has changed. I’ve been insisting we should do the mission sooner. Maybe not so soon as a week…” I cringe. “But it’s all right. We’ll wait until Fallon and you think I’m ready.”

His face sets hard, determined. “No. Something else can

be done—”

I place my finger over his lips, halting what I’m sure will be a rant, then slowly lower my hand. “This does not change the mission. It will proceed on as planned.”

His lips twist into a stubborn frown. “Regardless, Zara, this adds another complication.” I raise my eyebrows. “Sebastian will be made king. Hart will take him into his confidence after he’s crowned. If we wait, we’ll no longer be eliminating only Hart.”

He’s right. No matter what Sebastian wants for Karm—his dreams, his visions—all will be lost when his father reveals his wishes for him to take over Outside. Even if Sebastian tries to fight it, in the end, Hart will find a way to force his son into submission. He is that evil.

If I want to save my father and all those Outside, along with Sebastian as well, I have no choice but to meet Hart before the ceremony. I will not put my dagger to Sebastian’s throat. I will not kill Devlan’s friend, no matter the bad blood between them, and allow Devlan to live with the guilt.

“Fine. I wanted the mission to take place sooner.” I finally meet his eyes and suck in a deep breath. “I’ll train harder this week. You’ll teach me all that you know, and I’ll make Sebastian take me to Hart.” I glare at him. “On the last day of the tournament.”

“Zara—”

“No more.” I shake my head. “I’ve made my decision.” I stalk toward the river bank before he can see the tears glistening in my eyes. If I’m to be strong and fearless, I can’t allow the Rebel first knight to see my fear.

A rustling calls our attention toward the forest, and Fallon and Silas step from behind the treeline, the moonlight bathing them in a haunting glow.

Xander and Fallon spot each other, and they look at one another only a moment before they rush into each other’s arms. Xander pulls back slightly, running his hands along her face. A tiny seam in my heart tears as he pulls her to him, his lips caressing hers passionately. I’ve never witnessed—nor felt—that kind of love, and my heart swells with renewed commitment to complete the mission for their sake.

As they continue to greet each other, my face flushes, and I glance at Devlan. He’s trying to give them their privacy also as his eyes search the trees, then they meet mine. We stare at each other for an awkward moment while the couple reunites in front of us. My face flames hotter, and I walk away and sit on one of the logs.

Devlan joins me on the other log as I toss a rock into the river. “They’re very in love.” I peek over at him.

He smiles. “Yes. Rather quickly, too. But I believe it’s real. Only”—his eyes sweep the couple briefly—“it can be dangerous.”

I tilt my head. “How so? At least if nothing else, they’ll have each other if this whole thing falls apart. They won’t have to suffer alone.”

He nods. “True. But when you allow your heart to rule your actions, sometimes you don’t make the wisest choices—what needs to be done—for others.” His forehead wrinkles. “I fear that kind of all-consuming love can only cause complications.”

I hear what’s he’s saying, and I do agree. I glance back at the couple as they finally separate and make their way toward the center of the clearing, hand in hand. I can’t see either of them sacrificing the other if they were faced with a choice between their mission and their love. It’s logical, what Devlan believes—but I long to know what it would feel like to be loved so fully and passionately.

I rise from my seat. “Come on. I want to hear what Fallon has to say.”

Devlan follows me over to the Rebel leader, and I greet her and Silas with a nod of my head.

She nods back, then her lips twist into a mock-smile. “Congratulations.”

I frown. “You’ve already heard?”

“Even if we didn’t have the communicators”—she waggles hers—“it’s all over Karm. The realm is abuzz with the news of your marriage and of Prince Sebastian becoming king.”

“Well, thank you for the condolences.” I give her my own mock-smile. “But what do you think we should do?”

She looks at Devlan. “How is her training going?”

“She’s exceeded my every expectation so far,” he tells her, and my cheeks warm at his compliment. “But she’s not ready to face King Hart.”

My stomach sinks, and I open my mouth to speak for myself, but Devlan continues. “However, I don’t believe we have a choice on timing anymore. As you’ve clearly stressed, Sebastian can’t be factored in. It will complicate too many things. We don’t know if Hart has some trigger on the Force if both he and his son are taken out.” He straightens to attention. “I’m willing to go in her place.”

“The hell you are, Devlan.” I cross my arms and level a knowing look at him. “Sebastian won’t accommodate your wishes to see the king. I’m the only one that can do this. And I’m ready.”

Fallon steps between us. “Wait.” She turns to me. “I’ll decide just how ready you are. Show me what you got.” She nods once and gets into an attack position.

Taken off-guard, I step back, but then lower myself into a defensive stance. I run my hand over my thigh, feeling the dagger strapped beneath my black suit.

Before I’m completely ready, she lunges and grabs me around my waist, hauling me into the air. I’m so shocked that the girl who is only a couple of inches taller than me has lifted me, I forget what I practiced with Devlan. Gathering my senses, I kick her shins and break her hold. She grunts and drops me to the ground.

“Nice.” She rubs one of her legs, and then immediately comes at me again.

I block her swing with my arm and deliver my own punch. But she dips low, bending at the waist, her body absorbing the blow. She hauls my captured arm over her shoulder, and I’m sent to the ground again.

Dammit. I really hate that.

She raises her foot to deliver a strike to my midsection. I roll and she stomps the ground. Getting to my feet, I eye her, and we start to circle each other.

She crouches and unsheathes a knife from her boot. I’ve practiced with weaponry many times over the past couple of weeks, but only with Devlan. I know his moves, and I’m afraid I’ll end up really cutting her—or she’ll really cut me. From the look in her eyes, it’s a good possibility that she takes combat practice even more seriously than Devlan, if that’s possible. I push through my hesitation and take out my dagger, grabbing it through the slit in my pants that’s for just this purpose.

Fallon twirls her dagger, slashing the air before her, then swipes at me. I hop sideways and bring my dagger down in a defensive arc against her blade. The clinking of metal meeting metal echoes through the forest.

We’re nearly the same size, and she uses similar tactics to mine. It’s frustrating. I’m not sure how to come at her. Her knife carves the air above my head as I just duck. A grunt rips from my throat as my back bends at an odd angle.

Recovering, I scramble backward. We break off for a moment and stare each other down.

She glimpses the guys standing on the sideline. “Wipe the dumb smiles off your faces.” I follow her gaze. All three of them wear smirks. Xander attempts to cover his with his hand. I sneak a glance at Devlan. His lips are curled into a lopsided grin, revealing his dimples. He winks.

A sharp pain splinters the back of my head, and my legs are kicked out from under me. “Oomph.” My back hits the ground hard. Fallon straddles my stomach and sinks her dagger into the ground next to my head.

She smiles down at me, and I pant out the pain piercing my back in clipped breaths. “I know. I know. Never take your eyes off your opponent.”

Her smile stretches. “You know, if it wasn’t for Devlan’s handsome face, I’m not sure I would’ve won in the end.” She bats her eyes at me several times, and I flip her off me. She laughs.

My face heats as I get to my feet, then I look down and extend my hand. She takes it and I pull her up. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. His face isn’t that handsome.” She smirks, and I quickly change the subject before she can land a comeback. “And you would’ve taken me, anyway. I was barely hanging on there.”

“Zara. I’ve trained nearly my whole life.” She tilts her head, studies me. “You’ve only trained for two weeks. Devlan’s correct. You’re amazing.”

My face flushes so hot at her praise I fear it’s glowing in the dark. “Thank you, Fallon.” It’s all I can say to the Rebel leader. She nods, and I sheath my dagger. I walk to the river, sink my hands into the cool water, and splash my face.

Footsteps rustle the leaves along the ground. I look over as Devlan squats next to me. “I can’t believe you lasted that long with her.” He shakes his head. “Fallon is fierce and rarely beaten.” He nudges me. “That was most impressive.”

“I had a good teacher.” I beam at him. “But don’t allow that to go to your head.”

He holds up his hands. “Never.”

I smile, enjoying our banter. Ever since I began training, Devlan has been too serious, even more so than before I discovered he was a Rebel. True, it’s a serious time, but I always see another side of him when in the company of his friends. I wonder if one day he’ll consider me as such, or if I’m only ever going to be his duty.

I stand when Fallon approaches us with Xander and Silas in tow. The Rebel leader fists her hands on her hips. “Devlan, I believe Zara will be ready in another week. She’s a natural.” She glances at me. “Like her father, through and through.”

My chest aches with pride, and I blink a few times to clear my blurring vision. “You really think I can do it.” It’s not a question.

She nods once. “I do.”

I look to Devlan, and his face falls, his features quitting their earlier relaxed expression. His form tenses as he straightens his back and squares his shoulders. “I’ll have her ready then.”

Fallon turns toward Silas and extends her hand. He places a small vial with a clear substance in her palm. She hands the vial to Devlan. “I brought this along, just in case Zara was ready.” She looks at me. “As promised, we’re giving you all the help we can.”

As I watch Devlan hold the vial up to the moonlight, my body shudders.

Help or not—this is it. In less than six days, I face King Hart.

TWENTY-SIX

Before the start of the first tourney, I take off on the horse I now call my own. I named her Sterlyn, because her coat is a silvery, luminescent white, like the illumined ring that surrounds the darkened moon during an eclipse.

She’s my light in a world of darkness. I ride her every free chance I get.

Sebastian gave her to me last week, along with a key to the stable. It was tempting, at the time, to ride her out past the wall and disappear, but it was only a fleeting thought.

Nothing can deter me from my mission.

I ride hard, clearing my mind of all distracting thoughts. My new personal guard, Xander, gallops his gray horse behind me.

The irony that Sebastian has placed yet another Rebel as my guard hasn’t escaped me. Although I’m sure Devlan had some say in who would take over his post, I haven’t yet seen him to ask.

I press my palm against my chest, feeling the communicator tucked inside my bodice. I know he’s just the push of a button away if I need him, but I’ve become used to having him with me at all times. I feel as if something is missing, hollow—and I constantly look behind me, searching.

At least I don’t have to keep up pretenses around Xander. That would be too exhausting while also dealing with the knowledge that I only have five nights left to train.

Glancing up at the morning sun, I gauge how much I’ve already used of the day, wishing it would sink completely and I’d already be on my way to meet with Devlan.

“Whoa, girl.” I slow Sterlyn as we near the stable fence.

Xander trots his horse up next to us. “I’ve just been informed that Sebastian requests your presence at the tournament.”

I close my eyes for a moment, savoring the still quiet, then nod. “Let’s get this day over with.”

After we stable the horses, we make our way toward the back of the castle. The training ground has been transformed into an elaborate stadium. Bleachers rise toward the sky, and on each corner post, silver and blue flags flap in the breeze. In the center, knights gather to face off against one another as the crowd cheers.

Sebastian has given us a useful distraction. He’ll be preoccupied with the tourneys, and Hart will be planning his son’s initiation into his world of delusion. With so much going on, it should be easy to find time to myself to train extra throughout the day. Even if Devlan can’t be with me, I can sneak to the meadow to practice, knowing that Sebastian can’t follow.

I breathe a little easier as I weave my way through the crowd to find my seat. Xander points around my shoulder toward a boxed-in area high in the stands. The place where royalty and nobility are to be seated. As King Hart never leaves his secret chamber, Sebastian and I will be the only royals there.

Glancing around, I search for Hadley. Sebastian has denied my every attempt to invite her to the castle. He believes I should embrace my new friends—the Court ladies—and involve myself among them. Regardless, I still need to send word to Hadley somehow. Devlan feels we’ll have enough time once Hart is removed, and then I should be able to convince Sebastian to allow her into Court.

Until that time, I must play by the rules. Sebastian can’t suspect anything out of the norm. Our mission must come first.

I can’t spot my best friend anywhere, and I shake my head. Soon, I tell myself. After the mission is complete, I will find her.

As I reach the box, I look down the row for Sebastian, but he’s not here yet. I spot Cecily seated on the end and quickly plant myself in the first seat, farthest away from her. I’m strung too tight and, though I’m saddened by her situation, will snap at her if she tries to vex me. I’m in no mood to play her games.

Xander sits down next to me and I scrunch my brow. Where’s Sebastian?

The announcer below addresses the crowd, drawing my attention. He introduces the first contest as the melee. I remember Devlan saying it was the only one he’s entered.

The speaker continues. “The winner of this battle will face off with Sir Devlan Capra, last season’s champion, in the tourney’s last battle, to claim the title of reigning champion over the tournament!” The crowd cheers. My eyes sweep the stands for Sebastian again. I’m lost as to why he’s missing out on what he’s worked so hard for.

The announcer waves a white flag and the knights on the field clash, a metallic clanking of swords and armor. At first, they cluster into groups, teaming up and fighting against other groups of knights. The clang of weapons echoes throughout the stadium, and the sun glints off armor as the knights cleave the air with their swords.

No one has been injured so far. I recall Devlan running my finger along the blade, and explaining that the knights use dull swords in the tournament. Kill shots are determined by the regulators along the sidelines. I have to admit, after learning the sword and fighting tactics, the sport has my heart pounding. I’m invested in seeing who comes out the winner—who will take on Devlan in the last match.

The melee ground is frantic. The knights make instant judgments regarding companion and enemy, quickly taking out team after team. There can be only one knight left standing. Sooner than I expect, the field thins, and the members of the group that’s winning begin turning on each other. The knights dwindle from fifty to five. It’s now every knight for himself.

Xander points toward something on the field. I lean forward and squint. “The knight with the darkest armor,” he says. “Do you see him?”

I strain harder. “Yes, I see him.” The knight is teamed up with the odd man out, and together they take on another knight. “He’s good.” I look at Xander.

His brows rise as he nods toward the field. “That’s Sebastian.”

My head snaps back to the battle. “He said he only enters the joust. What is he doing fighting his knights?”

“He has something to prove.” Devlan’s voice comes from behind me.

My stomach flutters, but I keep my head forward, my eyes trained on the knights. “To me or to you?”

Devlan’s quiet a moment before he says, “Both, probably.” Then, as the stadium erupts with cheers, he leans down close to my ear. “See you tonight. Don’t be late.”

As he leaves, I can’t help the smile that tugs at the corner of my mouth. The thought of training with him fills me with renewed purpose for my mission.

Before parting ways with Fallon and Silas the night before, we went over our plan of attack for once I get inside Hart’s secret chamber. We’d discussed it vaguely the first time I was taken into the Rebel camp, but my mind had been too hammered by new information to process the task completely. With time against us, I’ll need to know each step of my mission as if it’s second nature.

After Fallon gave us the vial of clear liquid, she admitted her fondness for poisons, saying a woman should never have to engage in an altercation if she can easily rid herself of her foe. I like her way of thinking. I believe, if we all survive this in the end, Fallon and I could be friends.

I truly hope we survive.

The poison—sleeping potion—is for Sebastian. He’ll go down shortly after we enter the king’s chamber. Then the Rebels, who will have tracked me through a chip in my communicator, will handle the guards outside the secret room while I take out Hart.

I’ll then find the Excalibur mainframe, and if I can discover the antidote at the same time, I’ll swipe a sample so the Rebels can study it and develop more. After I’ve completed my tasks, I’ll lie next to Sebastian and “come to” with him, feigning that we both passed out.

Then it’s on to the next step—convincing Sebastian to join forces with the Rebels.

All this presses down on me, and I’m even more anxious to train with Devlan—to have him reassure me that I’m ready. My hands slick with sweat and my stomach tingles at the thought of seeing him.

The crowd hisses, and my attention is drawn back to the battle as Sebastian takes a hard hit across his chest. I hold my breath. He’s kneeling, not completely taken out of the tourney, but the knight who delivered the blow now raises his sword to finish him with a kill shot.

I search the field. They are the only ones left. One of them will be the victor.

The knight aims for Sebastian’s heart and drives his sword downward. But before it meets its mark, Sebastian sweeps his sword above the ground, taking out the knight’s feet. Sebastian bounds up—too quickly for having been injured—and slices his blade across the knight’s neck.

The crowd jumps to its feet, and applause and cheers rock the stadium. I stand and clap, pulling my eyebrows together, then lean close to Xander. “Is it common practice in battle to fake an injury?”

Xander shakes his head slightly. “No. It’s considered a dirty move.” He claps, and adds, “But for the sport, it’s even lower. At least among those who know battle courtesy.” He glances around at the cheering crowd.

I nod my understanding. As I stare at Sebastian—his arms raised high above his head, taking bows for his adoring fans—I wonder if that’s the only dirty move he’s ever pulled.

* * *

Where the knights’ armory used to be, a giant party tent now stands, glimmering against the dark backdrop of the castle. Tiny white lights dot the trees and the tent’s roof. They drape the sides of the tent, and ground torches are scattered around the perimeter, making the scene glow with warmth. Roasting lamb and venison scent the air, and flames roar in stone pits as the meat rotates above.

The celebration for the first day of the tournament is well underway. I press through the thick crowd of bodies, nodding and greeting courtiers as they congratulate me on Sebastian’s win. When I finally find Sebastian, he’s draped with ladies all pining for his attention.

I squeeze through and say, “There you are, my lord. I’ve been searching for you everywhere.” I smile to the maidens and they slant their eyes at me, pulling away from the prince.

Sebastian’s eyes brighten. “Ladies, I hope you enjoy the rest of the tournament,” he says to them as he wraps an arm around me. “Excuse me.”

I see many pouts and scowls shot in my direction, but I ignore them. Soon, they’ll have Sebastian as a bachelor to game after once again.

He releases me from his hold and extends his arm. I slip my hand into the crook of his elbow. He turns toward Xander. “You’re relieved of your duties for the night.”

Xander glances at me, his brown eyes searching, and I nod. It will be better if we don’t have an audience. “Please enjoy the party, Sir Xander,” I tell him.

He bows low. “Your Highnesses.”

Sebastian leads us to the garden, and we walk in companionable silence toward its center as I plan a way to broach his cheapened victory. What Xander told me about his actions during the melee conflicts with the Sebastian I’ve come to know, and I’m curious as to why he—a prince—would stoop so low to win a simple contest.

The scent of jasmine hits my nose as we pass through the latticed opening. The fountain gleams in the moonlight as if tiny diamonds flow over its stone instead of water. I take a seat on one of the stone benches and look up at him.

“Congratulations on your victory,” I say. “I had no idea you had entered the melee.” I tilt my head, a practiced pout stamped on my face. “Were you intent on surprising me, or was this a last-minute decision?”

A smile crooks his lips. “Honestly, it was decided last minute. After putting the tournament together, I wondered why I shouldn’t enjoy it as a participant, too.” He settles down beside me and takes my hand.

“So are you entered into all the contests?” I ask. If he is, I could definitely find time to sneak away and train. He can’t watch the stands all the time.

He looks to our joined hands and laces his fingers through mine. “Nay. Just the melee and the joust.” His eyes find mine again, and I force a small smile. I’ll have to continue to find ways to escape his notice.

I nudge his shoulder. “I have a confession.” I try to sound as innocent as possible. “I have no idea what happened out there today.” I laugh. “All the rules make no sense to me. What was that move—the one you used to win at the end? Is there a name for it?”

His form stiffens. His grip tightens on my hand. Maybe I’ve just overstepped, but he relaxes a bit. “I’ve never seen you interested in anything concerning the knights before.” He releases my hand and wraps his arm around my waist. “Or are you simply searching for words to fill the air between us?” He pulls me closer to him.

Smiling, I lightly push against his chest, backing away. “Sebastian, I was only curious.” He has successfully evaded my question and made me uncomfortable. I’m not going to get the answer I want, so I need to end this before I give him the wrong impression. “Well, it is late. I’ve had an exhausting day just watching the tourneys, so I know you must be tired.”

I stand, but he immediately pulls me back down onto his lap. “Zara.” He breathes my name, nuzzling his face next to my ear. “What tires me are your games.” My chest tightens; my scalp prickles. His hand brushes my hair aside, and he kisses my neck.

I pull back. “Sebastian, we’re not wed.” I try to stand again, but he grips my arms tightly, holding me there.

“That’s what this is about?” He scoffs. “You won’t kiss me because we’re not married?” His hand grasps my jaw, turning my face toward his. “Look me in the eye and say this is the reason.”

I yank back. “Stop it, Sebastian.”

He cups the back of my neck with one hand and holds my jaw firmly with the other, forcing me to look into his eyes. “Say it, Zara. Say the real reason you will not kiss me, or even touch me.”

I grit my teeth, ball my hands into fists—restrain myself from breaking his jaw. I look into his eyes. “Release me, Sebastian.” I twist my arms and push my forearms against his, giving one final yank backward, and free myself. I run.

Not because I’m scared of what he’ll do to me, but rather of what I might do to him if he persists.

As I near the entrance of the garden, I’m jerked backward by my skirt. Sebastian twirls me around and grabs my arms, backing me into the lattice wall. He lowers his face before mine. “I want to hear it from your lips that there is no other reason you will not give yourself to me.” His heated breath fans my face, and I struggle against him. “Say it.”

His hold on my arms tightens as he pushes me harder against the lattice. His body presses against mine and he grabs my wrists, sliding my hands above my head as he bears all his weight on me. My mind calculates all the ways I could break free of him—all the ways that would have him questioning me. I know I can’t show that I’ve learned to defend myself.

Finally, I give in to his demand, though all I want to do is strike him. I meet his wild eyes. “It is my wish to be married before I’m physical with my husband.” I use the adrenaline burning inside me to shed a tear for good measure. My body shakes.

He releases me, and I grasp one of my wrists, massaging the ache away as much as preventing myself from punching his face. “What is wrong with you?” I say, low and breathy.

His shoulders sag, and he looks to the ground. “I had too much to drink at the celebration,” he admits. “I’m sorry.” As he lifts his head, his eyes search me; his brows pull together. “I’m sorry, Zara. I’ve just been so lost as to why I cannot make you mine.”

I hold his dejected gaze a moment longer, my body thrumming with conflicted fury. I turn my back on him and start out of the garden, saying over my shoulder, “I forgive you, Sebastian.” Then I march toward the castle.

When he is King, I’ll have all the liquor in Karm disposed of.

Suddenly, I stop. I look back toward the garden. My face pinches, remembering the smell of his mint breath. There wasn’t a trace of alcohol.

TWENTY-SEVEN

I wait for Devlan in the secret chamber under the court grounds. After contacting him through the communicator, I requested that we meet earlier than planned. I couldn’t pace my room, continually replaying the garden scene in my mind, any longer.

The celebration is still going on, and looks like it will continue long into the night if not the early morning. Xander is keeping the prince and knights under close watch so I can train. And though Sebastian was sober in the garden, I’m sure he is now drinking himself into oblivion.

Footsteps sound from the tunnel, and I hide in the dark corner of the room until Devlan comes into view. He stops mid-stride and looks around. I lurch from my hiding spot and jump on his back. “—should always check your perimeter when you enter a room,” I scold.

His hands latch onto my arms and he attempts to throw me off his back, but I lock my legs around his waist. He backs me into a wall, and the air whooshes out of my lungs. My hold on him loosens, and he pries my arms from around him.

“Had enough?” he says, keeping me pinned to the wall. “I’m going to drop you now.”

“All right.” My pride is wounded, as well as my back. I fall to the ground as he releases me. Rubbing my lower back, I glare as he straightens his tunic. “I nearly had you that time.”

He looks up from his rumpled shirt and his lips curl into a half-grin. “I knew you were there. And I’ve known where you were hiding the last two times you’ve tried something like that.” He steps closer. “Just because I don’t turn my head, doesn’t mean I’m not surveying the room.”

I roll my eyes. “You’re impossible.” Stepping toward the hidden weapons, I go to remove the dark canvas, but Devlan grabs my hand and pulls me to a stop.

“No swords,” he says. “You won’t be able to sneak one in. I don’t like the idea of you trying to sneak in your dagger either, but you’ll need something.”

“I won’t go without my father’s dagger,” I say evenly.

He nods once. “I know.” He makes a “bring it on” gesture with his hands. “No holding back tonight. Don’t worry about injuring me. Give me all you’ve got.”

“You know just what to say to a girl, Devlan.” I roll my shoulders as his brow furrows and lips part, but I come at him before he can retort.

Crashing into his chest, I knock him off-balance, but only for a moment. Just long enough to swipe at his legs. He staggers, but catches himself before he drops to the ground. He throws a punch and I duck. Then I bound up and send my knee into his kidney.

He grunts, and I follow up with a half-twist and an elbow to the same spot. He hits the wall. “You really aren’t holding back.”

“Not tonight.” I advance on him with another blow to the stomach.

I picture Sebastian’s face as he forced me against the lattice, and anger ignites my blood. I hear the lie on Sebastian’s lips, and send my knee into Devlan’s side. He doubles over, but quickly straightens and grabs me around the waist, hauling me into the air. I latch my legs around his midsection and squeeze. He grunts and flattens my back to the wall.

Perfect.

Devlan cranes an eyebrow. “I don’t think that was a good move.” His fingers press into my sides, his thumbs rest on my ribs.

His eyes travel over my body, and I smile when they find the strategically laced top of my dress. I arch my back, and his mouth falls considerably open as I slide my hand up my leg and grasp my dagger. I pull it from its sheath and press it to his throat.

His eyes widen, and I release the breath I’d been holding. “Wasn’t there some lesson on secret weapons?” I raise my eyebrows.

His lips stretch into that beautiful smile I so rarely see. “As I said—” his eyes trace the curves of my body before meeting mine again “—a weapon no man can resist.” I hold his unwavering gaze as he backs away from the wall and gently lowers my feet to the ground.

My cheeks warm. I didn’t think Devlan would fall prey to that tactic, but I gloat regardless. I’ve bested him. My chest rises with pride.

He makes another “come at me” motion. “We have no time to waste, princess.” He cocks his head. “I promise I won’t fall for that again.” He lunges at me.

Dagger still in hand, I don’t think; I react, swiping the air before me. He pulls back a fraction too late and my blade slices his chest.

“Devlan—” I reach out to him. “It was instinct. I didn’t mean—”

“You missed.” He looks down and stretches out the cut fabric of his uniform vest and tunic. “At least, I think.” He pulls the tunic and vest over his head, then examines his chest. A thin cut beads red along the left side of his rib cage. “All right, maybe you got me a little.”

I huff out a long breath, relieved. “Don’t tell me you’re truly hurt. A scratch?”

“No, not hurt.” He swipes the slash of red away from his chest before looking up at me. “I’m just wondering how to explain my shredded uniform.” He holds up his tunic.

I bite the inside of my cheek. I didn’t give him a chance to change out of his uniform before I pounced on him. “It’s not shredded,” I argue, though it will be difficult to explain why it’s cut. His lips stretch into a smile, alleviating my worry, and a smile tugs at my lips. “Don’t you have another?”

“I didn’t bring a change of clothes with me this time.” He eyes me, then nods to himself, as if remembering something. He turns and heads toward the canvas. “But I did leave an extra uniform here last time.” His back catches the torchlight, and I see the long scar more clearly here than at the meadow.

He bends over and comes up with a black tunic. His back muscles work against his skin as he turns it right side in. My eyes continue to trace the scar. I can’t help wondering how he got it, if it was a training injury. But it looks too calculated, purposely done, and with a weapon that wouldn’t be used in a combat exercise.

Before I can stop myself, I open my mouth and ask, “How did that happen?”

His back stiffens, and his movements halt. As he lifts his arms in a half-shrug, his shoulders flex, tense. “I was accused of stealing a Court horse.”

My feet involuntarily bring me closer to him, slowly. “Who accused you?” I ask, because I know Devlan is not guilty.

“Sebastian.”

My stomach sinks as understanding dawns. It was Sebastian’s way of severing their relationship. “Sebastian knew the punishment.” I take another measured step toward him. It’s not a question.

“Yes.” His tone is even. “But I’m not sure he knew that he’d be the one to administer it.”

I stop when I’m a breath away from him. My chest tightens as I imagine Sebastian holding the weapon in his hand, inflicting the punishment on Devlan. At the command of his father, I’m sure. Regardless, he carried it out. He chose to end their friendship to become stronger in his father’s eyes, and he cut Devlan deeply—physically and emotionally.

I raise my hand toward his back, and tentatively press my fingertips to the top of the scar. A muscle in his back jumps. Moving downward, I slowly trace my fingers along the smooth, silky skin. His body relaxes against my touch, and he turns to face me as my hand just reaches his ribs. I keep my hand firm against his chest.

My eyes linger on my hand, on his chest as it rises and falls. Lifting my gaze, I meet his eyes. His pale blue irises gleam in the torchlight. My heart races, matching the pounding of his under my palm. His hand covers mine, pressing it firmly over his heart. His eyes flick over my face and settle on my lips. I swallow hard.

A breath passes my trembling lips, and my only desire is to touch them to his. His intense gaze tells me he wants the same. He once said that a kiss was my choice—that I could bestow that gift to the one of my choosing. Only, I can’t remember his exact words as his eyes penetrate mine, overwhelming my thoughts with need for him.

What were his words?

His gaze drops, and his eyes reflect the torchlight, smoldering, as if they’re ablaze from within. He pulls my hand away and raises it between us.

My wrist is blue and black—small bruises having bloomed where Sebastian’s fingers gripped. With his other hand, Devlan takes the arm at my side and examines the bruising along my bicep. I catch my bottom lip between my teeth. Words fail to form on my lips as his breathing deepens, and the embers in his eyes ignite, scorching me with a fierce glare.

“What did he do?” he growls.

I shakily jerk my head, trying to shake it. “No, Devlan. Nothing happened—”

He sidesteps me and marches toward the tunnel entrance. Panic bursts in my chest like a million pinpricks needling all at once, and I sprint after him. “Devlan. Stop.”

“I’ll kill him.”

I latch onto his arm, digging my feet into the ground. They slide against the loose rubble on the stone, and I anchor my arm against the corner of the entryway. “Devlan, listen to me,” I plead. “This will end everything you’ve worked for.” He barrels on, dragging me with him. He can’t confront Sebastian. We’ll lose all chance of saving our families. “Dammit. Stop!”

As I’m losing my grip on his arm, his words from the corridor that night come to me.

“I choose you.”

His head snaps around, eyes blazing. His jaw works as he looks down at me, his form as still as if he’s in shock.

“Remember?” I ask him, my voice trembling. “Nothing he’s done or will ever do can affect me because…I choose you.”

Turning to face me fully, in one swift motion, Devlan captures my face between his palms and crushes his lips to mine.

I stumble back from the impact, but then press against him with equal determination and latch my arms around his neck, grasping his hair as his lips forcefully caress mine. He presses his fingers into my lower back, gripping me to him. Bending his knees, he grasps my thighs and lifts me into his arms. I wrap my legs around his firm waist.

He breaks the kiss, and I gasp for air as his lips move to my neck. He walks us into the chamber, and then lowers me onto the canvas, hovering just above me. His eyes slowly roam over my body, and his hair falls forward into his eyes. I brush it back, how I’ve wanted to do so many times, and he grasps my wrist. He kisses the tender spot on the underside of it, his lips soft and purposeful against my skin.

I loosen the lacing of my dress as his hand caresses my chest along my rib cage, drawing my dress below my shoulders. I bring him to me, threading my fingers into the soft hair above his neck. His lips meet mine, parting them, as his tongue just traces the inside of my mouth.

Heat flares where his body bears down on mine, between my parted legs, and I raise my hips and press against him. He groans against my lips, and my skin prickles at the desperate sound. His hand slips underneath my dress and travels up my thigh until it reaches my leather sheath. He undoes the clasp, and it falls to the floor before he continues roaming farther up. My breaths come in gasps at the feel of his rough skin on mine.

Kissing along my jaw, he works his way higher, and his lips brush my ear. His voice comes low and husky. “I chose you the first moment I saw you.”

The torchlight casts the room into a fevered glow as my eyes meet his. Then the room goes dark as my eyes shut, and I lose myself in his embrace.

TWENTY-EIGHT

As I wake, Devlan wraps his arm around my stomach, pulling my back to his chest. His lips brush the back of my neck, and he tenderly kisses just below my hairline. “Morning.”

My eyes snap open in alarm, and I roll over in his arms to meet his eyes. “Morning?”

His lips twitch into a smile. “Very early morning.” Then his lips touch mine, gently caressing my mouth with a passionate kiss. My chest rises, pressing against his as I inhale deeply, breathing him in. His hand glides along my hip before he pulls away. “I need to get you back.”

I wrap my leg around his hip, halting him and loving the feel of his skin against mine. “Nay.”

He presses his forehead to mine and exhales heavily. His eyes close. “Whatever you wish, I won’t be able to deny you.” His hand slides up the bare skin of my thigh. I shiver. “But I need to take you back now, before I can never let you go again.”

I tense at the thought of not being in his arms, but I know what I have to do. Our mission comes first. My father—everyone is depending on us. I nod against his head. “I’ll get dressed.” I sit up and get to my feet, then glance around, searching for my dress.

Devlan puts his hands behind his head and stares up at me. His lips curve into a bright smile, dimples along his cheeks. “But please, do take your time.”

I kick his leg, but smile. “Help me find my most likely mutilated dress, seeing as you couldn’t figure out how to get me out of it.”

He shrugs against the ground, his arms flex. “You said hurry.” He grunts as he sits up and tosses my dress from behind him. “I always do as my princess commands.”

“Devlan,” I warn. “You especially cannot call me that now.”

“Right.” His features mold into a serious expression, but I can still see the trace of a smile lingering. He stands and gathers his clothes.

My lips stretch into an aching smile. I try to hide my face from his as I dress and strap my sheath to my thigh. My mind continually replays the moments with him—his lips on mine, his hands on my body—and heat rushes through me.

All I want is to climb back onto the canvas with him and forget everything that plagues me, but I know I can’t. I have a mission to complete. At the very least, we were together once before we risk our lives. Friday, I could die. We all could. Only, I wish I’d made my feelings for him clear sooner, had admitted them to myself before now.

“Maybe we should wait in the stable for first light,” he says. “You could pass it off as an early ride.”

I look over my rumpled dress. “Yes. I always wear the same gown two days in a row. And torn, at that.” I hold out the split hem.

His brow furrows. “Let’s go, then.”

As I step in front of him, he takes my hand and runs his fingers over the purple skin along my wrist. I look into his pale eyes. “I handled it,” I say. “And I will deal with it today. We have to keep on as if nothing has changed.” I level a look at him. “This is the mission.”

He nods once, his lips a hard line. “He just better pray I calm down before the match on Friday.” He kisses the inside of my wrist, letting his threat linger in the air as we disappear into the tunnel.

The early-morning chill seeps in through the stone walls, and Devlan slides his hand into mine as we make our way up the steps toward the top level of the castle.

Before we reach the head of the tunnel, I turn and face him. “I should go to my chamber alone.”

He shakes his head. “I’m not letting you out of my—”

I press my finger to his mouth. “I’m going on my own. I can’t chance that Sebastian, or one of the other courtiers, will come stumbling along from the party and see us together.”

His face winces into a pained expression. “Let me contact Xander first.”

“Devlan. I promise I’ll be fine. I’ve roamed the castle by myself before.”

His eyebrows pull together. “Contact me when you get to your room.”

I nod and turn to go, but he tugs my skirt, pulling me back. He cups the back of my neck and pulls me to him, pressing his lips to mine. I kiss him with purpose, and his lips achingly work against mine. As I break the kiss, I refuse to meet his eyes. I turn and open the door, then slip into the hallway. I don’t want the worried look I know he now wears to linger with me all day until I see him again.

When I reach the open hall, I look at the tournament field. It’s dark, and torches burn low, displaying the leftover party debris. The servants will soon be up to clear it away before the morning comes.

Dashing down the corridor to my room, I come to a complete halt when I see Xander outside my door. His head jerks my way, and he advances on me quickly.

“Princess, the prince was looking for you.” Worry narrows his eyes. “I told him that you weren’t feeling well, and had requested to be left alone. I offered to keep guard over you for the rest of the night.”

I relax my stiff shoulders. “Thank you, Xander.” His face is too drawn for that to be all, though. “What else?”

“I fear this is not the only night you’ll be watched.” He lowers his voice. “The prince is very suspicious. Starting tomorrow, two guards will be stationed with you at all times. And we’re to swap shifts outside your chamber during the night.”

“Maybe it was a request after he had too much to drink,” I say. “I’ll speak with him.”

“He was sober when I last saw him.”

My brow creases. “I’ll still talk with him.” He nods, and I go into my room.

Sebastian has gone too far. This is dangerous. My mission depends heavily on his trust in me. I squeeze my eyes shut. Somehow, I must get that trust back. My stomach sinks, knowing just how difficult that will be after the way we parted last.

* * *

The stadium is full of spectators. I wait for Sebastian to join me in the risers. He didn’t act suspicious at breakfast, but he also didn’t acknowledge his actions of the night before.

I saw him glance at my lips more than once, or maybe it was simply paranoia making me feel the weight of his stare. I had to grip my dress to stop myself from covering the guilty offenders. I’m his betrothed, but my heart doesn’t belong to him. I told him from the start that my feelings for him would never be romantic. I can’t help that his pride will not accept this. It’s not guilt I feel for breaking any vow to him, but rather worry that I may have botched the mission, that I’ve failed to protect him.

Before I entered the tournament area, I sent word to Devlan through Xander. Using our communicators feels unwise. We’re so close; there’s no room for error. Xander made the case for me that, now I’m being watching more closely, I won’t be able to meet him tonight, or the following two nights we have left before the ceremony. It tore at my heart to do so, but it’s just too dangerous. I know Devlan will understand once he hears the circumstances. It was he that night in the meadow, as we watched Fallon and Xander embrace, who conveyed his feelings on love and duty.

Duty comes first. Love is a distraction, and one that could endanger all involved. I trust that he’ll remember his words now.

The knights gather on horseback, meeting in the center of the field before the announcer introduces the next event. Sebastian sits down next to me, and my heart nearly leaps from my chest at his sudden arrival.

“I didn’t see you coming up the stands.” I smile and nod toward the field. “This is going to be exciting.” I can’t believe that I’m the one expected to make amends, but I have no choice. I at least have to restore our friendship, as I must convince him to take me to King Hart before our ceremony. I swallow my pride.

He takes my hand in his and his fingers squeeze mine painfully. I try to jerk out of his grip, but he pulls me closer to his side. “You will not get back into my good graces with sweet words, Zara.”

Attempting to hide a scene from the spectators around us, I lean into him and whisper, “What then, my lord, will forgive my error?” I grind out the words, and then dig my nail into the top of his hand.

He releases his hold on me with a sharp laugh. “Certainly not words.” He looks at me, and his golden eyes darken as his face hardens. “But, I suppose it will make for a splendid wedding night to have you prove your apology then.”

My mouth falls open, but I hold my tongue from spilling the insults ready on it. It’s as if he’s forgotten his actions of last night completely, believing his own makings of the events. I eye him curiously, trying to see a spark of recognition behind the angry gaze.

It’s not there. Only the cold and callous air of a king.

Turning to face the tournament field, I lay my hand in my lap and straighten my back. After a moment, when he realizes he won’t get a rise out of me, he does the same.

I loathe myself, wishing I could come clean and simply tell him everything, and that he’d know the right thing to do about King Hart. All this manipulation is eating my soul. I saw the hate in his eyes—the anger—last night in the garden, and I see it now. He’s walking a fine line between becoming the king his father raised him to be, and the leader I know he can be.

I’ve seen the compassion in his eyes before. Like the first day he took me to the meadow, and when he helped the pregnant woman. The light is there. I can almost reach out and feel the tension surrounding him—his inner battle.

I wish my head and my heart would quit combating each other. I know my mission. I know what I’ve vowed to the Rebels and to myself. But there is a heaviness weighing on my heart, telling me I’m missing something. If I falter now, all could be lost.

The war against Outside. The Taken. My father.

Everything.

I know that Devlan would tell me to hold strong, that this is the sure course. Only, I’ve seen the question in Devlan’s eyes, each of the times he’s trained me, and when he offered to take my place to take on Hart. Did he doubt me so then? Does he still have doubt?

I feel Devlan’s scar beneath my fingers, and envision the sneer on Sebastian’s face as he inflicted it, as he gave in to Hart’s commands.

What’s right? What am I supposed to do?

I sink into my chair, feeling as if my mind is weighing me down. I imagine Devlan’s arms wrapped around me, sheltering me from my own thoughts. Pressing my palm over the communicator in my bodice, I try to feel the strength that Devlan claims he sees in me.

TWENTY-NINE

“We’re cutting it close.” Xander adjusts his sword to his hip.

The morning sun shines through the canopy of tree branches, the meadow covered in a misty fog. I clasp my jeweled sash behind my back as Xander packs our training supplies. Hiking the hem of my white gown above the dew and sap-covered pine straw, I hustle toward the wall opening. Nothing can catch Sebastian’s notice.

Once we’re on the other side of the brook, I look over at Xander. “You truly feel I’m ready?”

Xander grasps Sterlyn’s reins and hands them to me. “Yes, Zara. You’re ready.” The confidence in his voice doesn’t match the waver I glimpse in his deep brown eyes.

I nod, hoping that Xander’s hesitation is an inner reflection, and not solely doubt in me. We’re all preoccupied with our own parts of this mission. I mount my horse while Xander gets atop his. “You’ve been distracted during training, Xander. What’s been on your mind?”

He looks at the ground before kicking his heels. “Fallon and I have been having a disagreement.” I trot Sterlyn beside his gray horse as he continues. “I’ve never gone against any of her orders…until now.”

I open my mouth to respond, but I’m unsure how. Xander’s in a difficult position if he disagrees with an order from the Rebel leader. I know he respects her as his leader, but he’s also in love with her, which might cloud his judgment. Going against a command on his part would take great strength, as I’ve seen them together. I know he’d do anything for her, and anything she’d ask of him.

I’m curious if the order has anything to do with me, and I can’t help but ask, “Does it have to do with the mission?”

Even over the sound of the forest floor crunching beneath our horses’ hooves, I hear his deep sigh. “Partly. It’s more personal, though.” He glances at me. “And I’d rather keep certain things undisclosed. Not to you, Zara,” he quickly adds. “But to all.”

I look ahead to the plain coming into view. “We’re allowed our secrets, Xander. Sometimes, they’re what keep us who we are.”

Saying this, I wonder if I truly believe it. I’ve been keeping my own secrets. Everyone believes it’s the right thing to do, but I still tussle with the choice I’ve made to keep Sebastian in the dark.

“Although,” I add. “The truth can be quite liberating. I guess you have to question who it would affect and how.”

The lines of his forehead deepen, the corners of his eyes frown, and he pulls his horse to a stop. “But it’s none of my business.” I shake my head. “I’ve only known you and Fallon a short while, and I don’t know the circumstances. But I trust you both.”

Xander’s eyes stare out over the plain, a far-off expression on his face. “Fallon is a true leader.”

“As are you, Xander.” I turn Sterlyn to face him. “You’re second in command, and I would trust an order from you as much as from Fallon.”

His eyes meet mine, and a slow smile crawls up his face. “You would? The stubborn, reluctant princess?”

“Hey!” I can’t help but laugh.

He holds up his hands. “Devlan’s words.” His smile falls a bit, and he says, “But thank you, Zara. You truly are ready, and if all this had never happened, I’d have willingly followed you as my queen.”

His admission stuns me as much as the somberness in his tone. He’s carrying a heavy burden, one I hope he finds an answer to in the end. For both him and Fallon.

I raise my brows and lighten my voice. “Well, as it is, Sir Xander,” I bow my head regally, “I’m lucky to have a noble leader to follow.”

He laughs, and his heavy chuckle bounces off the woods. “I hope that you don’t regret those words, m’lady.”

Before I can comment, he gives me a full Xander smile, then kicks the sides of his horse and gallops off. I puzzle over his words only a moment before following him.

Xander and I quickly stable our horses when we reach the court grounds, then rush toward the castle to meet Sebastian at the tournament.

My conversation with Xander still sits heavily on the front of my mind, but my nerves are making it difficult to think of anything other than tonight. This is it. The last day of the tournament and the ceremonial marriage of Prince Sebastian to his chosen princess. Everything depends on today. And me.

Devlan has spent the past two days stationed in the knights’ quarters on the opposite wing of the castle, training for the last match of the tournament. He’s being watched closely by the Force, and we couldn’t take the chance we’d be caught together and have it reported back to Sebastian. Xander took over my training, but we’ve only had an hour each day during my morning rides. Anything more is too risky.

Xander continually tells me of Devlan’s confidence in my skills, and it’s what I desire to hear. Only, I need to hear Devlan’s endorsement with my own ears, look into his eyes as he says it, but I know that’s asking too much. I trust he’d stop the mission if he were unsure.

Every moment that I’ve not been with Madity making preparations, I’ve been with Sebastian. Late-night suppers. Dancing beneath the stars at the tourney celebrations. Long walks around the lake, where I tried to coax him into the pleasant conversation we once shared. And all the while, my soul was burdened with guilt.

Guilt that I have failed him. Guilt that I have failed my father.

And Devlan.

Although my attempts to garner Sebastian’s trust have proven somewhat beneficial, as he’s removed my second guard, I’m not sure it’s enough. Every time he attempted to kiss me, my heart panged, and I pulled away. He believes I have strong convictions about marriage, and Devlan’s absence has helped, but I still see the doubt in his eyes.

All around me is doubt. It festers in the air, and I struggle to breathe through the suffocation of it.

After the last event—the battle between Sebastian and Devlan—I must convince Sebastian to take me to King Hart. I’ll have mere hours before the ceremony starts, and my mind struggles with what I must do.

I envision Devlan’s confident features, his sturdy voice as he tells me to see this through. However, I also feel the doubt that’s been with me from the beginning. I believe Sebastian can come out of this a good leader, a good person. But his recent bouts of anger and the cool, calculated look he gets lately splinter my mind with more poisonous thorns of doubt. What if losing his father sends him in the opposite direction?

Telling Sebastian the truth would open his eyes, and there might not be a need to continue this lie. There might be another way to stop Hart altogether. Or it could backfire, and I could lose Sebastian completely to the darkness seething in him. There are too many scenarios to factor in.

Right now, I can’t consider them. I have to continue with the Rebel’s plan. It’s been in effect long before I was involved, so it’s possible I’m only getting “cold feet.” Just not in the traditional wedding style.

As we reach the tournament, the stands are already full. All of Karm has come to watch their prince face off with last season’s defending champion. My head swims as I search the knights gathered on the sidelines.

Sebastian requested that I meet him near the tent before the match starts, and I’m late. Dammit. I can’t afford to slip up now.

“There.” Xander points to Sebastian suiting up in his armor next to the tent flaps.

I breathe a sigh of relief and head toward him.

“Zara,” Sebastian says. “I was worried you’d gotten lost.” He finishes adjusting his armor, and then kisses my hand. “I didn’t want to go in without my good-luck charm’s well wishes.”

Smiling, I allow him to hold my hand, and I even step into his embrace. “I had a difficult time spotting you amongst the other knights.” I mentally slap myself. “Until I spied your strong physique, that is.”

His eyes bloom with pride. Sebastian has always responded well to compliments. “As stimulated as I am by this battle, it doesn’t compare to the eagerness I feel for tonight.” His eyes linger on my face, and my stomach quivers at his implied innuendo. “When I can announce to all that you’re my wife, my queen, and my love.”

I give him a relieved smile, but his eyes move past me, to something over my shoulder. I start to turn my head to follow his gaze, but he quickly pulls me close, and I catch my breath. His fingers weave their way into my hair, and he presses his lips to mine. I’m shocked only a moment before I push against his chest, try to back him away. His lips are hard and forceful, claiming every inch of me for himself.

The announcer on the field introduces the tourney and Sebastian pulls away. “To be continued soon,” he says, then turns and struts toward his audience.

My stomach twists, and I swipe the back of my hand across my mouth. As I turn, I see what Sebastian glimpsed over my shoulder, and my heart slams against my rib cage.

Devlan stands a few feet away, sword in hand, his face drawn in anger. I can see the rise and fall of his chest, the fury simmering as he stares after Sebastian.

I step toward him, but Xander catches my arm. “Not now, princess.”

Devlan’s name is announced from the platform. His eyes latch onto me as he closes the gap between us, making his way to the field.

“Devlan.” I breathe his name before he passes, but he only returns his gaze to the stage.

Xander ushers me toward the stands. My legs are numb as I climb the bleachers. When we’re seated in the box, I stare at the platform below as they prepare for the match. My breathing is labored, and I grip the locket around my neck, wanting to yank it off.

Maybe Sebastian is convinced I don’t have affections for another, but he still believes that Devlan has feelings for me. He purposely staked his claim on me to infuriate Devlan before their match. Anger boils in my chest.

Xander leans into me. “Zara,” he whispers. “Devlan doesn’t fault you. He’s not angry with you, as he knows this is part of the mission. He’s angered by the situation.”

I nod slowly, my neck stiff with tension. “And if it were Fallon?” I turn my head to meet his eyes.

He groans and looks to the platform. “Sebastian would be a dead man.”

My palms slick with sweat, and I run them along my dress as Sebastian and Devlan meet in the center. The announcer waves a white flag and their swords clang together. The sound sends a tremor down my spine, and I dig my fingers into my thighs.

I watched Sebastian take on many men during the melee, but Devlan too has faced the same number and come out the victor. I don’t know how evenly matched they are, or who holds the most spite for the other. All I know is both have scores to settle.

Sebastian believes Devlan is after his betrothed, maybe even assumes it’s revenge for what he did to Devlan years back. And Devlan…what? Does he truly feel Sebastian is a threat? No. He can’t possibly. Although, he does carry the deep scar of a painful wound, and Sebastian’s bruises on my wrists and arms may have reopened it.

I grip my legs tighter as Sebastian swipes the air before him. Devlan barely lunges out of the way before Sebastian’s sword comes at him again. My breath halts. I remind myself this is a sport. A tourney. No one will be harmed.

Sebastian’s blade nicks Devlan’s wrist and red drips to the platform. A cry lodges in my throat as I bite it back. I now recall Devlan explaining that the last battles are fought with real swords. Dammit. I should’ve spoken with Devlan before he went in. I want to rush down there and plant myself between them—stop the tourney. All I can do is watch, hold my breath, and wait.

Devlan slashes his sword across Sebastian’s armored chest. The prince stumbles back. Devlan advances on him, unrelenting as he continues to attack armor. No points for the hits, but he doesn’t go for the points. He wants Sebastian weary and battered. As Devlan draws his sword above his head for another strike, Sebastian dives into him, grabbing him around the waist and taking him to the ground.

I look to the sideline, my breath stuck in my throat, waiting for someone to call Sebastian on his technicality. No one does, though, and it seems that the prince is allowed certain liberties. Of course.

Sebastian rises up and lifts his sword to deliver the killing blow.

I spring from my seat but Xander quickly pulls me back down. “Princess—” he warns. I barely hear him. Everything around me is muted as I await the final strike.

Devlan jams the hilt of his sword into Sebastian’s ribs, and the prince doubles over. Next he delivers a hard punch to Sebastian’s face. The crowd roars. Some boo; others cheer. They’re evenly divided for which man they root for.

As Devlan gets to his feet, Sebastian follows, relentlessly meeting his foe’s advancing swings. Sebastian stumbles as Devlan sends a blow to his leg, and I see his opening. Devlan has a clear shot to Sebastian’s heart.

He doesn’t take it.

I frown, studying the sloppy swing he chooses to deliver to Sebastian’s shoulder instead. While Sebastian regroups, Devlan looks to the crowd. To me.

He meets Sebastian’s sword with his own and falls back, allowing Sebastian to have the upper hand. It’s clear what he’s doing, at least to me, and certainly to Xander. He’s throwing the fight.

My chest constricts. I know how difficult this has to be for Devlan. Here, now…in front of everyone, he can lay the prince down. But he’s choosing the mission. My heart splits with pride and remorse, two halves battling. Devlan’s focused on why we’re here, and he’s doing it as much for me as for our cause.

Securing the win for Sebastian will have the prince in high spirits; I’ll have a better chance of convincing him to take me to King Hart.

Sebastian knocks Devlan to the platform and thrusts his sword down, spiking the point against the armor guarding Devlan’s heart. The regulator calls the winner. It’s Sebastian.

My head drops into my hands and I take in a deep breath before I rise and cheer for my betrothed. I force a smile on my face and join the clapping of the crowd.

“Let’s go, princess,” Xander says. “You need to congratulate the victor.”

I stand and move to the end of the row. Xander follows behind, guiding me down the risers as my eyes stay steady on the platform.

Devlan and Sebastian shake hands. Even from this distance, I see the strain on Devlan’s face. He fought a battle within himself as much as he dueled with Sebastian. And he won.

But this is just the start of our battles today.

THIRTY

The gate opens, and a line of carriages brings citizens toward the castle.

Tea lights strung from the branches sway, and the castle grounds are lit with blazing torches. Court is abuzz with excitement over tonight’s ceremony.

Running my fingers over my father’s initials on the hilt beneath my slip, I feel sentimental. I spent many days on my balcony pondering my world, my choices. It’s as if I’m standing where it all began. And now, soon, it will end. I say a silent prayer to the wind, hoping there is someone in the clouds who hears my plea. That my father and mother hear the love I have for them. Even if my father’s mind is gone, I pray that he can feel it.

“My lady?” Madity’s soft voice comes from behind.

I turn and face her, clearing the tears from my eyes. “I’m ready.”

Her steps are slow and determined. She stops right before me, her eyes serious, her face showing more strain than I’ve ever seen before. “When I was younger,” she says. “I had hard choices to make myself.” She pulls a necklace from beneath her bodice. Dangling in the center of the silver chain is a winged crest.

A Rebel crest.

My heart shudders in my chest, and my lips part.

She ignores my confused expression and continues. “You once asked me if I have any children.” She smiles thoughtfully, sad seams lining her mouth. “You never asked if I had any. I know the laws, and I keep to myself. But my husband had beliefs, and it cost us everything.”

I look around my room, worried about the listening devices, but she hasn’t said anything too incriminating, and she palms the crest. She never ceases to surprise me with her cunning.

She pulls the necklace off over her head, then drapes it over mine, tucking the crest under my slip.

Tears brim the corners of my eyes, and my lips tremble. “I don’t know the right thing to do,” I admit.

She places a tender kiss on my forehead, and then stares into my eyes. “You have come too far in discovering who Zara is. No one can dictate your life. It’s yours alone. No matter what vows you take, what promises you offer, in the end, it is only you.” Her eyes hold mine. “I trust you know the right course of action. You need only be brave enough to do what your heart tells you.”

My chest aches. I wrap my arms around her neck, pulling her close. “Thank you, Madity.”

She hugs me tightly, then backs away. “Time to put on your gown, princess.” She walks to my bed and lifts it. “His Highness had it made just for you.”

I walk to the gown and snatch it up, gripping the white fabric. Turning toward Madity, I give her a knowing smirk. “Then why doesn’t he wear it?”

She laughs.

* * *

Hearing Devlan’s voice over the communicator firmed my convictions. I shouldn’t have contacted him with our plan unfolding this close, but I needed to hear his voice. I need to see him, but first I have to do what I know is right.

Madity covered for me, sending Xander to fetch some lace. She made a stink about the servant girl bringing the wrong kind. As soon as he left the hallway, I dashed down the corridor, the train of my wedding dress trailing behind me.

I told Devlan to stall, and to keep stalling until he heard back from me. No one is to commence any part of the mission until they hear from me.

I’m taking command of this mission.

There are yet two hours before the ceremony, and I’ve wasted enough time thinking. It’s now time for action.

Madity lost her family, lost her child and her husband to the Virus Hart created to control his sordid world. The real world may be wretched enough, but nothing compares to his sick schemes that control us all. I won’t allow Sebastian to fall prey to his father’s ways. The madness, the schemes, the lying—they all have to stop.

I round the corner to Sebastian’s chamber. As I reach his door, I pound on the hard wood.

The door swings open, and Sebastian’s curious eyes meet mine. “Zara, what are you doing here?” He shakes his head. “No mind. I’m actually happy you’ve come. I was just on my way to you. I have a surprise. And we must hurry before the ceremony.”

“Sebastian.” I place my hand on his chest, halting his movements. “We need to speak. Now.”

He kisses my cheek. “After. We’ll still have time.” He takes my hand in his and leads me out of his room. “But this can’t wait.”

Shit. I can’t speak with him in the corridor. I need us alone, away from the Eyes. I had assumed his chamber would be free of them. Maybe I can convince him to go to the secret room under the castle.

“Sebastian, please,” I plead. “Let me take you somewhere we can talk in private.”

“Soon.” He continues our brisk pace down the hallway. “Trust me.”

I stare at him sidelong, trying with all my heart to do just that. Trust that what I’m about to do is right and that Devlan will forgive me. I clamp my eyes shut and allow Sebastian to lead as I envision my father’s pale face, and I pray for his forgiveness.

My father’s smile—the smile he wore before he became Taken—breaks through the pain, chips away at my hatred for King Hart. His arms wrapped around me, cradling me to him when I was a girl. He read me stories. He tucked me in, whispering about freedom.

A smile takes over my face.

If I kill King Hart, I will be no freer than I am under his rule. I’ll be no freer than if I was sent to that damned compound and fed to the cannibals. I would become a slave to my anger, to hate. My vengeance on the man who took my father would not be sated by his death. It would destroy me in the end.

No. Madity is right. Even with all her skittish misgivings, she has always been wise, and she’s always seen what I could not while blinded by my hatred. Devlan didn’t try to postpone the mission because he feared I wasn’t ready, nor did he try to take my place because he felt I would fail.

He knew what I’m only just now seeing, that killing Hart would sever something inside me. Just as Hart tried to make Sebastian sever his compassion, I’d destroy the part of me that forgives and trusts and believes in people, the part of me that makes me strong.

That’s the strength Sebastian saw in me. The silent strength he spoke of at the meadow.

He asked me if I thought that part of us weakens us. I understand now that it doesn’t.

I can do what’s right for Sebastian. For Devlan. For all of Karm, and for myself. Make a choice. Go against Hart, the Force, the Rebels—

I can choose.

I open my eyes with renewed determination. “Sebastian,” I say tersely, trying to gain his attention. I glance around, noticing that he’s taken me to the other side of the castle. And not just the wing, but the end of the wing. There’s nowhere to go.

A stained glass window shows the outside, darkening as the sun dips lower. I’m running out of time.

Sebastian reaches out and places his palm to the floorto-ceiling window. It ripples, and the waves of glass pull apart like a curtain—no, a screen. A metal door slides open, revealing a large lift.

He pulls me inside, then hits a blue button on the side of the metal casing. The door slides shut with a heavy, metallic clang. I jerk. “Where are you taking me?”

His eyes meet mine, shining gold in the bright light. “To meet the king.”

THIRTY-ONE

My heart slams to my feet as the lift shoots up. Sharp spears of panic stab my chest, and I yank my hand from Sebastian’s. “No, Sebastian. I can’t.”

A smile crooks his lips. “It’s all right, Zara. There’s nothing to fear. I know how you feel about marriage. How important it is to you.” He sighs. “I want you to know that you’re part of a family now. That my father’s blessing will—”

I smash my hands against the buttons—all of them—and the lift bangs to a stop. The doors stay closed, and we start to descend.

I relax against the cold wall and close my eyes.

“Zara?” Sebastian roars. My eyes snap open. “What are you doing? You’re acting mad.”

“I am, Sebastian.” I palm his cheeks, pull his face level to mine so our eyes meet. “And for once, you must trust me.”

His eyes search my face, and he presses his lips together. When the doors open, I tug him into the hallway and sweep the perimeter. “Where can we talk that isn’t monitored?” I whisper.

He groans. “Here.” He opens a door to our left.

Hesitantly, I follow him into the chamber. He opens a glass case and inserts a key into a keyhole along the wall. After he enters a code into the dial pad, he faces me. “The Eyes are down. Now what is this about?”

I take his hand and lead him to the bed.

“Zara, you don’t have to prove yourself right now.” His lips quirk into a side grin. “I can wait till tonight.” He pulls me closer and slides his hand into my hair.

I bat it away and glare at him. “Honestly, Sebastian. Is that the only thing your mind thinks of?” Shaking my head, I lower him into a sitting position so that my eyes meet his straight on. “I have much to confess to you.”

His brow furrows and his lips part, but I press on. “I know of your father’s project. All of it. I know about Outside, and the Taken. About the Virus…and about the Rebels.”

I pause. Let my words sink in, and wait for a flash of realization in his eyes. I have to know for sure that he’s unaware. If he’s not—if he knows everything and I’ve just blown my cover—then I will end him here and now and take his severed hand back to the lift if I must. I’m prepared to do what it takes. I’m risking it all on the chance that he’s ignorant, and that he will see my reasoning.

Eyes wide, his features harden into rigid lines. “What the hell are you talking about?”

I clear my throat. My nerves are making it feel closed, like a vise is tightening around my neck. It’s hard to breathe. “I know that you know who the Rebels are.” I narrow my eyes.

“Yes, I do.” He levels a strained look at me. “But how do you?”

“Because…I am one.”

He springs up, and I flinch as his hand pulls back. I cover my face, ready to block, but the blow never comes. I peek around my crossed arms. He knocks his crown off as he grabs fistfuls of his hair and begins to pace.

“Shit, Zara!”

I reach out, and then tentatively place my hand on his shoulder. “Please listen to me.” He looks down at me, and his eyes are lost, the anger a fraction less. I go on. “I didn’t start out as one. I was recruited after I was brought here. But it’s not what you think. Your father has lied to you, Sebastian.” I release a heavy breath, then suck in another. “Outside is horrible, yes. But the Virus was designed by your father so he could have slaves to power Karm. They don’t die. They are out there.” I point toward the wall. “And they’re being given as sacrifices to mutated humans in order to keep them from destroying his project.”

I expect him to react in confusion, shame, shock—but not the way he does.

He laughs, a hollow, humorous boom. “Oh, my God. You have gone mad.” He drives his hand through his already disheveled hair, then turns and heads toward the door. “I’ll get the physician. Maybe we can postpone the wedding an hour more until he’s looked—”

“Sebastian.” I step in front of him. “You know what I say is the truth.” I stare into his eyes. “Look around you. How do you think this all works? What has your father already told you? What has he been teaching you?”

Realization lights his eyes with a sudden clarity as he stares into mine. He turns his back to me. “I was to learn some great secret before my crowning on the morrow.” He sits back down on the bed. His jaw tenses, and he grinds out, “But this madness is not it.”

“What I tell you is the truth.” My hands shake at my sides and I ball them into fists. “I’ve seen it with my own eyes. I’ve seen my father out there, his eyes lost to the Virus. And I’ve seen the compound, where the Taken labor, harvesting power so that your father’s realm can thrive.”

He stares at the ground, silent. I kneel before him. “Sebastian,” I plead his name. “You once asked me what it takes to rule.”

His eyes snap to mine.

“I now know the answer to your question.” I take his hands in mine. “It’s yes. Our emotions and feelings for others make us stronger. That’s what’s needed to be a great leader.”

He tilts his head, studying my face before blinking away the memory stirring within him. He straightens his back. “Why you?”

“Everyone thought it was me who had to stop Hart. But it’s not.” I seek his eyes imploringly and assert, “It’s you.”

His eyes blaze liquid gold. “I would never—”

“I believe in you,” I say quickly, desperately. He bites down on his lip, and red beads against his teeth. His shoulders shake. Taking a steadying breath, I keep on, knowing he’s either close to seeing the truth, or I’m dangerously close to having to defend myself. “I believe in the compassion you have inside you—the kindness, the goodness, the love for your people. I believe you can find a new way for Karm, and protect its citizens.”

His eyes glaze over and he shakes his head. “You don’t understand what you ask of me. My father is everything to me. He’s given me everything. I can no more go against him than I can my own nature.”

“I know you. You’ve told me of all the boundless things you want for this realm.” I grip his hands. “See them through. Remove Hart from power. On the morrow, once you’re crowned, order him locked away.” I huff. “Hell, he’s already locked away. But take away his power, his fear over the people, his command. Take down the barrier, end the torment, and everyone will follow you.”

His eyes glisten, and a single tear shimmers at the corner of his lid.

“I will follow you.”

He’s so close. I can see it in his eyes—he’s wavering. Having been raised by Hart, the fear is present in him. I can feel it rolling off him in waves, but I’m close to breaking down the barrier around his heart. I need to tread lightly. But he’s so close…

ER-ER-ER.

ER-ER-ER.

I flinch at the ear-shattering siren, and Sebastian springs up. “What the hell—?” He looks down at me, his eyes carving a fiery trail along my face. “What have you done?”

I shake my head. Panic thunders through my body. “Nothing. I don’t know what’s happening.” And I don’t. I glance around the room, at the blinking lights as they flash on and off above our heads. The room vibrates with the alarm. The sound is deafening, and my head pounds in sync with it.

Sebastian races from the room, and before I can think, I follow after him.

He halts suddenly, and I jerk to a stop once I see what he’s staring at.

Two knights of the Force lie bleeding in the corridor.

Dead.

Sebastian marches to the end of the hallway and there he stops, staring at the open door to the lift. I come up behind him, then, without acknowledging each other, we both step inside. He presses the button to take us to Hart’s secret chamber.

A sharp pang seizes my chest when the doors part. I cover my mouth.

King Hart sits on his throne. One arm draped over the side, a dagger protruding from his chest.

The Rebel crest on the hilt stares back at me.

THIRTY-TWO

I grip the bodice of my wedding dress as I pant sharp, aching breaths. Everything around me happens as if in slow motion, but too quickly at the same time.

Sebastian runs to Hart. He extracts the Rebel dagger. Wires emanate from the open wound, sparking as wisps of smoke coil up from Hart’s chest. Sebastian kneels before his father and cradles his thin, limp body, blood soaking his tunic.

A giant metallic and glass machine beside the throne blares out a loud, steady beep. Sebastian rocks forward and backward, and yet, Hart is still dead—murdered—and not by my hand.

I hear the lift behind me, but I don’t recognize what’s happening until three knights of the Force enter. They run past me toward the other end of the huge, open room. This whole time, my eyes have been trained on Sebastian curling his father to him. As my eyes trail after the knights, I finally look around and gasp.

There are no walls.

I’m standing on top of the castle—in the sky. I glance down at the lake, the court, royal village, the town. I can see all of Karm. Electric-blue grid lines streak the dark sky all around me. Then I look down as fear spikes my blood. There is a floor beneath me. I sink to it, trying to get my bearings.

How long have the Rebels speculated Hart’s secret chamber to be far from the castle? How much time have they wasted searching? All this time it’s been right here. I’ve spent these past weeks with Hart in my very presence, right above me, in his secret chamber in the sky.

I become brave and stand, then walk to the edge of the room. I keep my hands out, fanning the air, and when I reach the edge, my hands hit something solid. A wall. The walls are made of something so clear, so pure it’s as if nothing surrounds us at all.

My mind blanks at the impossibility. My head jerks toward the court grounds. How is it that no one can see this room? Then I think of the birds, lying around the castle, no one able to explain why they simply drop out of the sky. I imagine them smashing into an invisible room.

I take in Hart’s dead body again, registering that part of it is machine. Before I’m able to catalog my own ponderings, a knight approaches Sebastian.

“Your Highness,” the knight says in a low but forceful voice. “Excalibur has been attacked.”

Sebastian’s head whips up, and he stares vacantly at the knight.

The mainframe.

It’s here also. I try to spy the control room as the knight continues. “A disk has been lodged in the computer, and it’s decoding the system.” When Sebastian still looks at him as if he’s speaking a foreign language, the knight points outward. “The barrier is coming down.”

I stare out past our glass encasement, but I don’t see… The air shimmers. Panicked, I look above my head. The sky starts to open up. A splinter of black at first, then the bright blue lines mix with the darkness and begin to melt, peeling down all around me. I spin in slow circles as blackness replaces the once-illuminated sky.

I look to Sebastian, a solid lump fixed in my throat like a stone. It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. I was meant to have time. He was meant to have a grieving period before the barrier was taken down. And the antidote?

Where is it?

Carrying out the mission seems pointless. How can I convince Sebastian to command an army when he’s wracked with grief? His eyes are on his father, empty. The Rebels are unaware of everything.

And Outside is opening up all around us.

I have to get to Devlan.

The barrier is coming down. Soon, the monsters that roam the wasteland will be coming for us. I dash toward the lift. There’s no time to waste.

“Guards!” Sebastian shouts. “Take her.”

I spin toward him, my shock complete. Before I can process anything, two knights come at me, their V-Batons raised. I back into the lift and smack the buttons. One of the knights lodges his wand between the metal doors as they clamp shut. Lifting the hem of my wedding dress, I unsheathe my dagger and then slam the hilt against the shaft of the prod.

The doors shut.

Slumping against the wall, I nearly collapse. Focus. I right myself and straighten my dress. Thinking better, I sheath the dagger before the doors open.

Glancing around, I step into the corridor. Empty. I stoop and grab an arming sword from one of the fallen knights, then strike the control panel of the lift. It sparks, and the lift’s gears grind. The doors open and close, open and close.

I’m not sure how long that will stall them, so I take out my communicator and press the button. “Devlan.” My voice trembles.

Static.

“Devlan—” I nearly shout.

Only crackling. Shaking, I tune to Xander’s frequency and try him. The same static, as if all the knights have disappeared. Regaining my confidence, I start toward the stairs.

I look back once, then take off toward the main hall. Walking swiftly and stealthily—the sword held by my side, pressed into the skirt of my dress—I pray I can reach the front before the knights make it to the bottom level. As I enter the inner ward, I notice there’re no panicked citizens racing around and no knights of the Force. It’s too quiet.

The alarm must have cleared out the castle. I push the large doors open and run to the front grounds. All around me people are staring, their forms stiff and locked in place, all looking in different directions.

My heart bangs against my chest as I spin and take in the sight. The once-blue sky has melted away. The dark, foreign sky of Outside replaces it. Lightning as I’ve never witnessed flashes in mud-colored clouds, making the sky look more like a dirt field, layered with patches of gray and brown clay. A small ball of light peeks through the murky clouds as they travel quickly across it. The sun, I realize. And in the distance, beyond the bright green grass, past the stone wall and the pines reaching upward, black mountains roll along a dusky skyline.

I back away slowly, leaving the bewildered citizens, and head toward the side of the castle. Pressing my back to the rough wall, I try my communicator again, this time successfully.

“Fallon,” she answers my page.

“What happened?” I say, my voice barely above a whisper.

Silence, then, “We’re trying to figure that out.” Her voice is calm and steady, and that scares me more than if she was panicking.

I suck in a breath. “Where’s Devlan? Have you spoken with him?”

More static. “The alarm triggered their emergency frequency. Their transmission is shut down to us. They can only communicate with each other at this point.” She pauses. “Zara. We tracked your movement, but we waited as you instructed. Who else did you take to Hart’s chamber?”

My forehead creases. “Only Sebastian. But, we didn’t go in at first. We left—” I don’t finish. We don’t have time to go over this right now. “Fallon, I have to find Devlan.”

“I know.” Crackling. “And tell Xander…tell him to contact me when you find him.” I now hear the worry in her voice. “We’re grouped and on our way.”

I nod to myself, bolstering the assurance of her words. “I’ll contact you when I find them.” I stuff the device back into my bodice.

The Rebels are on their way here. I understand why immediately. Court has a wall.

I peek around the corner. All of Karm has gathered in Court for the wedding. There’s a chance some are still in town and the country, but most are here.

I pray Hadley and her family are here, too, and that they are safe.

My eyes trail over the stone wall. I’m not sure what type of monsters will cross into Karm now that the barrier’s down, but whatever they are, they might not be able to climb.

I need to shut the gate.

The Rebels will come through the opening near the meadow, but the gate needs to be closed to keep Outside from finding its way into Court.

Bringing my communicator out once more, I page Fallon. When she responds, I say, “Block the opening at the meadow once you’re through.” Then I take off toward the back of the castle. I need to make my way around, along the edge, so I’m not spotted by the Force.

I stop short when I see rows of knights lined up on the tournament field. Has Sebastian come to his senses? He’s seen Outside with his own eyes now. Maybe he’s taken command and is already gearing up for battle. It won’t be enough, though. The Rebels will be needed.

Only, Sebastian ordered my arrest. He thinks I had something to do with killing his father—which I’m not sure I didn’t. I saw the Rebel crest on the dagger, and Sebastian saw it, too. How can I sway him to join the Rebels now?

Xander might be one of our only plants Sebastian will trust. Maybe Larkin, as he’s a member of his Round Table, but I don’t trust him. If I locate Devlan, I can find Xander. They still have communication between themselves. They might even be together out on the field.

My heart and mind conflict with each other, one telling me to shut the gate and chance being caught by the Force, the other demanding I seek Devlan.

Duty first. It’s what Devlan would choose. I have to trust my instincts.

After I shut the gate, I’ll find Devlan, and we’ll regroup with the Rebels. Once Sebastian sees the monsters invading Karm, he’ll have no choice. He’ll have to band with us.

I search the field one last time for any of the Rebel plants, then back away and move silently toward the front of the castle. The sky overhead crackles with thunder. Flashes of lightning spark, spiderwebbing the dense clouds.

The two guards from Hart’s chamber are searching for me, and probably every member of the Force has been given the order to capture me by now. I run for the shelter of the treeline, hoping to make my way to the gatehouse undetected. After I get this one thing accomplished, I can slow down long enough to think.

After I enter the thick brush, I make quick work of slicing off the train of my dress and discarding the excess. Then I take determined steps. My thoughts plague me, and I stumble a couple of times, nearly forgetting my destination.

The barrier is gone. I have clear access to my father. I could ride Sterlyn right out into the open and find Morgana—the compound—but I know how reckless that would be. I need to stop and center myself. We need a convoy to go after them all at once. Because when the cannibals discover we’re taking away their food supply, King Hart’s treaty is through. I can’t face Outside on my own, no matter how badly I want to go after my father.

I’ll do him no good if I do.

As I round the wooded area near the gatehouse, a snap sends my senses into high alert. I freeze.

Something in the bushes rustles, and I whip around.

A knight in crimson and black approaches me. “Larkin?”

THIRTY-THREE

Larkin steps from behind a tree. “Sneaking away?” He takes another, calculated step closer to me. “I always figured you for a coward when it came down to it.”

I shake my head, tightening my grip on my sword. “I haven’t been able to contact anyone. What happened? Where’s Devlan—” I rest my line of questioning as he continues to approach me, his sword outstretched.

He shrugs, his eyes cold and hard. “I’m not concerned about any of them.” He halts when he’s right before me. “If I’d have waited for the Rebel’s plan to take effect, it would’ve been too late.” He sighs dramatically. “I’ve been in this position before. And it never plays out in my favor.”

“You,” I breathe, realization dawning. “You killed King Hart. And you attacked the mainframe and took down the barrier.”

His eyebrows shoot up. “I see you’re not as slow as I suspected. Way to put it together so quickly, princess.” I take a step backward, and he raises the point of his sword toward me. “Stop.”

My chest rises as I take in a sharp breath. “What is your plan now, Larkin?”

His free hand fumbles at his uniform vest, and I glimpse what he’s trying to stuff inside his pocket—vials.

The antidote.

His eyes follow mine, and he quickly shoves the vials into his vest. “Step aside, princess. I don’t have time to deal with you.”

“We would’ve gotten the antidote soon enough,” I say. “You didn’t have to do this. Now everything has been compromised.”

He chokes out a hollow laugh. “No. I watched you. I knew from the start you wouldn’t kill Hart.”

“Larkin.” I say his name calmly, trying to reason with him. “I was getting through to Sebastian. There was another way we—”

“Shut up,” he snaps. “You failed to complete the mission, so I took it over. It’s done. Hart is dead, and now I have the antidote, and I’m going to get my sister back.” He glares at me. “I’m tired of waiting around. Years, princess. I’ve spent years waiting to see this moment realized. I wasn’t about to let you botch it up because your precious heart is torn over the noble Devlan and the sweet but tormented prince.” He scoffs. “Honestly, I’m sick to death of woman leaders. Now, move the fuck aside.” He coughs and places his hand over his mouth, the fit nearly causing him to convulse. When his hand comes away, it’s coated in red. Blood.

“The Virus,” I say. “You’re sick, and you don’t have much time.”

He raises his brows again. “She gets another point for being observant!” He laughs, then steps around me.

I spin toward him and raise my sword. “I’m not letting you leave here with the antidote. We all need it.” I meet his menacing glare. “We can analyze the serum and make enough for you and your sister and everyone, Larkin. You just have to trust me.”

He runs his blade along mine as he steps into a fighting stance. The shrill sound and vibration send chills along my back. “Oh, princess,” he says low, tense. “I was so hoping you’d say that. I only wish I could see poor Devlan’s face when he views what’s left of you when I’m finished.”

He’s mad. He has to be. I pull back into a defensive position, and block his blade as he slashes toward my face. He’s not performing. This isn’t a training exercise. Larkin is going for blood. I drive his blade upward, then take the clear shot at his exposed side, slicing him along the ribs.

“Bitch.” He grabs his rib cage.

Larkin’s injury should make this a more even fight, but I have to focus my attacks where they’ll count the most. Not giving him a second to recover, I feint and lunge, my blade straight as I aim for his stomach.

Favoring his right side, he taps my sword to the side. “I see Devlan trained you well,” he says. “But who do you think trained him?” He flicks his sword quickly, wounding my shoulder.

My arm spasms with pain and I cry out. Gripping my arm to hold it steady, I shakily extend my sword. The sleeve of my now-tarnished wedding dress hangs loosely, my bare shoulder dripping blood. The muscle has been spared—only a flesh wound—but the searing pain is distracting.

Larkin laughs. “It may be fun to remove your dress bit by bit.” He cocks his head. “Both boys would get a rise out of finding you in such a scandalous way.” His sword takes another swipe and I retreat, the tip just missing my other shoulder.

Lifting my chin, I counter, “Is that the only way you can get a maiden to disrobe before you, Larkin?” I advance, striking his blade and knocking it downward. “Or do you just hate strong women because you’re weak?” I raise my sword and twist sideways, blocking his attack as he cleaves the air before me. “I’ll be sure to leave you with a shred of dignity.”

His face pinches in anger, and he grinds his teeth. He moves forward, slashing at the foliage to clear his path to me, and then repeatedly beats my sword downward. I move backward, keeping out of his range, his injury limiting his reach. Angered, he shouts and lunges. I attempt to turn and cover my body, but he slashes my midsection.

I drop my sword and wrap an arm around my stomach as I fall to my knees.

He stands above me, his sword aimed at my throat. “Goodbye, Princess Zara.” He bends over, leaning in close to my ear. “I’ll give my condolences to your father.”

Anger wells in my chest, overtaking the pain in my stomach, and I stare up his blade. My fingers find the hem of my dress. Before he straightens, I grasp my dagger and lunge.

He falls to the ground, bringing me with him. I hear his ragged, gurgling breath as he gasps, and I lift myself off his body. His eyes look from me to the dagger and back. His lung is punctured, and he’s going to die a slow and painful death.

I close my eyes and twist the dagger, digging the blade deeper into his chest.

He releases one last, labored breath.

Shaking, I open my eyes and extract my dagger. Blood runs down the blade and onto my hand. I lean over and wipe it off on his vest.

Before I sheath it and pick up my sword, I look down at him. “I will save your sister.” I give him one last look of regard before I dig out the two vials and head toward the gatehouse.

THIRTY-FOUR

Two guards stand watch in each of the gatehouse towers. Ducking behind a tree, I press my back against the bark and take shallow breaths. After carefully examining my stomach wound, I found it wasn’t as deep as the pain first led me to believe, though it bleeds steadily now. I use my sword to cut a strip of material from the bottom of my dress and bandage the cut. I bite down on my lip so I don’t cry out as I pull the knot tight.

I quickly inspect my shoulder. It’s already started to clot. Sliding my sword into my sash, I hold my stomach with one arm and move out of the brush.

Glancing at the castle once, I inhale a deep breath, then latch onto the first rung leading up to the control booth. My hand trembles as I reach for the second, my stomach ablaze with pain, but I pull myself steadily up.

I don’t want to kill another, but if Sebastian still has his knights ordered to arrest me, and the guard in the tower attacks, I’m not sure what I’ll do. All I know is I need to close the gate. Maybe I can simply bash him over the head and knock him out.

Or maybe he will end me. I’m in horrible shape.

There’s no use trying to figure out what will be before it happens. I reach for the third rung and hoist myself up the ladder. Hands grasp me around my waist, pulling me down. I scream from the pain and fail to reach my sword.

“You’re ordered by the Force to surrender your weapons and come with us, Princess Zara,” the knight in a crimson vest says as he restrains my arms.

He grips my shoulder and more pain slices through me. I struggle against him only a moment before I’m thrown to the ground. My hands scrape the gravel as I slide to a stop. Another knight approaches. His large black boots stomp my way, then I feel a shock.

A V-Baton.

I fall limp, and my chest hits the dirt. Willing my limbs to listen to me, I attempt to move my body, but I can’t move anything. I know I’m shaking—convulsing as I saw the crazed man do—because the earth vibrates in my vision.

They grab me by my biceps, and pain blazes through my body as they drag me toward the castle. The ground blurs, and my mouth parts to release a rant of reasons why the gate needs to close, but even my tongue won’t obey me. Don’t they understand what’s happening? Doesn’t Sebastian understand?

No. He doesn’t understand anything. Damn Larkin.

One of the knights must notice the blood on my dress and decide I’ll be half-dead by the time he reaches his destination. He lifts me into his arms and carries me the rest of the way. My eyes roll back in my head, and I’m suddenly more tired than I’ve ever been. I think of the crazed man, shocked three times, and wonder if he survived.

I feel motion taking us upward, or it could be down. I’m not sure. The backs of my eyelids are too inviting and, though I know there’s something I should be trying to do, all I want is to sleep.

When I finally open my eyes, my head is foggy, and I’m seated in a chair in the transparent room. The weight of my situation crashes down on me and I slouch, consumed with failure. I’m right back in King Hart’s secret chamber. I haven’t gotten far in any of my endeavors.

Maybe Larkin was right. Maybe I’m simply a coward and I allowed my fear to talk me out of the mission that I’d vowed to complete. If I would’ve ridden the lift to King Hart’s chamber with Sebastian the first time he tried to take me, I could’ve ended Hart and proceeded with the plan as it should have played out.

But no, my heart still tells me I had a chance to reach Sebastian and stop it all. And maybe I’m not too late. There’s still a possibility I can convince him of what needs to be done. I have to try.

I weakly twist my stiff neck and glance around the room. King Hart is no longer hooked to the machine near his throne. He’s been removed. Blood stains the fabric, and lights on the machine hold steady, unblinking. A knight places a chair directly in front of me, and Sebastian sits down.

He snaps his fingers, and the knight in crimson walks to the corner of the room and turns a dial. The clear walls shimmer, rippling as a dark coat of gray paints them and encloses us. I can no longer see the sky. Low-hanging lanterns illuminate the shadowed room in an unnatural glow.

“There,” Sebastian says. “Now it feels as if we have some privacy.” His eyes look me up and down. Their once-golden light now dim and flat. “You still look lovely as ever in your wedding gown.”

My body is slightly numb, and my limbs weak. I don’t feel the pain in my stomach and shoulder as intensely, and my eyes widen.

“You were given a pain shot while you were out,” Sebastian says. “I couldn’t have you passing out during our chat.”

Though my head is dizzy and I’m still aware of my injuries, I manage to sit forward. “Sebastian, please listen to me.”

He holds up his hand. “Do you know what I discovered, Zara?” He lifts an eyebrow, but it’s not really a question. “My father left me a holographic recording, explaining—more thoroughly than you, I might add—about the realm.” He lowers his head and stares me directly in the eyes. “I was worried your Rebels took that from me. I’ve waited a long time for him to bestow the power to rule on me, and I understand what has to be done for the betterment of Karm. I plan to see it through.” A slanted smile hikes the side of his mouth. “My father was a genius, but I flatter myself the visionary.”

Sebastian has to be confused. “What about your ideas? What about all the things you planned to do to make this a better place for the citizens? Don’t you think those Outside deserve that same life?”

A harsh sneer crooks his lips. “There are always sacrifices, Zara.” He releases a mock sigh. “Nothing great comes without a price.”

Dread creeps over me. “But your father made that choice for others, Sebastian. We’re not given a choice in offering ourselves for the betterment of Karm,” I plead with him. “You have to know what he’s done here is wrong.”

“What I know is that my father locked himself away for years because of the Rebels.” His eyes bore through me. “He lived in fear of assassination, and look what happened! I won’t let that happen to me.” He bounds from his chair and grasps the arms of mine. I press my back into the cushion as he hovers over me. “I know what it takes to rule. Strength. Being able to do what others are too weak to accomplish.” His breath skims my lips as he sinks closer.

“This is only the anger and hurt talking,” I say, trying to convince myself as much as him. “You need time to grieve, and then you’ll know what you’re saying is false. I can hear the tremble in your voice. You don’t believe your own words.” I force myself to hold his stare. “They’re not even yours. They’re your father’s.”

Anger flares in his eyes, and I brace myself, waiting for his strike. Suddenly, his gaze softens as his eyes flick to my mouth. “I still need a queen,” he says. “I’ll do all the things I’ve planned, just on a grander scale. And who better to help me lead a retaliation against the Rebels than one of their own?”

Is he really this far gone? Or did the good I saw in him ever exist at all? I feel like a fool—a naïve pawn being

perfectly maneuvered around a board.

“No, Sebastian. You know that I won’t.” The anger blazes back to life in his eyes. He still can’t accept rejection. “It’s over. The barrier is down. We have a war to fight. You need the Rebels alongside your knights to fight the monsters of Outside.”

“The Rebels obviously don’t know everything.” A harsh smile tugs at his lips. “And it’s too bad you won’t reconsider my request. I was hoping you’d make the right choice.” He grabs the back of my head and yanks my hair, forcing my face up as he crushes his lips to mine. Pulling back, he says, “Guards!” He pushes off the chair and stares down at me. “Take her to the Oubliette.”

Stumbling to my feet, I attempt to run, but they have me in their hold in seconds. I look at Sebastian. “You know this is wrong.”

He walks up to me and removes the silver crown from my head. “Sometimes, forgetting is the only way one can move on.” He turns his back to me as the knights force me into the lift.

* * *

I try to gauge the time I’ve spent in my windowless dungeon by the light seeping in through the crack far above my head. When I went to sleep, it was pitch black. Then it became brighter, and now it’s black again.

One day.

My pain medication wore off a while ago, and now my stomach throbs with pulsing heat despite the cold. I shiver. Infection is setting in. There’s a tiny dribble of water leaking down the side of the cave wall. I collect a handful and drink, then hold my blood-stained bandage up to wet the cloth. I try to keep my injuries as clean as possible, but I’m becoming too weak to tend to them.

I press my palm to my chest, aching to feel my communicator. The Force relieved me of just about everything I valued—my only connection to Devlan, my father’s dagger, the antidote, even the sleeping potion I was to give to Sebastian. At least if I still had it, I might be able to sleep through the agony of a slow death

They did leave me my commitment gift and Madity’s necklace. I push aside Sebastian’s locket and grip Madity’s necklace tightly, as if it’s my last lifeline and she can feel me through it, hear my prayers.

A damp cold chills me to my bones, and I pull my dress over my legs, tucking them close to my body. I wrap my arms around my knees. This place smells of death, and filth, and decay. All around me is dark stone, only there’s not much light, so I’m not sure as to the exact color. Only the small sliver of light bleeding through the crack in the ceiling shines just enough for me to make out my surroundings.

To my left, decomposing bones lie scattered, and a dirty, half-crumbled skull stares up at me. Its teeth dig into the dirt floor. I kick the skull over the edge of the Oubliette and wait to hear it hit the bottom. The sound never comes. I’m not sure if there is a bottom, though there’s a door just on the other side of the abyss. I have a ledge the size of my body if I stretch out, but I hunker against the wall, trying to keep warm.

How many days will it take for me to die? With little to no water if the dribble stops, maybe five. I’m not certain when I last ate. My mind drifts back, rethinking how this could’ve played out differently. I’d like to accuse Larkin of everything—place the blame on his impatience and the possibility that the Virus drove him mad.

But I know I’m most to blame, though I can’t take it all upon myself. Devlan and the Rebels played a part, too. We all gambled with deceit, betrayal, and lies, and we lost. I bet on Sebastian’s virtue and the fact that I thought he was different from his father. All the signs were before me. I only chose to see what I wanted.

Now, my father will die either laboring in a harsh environment, his mind forever lost, or as a sacrifice to the cannibals. Sebastian will exact revenge on the Rebels, waging a war against them while also fighting the monsters of Outside, until he figures out a way to control the chaos invading Karm.

His words plague me.

The Rebels obviously don’t know everything.

I try to forget the horror of it all and focus on finding a way out. If my injuries didn’t already make it impossible to climb, the condition of the Oubliette does. The walls are flat and smooth, slick with slimy algae and impossible to scale. If there were a way out, I’m sure my bony companion would have found it.

When my mind is too weary to churn through faults and regrets, I lie down and shut my eyes. I tremble, chills overtaking me, my bones sore. I pass out.

A tiny stone hits my head. I scurry against the wall, fearful that somehow rats can climb the abyss walls. I hold still and wait to see their movement. A scraping sound comes from above, and I look up. Something is moving. I strain my eyes to see in the darkness.

Someone drops in front of me. I back as far as I can against the wall and shield myself.

“Zara,” Devlan’s voice echoes through the Oubliette. His arms reach out to me.

“Devlan,” I say, fearing I’ve lost my mind. “You’re here.”

His arms wrap around me, pulling me to him, and I inhale his scent of woods and mint, and the sweetness I can never identify but know is his. He kisses my forehead, then pulls back. My eyes begin to focus, and I can make out the curves of his face.

A tear slips down my cheek. “You’re here,” I say again, because the words didn’t feel real the first time.

His lips find mine, and he kisses me urgently. Breaking away, he presses his forehead to mine, and says against my lips, “I’ll always come for you.”

THIRTY-FIVE

After Devlan anchors me to his body with a harness, he climbs the cable toward the ceiling of the Oubliette. The crack is no longer a sliver. A circle of light now shows the way out, and as we reach it, he climbs through. I try to help, but only manage to pull dirt down around us.

When I feel grass, I inhale the fresh air around me. “Here,” Devlan says, unhooking the harness as he lays me on the ground. “Rest a minute while I re-cover the hole.”

“How did you find me?”

He taps the sod into place, then layers pine straw over it, making it look as though the ground was never disturbed. “Xander is still on the inside. He told me you’d been taken to the Oubliette, and Fallon knew of a way in.” He attempts a smile.

I nod, slowly trying to piece things together. “But you’re no longer on the inside.”

“No,” he says. “My cover was blown after I found out you were put here.” He drives his hand through his hair. “But I managed to escape the Force after trying to attack Sebastian.”

“Devlan,” I say quickly. “You shouldn’t have risked—”

“It’s done,” he cuts me off. “I couldn’t restrain myself around him any longer, regardless.”

I hate that he’s blown his cover for me, but maybe it’s best. Sebastian probably would’ve punished Devlan for my rejection anyway if he hadn’t left. He’s here now, and we’ll figure everything out together.

Glancing around, I say, “How far away from the castle are we?”

“Not far.” His eyes slip over me, seemingly noticing my defaced wedding dress for the first time. His features harden. “But there’s no one to erase the feed if we’re seen. We need to move.”

With Devlan’s arm supporting me, we evade the Eyes of the forest. We creep through the trees as we near the brook. Fireblood waits for us. Her long black mane dangles in the water as she drinks. Devlan leads me to her, and I run my hand along her dark coat. Leaning my head against her, I relish the feel of freedom her presence brings.

I choke out a strained sob, holding my stomach as I try to lessen the pain my trembling brings. “I thought I could…” I trail off, not sure how to explain why I deviated from the mission. I shake my head against Fireblood.

Devlan’s hand cups my face, and he turns me toward him. His thumbs caress my chin, my cheeks, as he looks me over. “She has fire in her blood,” he says, his pale blue eyes glimmering in the moonlight. “And she’s stubborn as hell.”

I sniff back my tears, and force strength into my eyes for him. “Then, is Fireblood to be my new name? Or is there one especially for those who mess up this royally?”

His lips curl into a smile as he touches them softly to mine. He nods, and whispers, “Mine.”

* * *

As we near the Rebel camp, Fireblood comes to a sudden stop when Devlan tightens her reins.

I glance around. “What’s wrong?”

His form goes rigid in my arms. He leans back and silently cues his horse to back away. Twigs snap under Fireblood’s hooves as she retraces her steps. I can feel her hesitancy beneath me. Cautiously, I angle my head around Devlan, and freeze.

Large indigo eyes, reflecting the moon so brightly that they glow, stare back at me. A low growl rumbles from the beast. My arms hug Devlan tighter. “What—”

“Shh,” he says. Fireblood snorts.

The hair of the monster’s dark-gray coat stands up as it lowers itself to the ground, readying for an attack. It’s close to the size of Fireblood, and its legs bulge with muscles under its matted fur.

Dread creeps over me as I stare into its wild eyes, but it’s the mutated wolf’s face that scares me the most. Its long muzzle and pointed ears have no fur. Black skin stretches over its face. Thin lips pull back to reveal razor-sharp teeth tinged with blood.

“Hold on.” Devlan kicks his heels and leans forward, urging Fireblood to charge past the monster.

Fireblood gathers herself, and the beast lunges. I latch my arms around Devlan, holding on as Fireblood gallops off.

As we near the twinkling lights of camp, Devlan shouts, “Arms!”

A barricade of large cemented blocks, bags of grain and sand, and logs surrounds the Rebel camp. Rebels spring up from the other side of the makeshift wall, wielding bows. Their arrows whiz past us as we head for the barricade’s opening.

Once we clear the barricade, Devlan pulls his horse to a stop. The guy behind us slams the gate. Devlan dismounts. “Don’t move until I get back,” he says before running toward the wall. Grabbing up a bow, he shoots arrows at the monster.

Shakily, I nudge Fireblood to turn and face the fight. It’s chaos. The wolf hurdles back and forth, higher than any animal I’ve ever seen jump, dodging arrows. The arrows that do connect glance off its hide. Finally, one hits its mark—the beast’s soft underbelly. It howls, the sound sending a tremor down my spine.

As the beast tries to retreat back into the woods, the Rebels take up their swords and climb the wall, going after it. The Rebels surround the mutated wolf, their weapons raised, and attack.

The giant jaws of the monster snap at them. Then someone slices its jowl, while another strikes a tendon above one massive paw. Its mouth hangs loosely, and the monster limps away before it falls to the earth.

Devlan stands over it and sinks his sword into its chest. The beast releases one last distorted howl, gurgling out its death rattle.

I’ve been locked away for only a day, and the world has gone mad.

Once Devlan reaches me, he tosses his blood-coated sword to the ground. “Zara,” he says, worry lacing his voice. But he says nothing else, and I know there’s nothing he can say. He wraps his arms around me, and I cling to him as he lowers me off the horse.

As we make our way toward a tent, I glance around at the changed camp. It’s become a battlefield headquarters. Weapons and tables with maps and gear are set up all over, fires burning to light the darkness as Rebels plan tactics and strategies.

Devlan holds back a flap, and I enter the dark tent. He helps me to the cot before striking a match to light a candle and setting it on a small desk. “I need to tend to your wounds.”

He walks over to a canvas bag and takes out a gray tunic. I reach behind my back to unlace the backing of my mangled wedding dress and wince at the pain that small action causes. His hands clasp mine, and he lowers them to my thighs, wrapping his arms around me.

His arms linger, holding me for a moment before he begins to loosen the backing. Pulling the still-intact shoulder of my dress down, he slides the top to my waist. Then he carefully lifts my arms and slips the tunic over my head.

“Lie down.” He gently guides me to recline on the soft blanket, then pulls my dress past my hips and casts it to the corner. “You have no idea how badly I wanted that dress off of you.”

A small frown tugs at my lips. When he’s done mending me, I’m going to toss it into one of the fires.

Lifting the front of the tunic, his eyes roam over my stomach. “Bastard.” He releases a heavy breath, then says, “If you hadn’t ended him, I would have.”

My eyebrows knit together, and I stare at his pained face, the candlelight flickering in his eyes. “How did you hear?” How is it he seems to know all that’s happened to me, yet I’ve heard nothing of him since the night we said our goodbye in the tunnel?

He gets to his feet and gathers supplies from his desk. He sets everything near the cot—a rag, a bottle of alcohol, a bowl of water, bandages, and adhesive. Then he kneels down beside me. “First drink some water.” He grabs a canteen and places it to my mouth.

When the water hits my mouth, my body remembers how thirsty I am, and I can’t get enough. I guzzle, not caring how desperate I look.

“Slowly,” he says, lowering it from my lips. “You’ll get sick if you take in too much.” He sighs before answering my question. “Fallon had her transmission person hack into the court feed. They were able to view everything that happened in Court.”

“You watched me kill Larkin.”

“I saw a replay.”

My face burns, shame flowing through me that I can’t bury at that moment.

“You should’ve heard the cheers go up in camp. I think there were bets on who would be the one to take him out.”

I know he’s trying to make me feel better about my actions, so I give him a small, reassuring smile, though my chest aches. I never want to kill another person if I can avoid it.

He leans closer to me. “I was at the meadow during it all, setting up last-minute communications for reinforcements if we needed them.” His eyes close. “If I’d have known—”

“No, Devlan.” I run my hand along his tense arm. “I made the decision. Nothing that happened was anyone’s fault but my own.”

He opens his eyes, and his features relax. “You made the right call, Zara.” He smoothes my hair away from my face. “Sebastian fooled me, too. He never would’ve joined with the Rebels, no matter how you tried to sway him. It was a lost cause.” He reaches for the rag. “Before the tournament match, I was on the cusp of trusting him, but those days between us are long gone.”

“So, I’m not a failure?”

The rag hovers just above my skin, and his eyes hold mine. “Hardly a failure. I don’t know what I would’ve done if I’d lost you.” His eyes flick down my body, then back to my face. Warmth rushes through me. “All that matters is you’re safe, and you’re still the willful girl I trained.” He tilts his head. “Though, that’s easier to admit when you’re half-naked in my tent.”

I bat his arm and wince. “I think I trained you some,” I say. “Now, fix me up so I can train you some more.”

A half-grin creeps up the side of his face, and he winks.

He places a pill on my tongue and makes me swallow, promising it will help with the pain. It does, but only a fraction. A chill sweeps over my body as he massages the wet cloth into my wound, cleaning away the infection, dirt, and debris. The alcohol is like fire searing me from the inside, but I try to keep my face stoic as he works, as it seems my pain hurts him more than me.

When he’s done mending my wounds, he slides next to me on the blanket and wraps his arms around me. I press my forehead to his, listening to his breath as it caresses my lips.

Safe.

“What happens now?” I ask.

“Now,” he says, cradling me closer. “I never leave your side again.”

THIRTY-SIX

I pull a swig of water and swallow one of the pills Devlan gave me, then recap my canteen. After I finish the last four over the next two days, my infection should be gone. My fever broke this morning, and already I’m feeling much stronger. Devlan said that my attempt at keeping my stomach wound clean in the Oubliette saved me from a harsh recovery. Small blessings.

The sky slowly fades from purple to dark blue as I stare up in wonderment. The faint blue lines run against it, doming the air above. My gaze drops and then drifts over the forest as dawn breaks. The rays of early sunlight splinter through the forest canopy.

A howl sounds in the distance, and I wrap my arms around my body. Light footsteps crunch the earth near me. They’re too soft to be Devlan’s.

“Devlan held back many details last night,” I say as Fallon sits down next to me. “I admit I was exhausted, and wounded, but Sebastian raising the barrier is too big a detail to deny me simply for the sake of my health.”

Fallon tosses a stick into the fire before us. “Larkin’s decoding disk didn’t hold up against Excalibur, and shortly after you were taken to the Oubliette, Sebastian restored Karm’s force field.”

I nod. Maybe Larkin never intended for his device to take it down permanently. I remember him rushing with the vials of antidote to rescue his sister, the Virus already taking hold in his body. Now I believe it was a desperate attempt to save her and himself before his mind was taken. Which means he had it planned all along.

“So, that hellish day would’ve happened no matter which path I chose.” I look at her.

Her dark hair is down around her shoulders. It’s longer than I imagined. She looks younger like this. Her soft features press into hard lines. “It would have, Zara. No one faults you.” She sighs. “However, the force field was down long enough for monsters to wander into Karm. The Rebel camp is near the outskirts, so it was the first to be attacked. Then the monsters roamed into the country, wreaking havoc on farms and laborers working the fields. And then the chaos reached the town limits, where Sebastian commanded the Force and his army of knights to drive them into the forest.”

“And the citizens? How many have lost their lives?” I hold my breath, hoping Hadley is all right and her family found a safe hiding place.

Fallon’s eyes find mine, large and sad. “Many. Maybe around twenty or more. We’re still waiting to hear a report of the exact number and names.”

I lower my head, lost as to what to say. I set my canteen down in the dirt, digging the bottom into the earth near the campfire. My wedding dress sizzles next to me, beads and sequins popping as smoke billows into the frosty morning air.

Someone shouts, and both Fallon and I whip our heads around. I expect to see another mutated animal attacking, but Rebels are running for the Mordred tent. Getting to my feet, I brace my stomach with my arm to soften the jolting from my footsteps, then follow after them. The flaps are pulled back to expose the monitors and machines inside.

Devlan walks up beside us. “A transmission from Town Square is coming through. It’s broadcasting all over Karm.”

He links his arm around my waist, and moves me closer to the tent as static echoes through the camp. Fallon takes off toward the back of the tent, where Xander and Silas are adjusting the transmission.

“I thought Xander stayed behind?” I ask Devlan.

“His cover is still in place,” he says absently, his eyes roaming the tent. “Now that our transmission has been shut down, he’s our only link to information from Court. We have no one else on the inside, and no other way to know what Sebastian is planning.”

I can’t help but feel it would be best if Xander didn’t go back at all. Sebastian now knows Rebels were right by his side—the people he most trusted. Xander is risking too much by being our eyes and ears.

Following Devlan’s gaze, I look to the one large monitor that’s set up in the middle of the tent. Blue and green lines wash over it in waves, then an image appears on the screen.

Sebastian.

He’s wearing King Hart’s crown—no, his crown now. And even through the screen I can see his golden eyes. They flicker on the monitor, making my skin prickle as his gaze seems to travel over me. His expression is set, hard. Behind him, the buildings of Town Square puff smoke into the sky, seemingly normal, as if everyone is working and it’s just another day in the market.

“Greetings, citizens of Karm,” he says, and Devlan pulls me tighter to his side. “I apologize for the urgency and quickness of this transmission, but there is no time for pleasantries.” He pauses. “Many things need to be addressed, although I assure you, Karm is under my complete control.” He glares into the camera, and I feel as if he’s looking straight at me. “The barrier is restored, and the beasts of Outside have been forced toward the outskirts of Karm. However, you’re advised to stay near your homes until the Force rids us of every last one.”

I survey the faces of the Rebels. The camp, their home, soon will be invaded by the Force looking to kill the monsters. I realize the camp is now my home, too. I take in a deep breath, and my stomach aches at the pressure.

Sebastian smiles. Not the smile that crinkles the corners of his eyes, the one I used to feel assured by, but a knowing leer that makes me shiver. “But,” he says, “the monsters are not our only enemies. My father was murdered by conspirators against the throne. He was murdered by Rebels.”

My heart drops, and I look up. Devlan’s expression is guarded as he stares at the screen, hiding all emotions. But I can feel the tremble of anger in his body.

“And, as my father didn’t tolerate insolence,” Sebastian continues, “neither shall I.”

The screen pans the market, coming to a stop on the middle of the square, on the platform.

The air leaves my lungs.

A wooden scaffold towers over the platform. Five citizens are strung up. They balance on footstools, nooses tied around their necks. I grab Devlan’s hand and squeeze as the camera zooms closer, showing their faces. No.

Madity.

“Anyone found to be conspiring with the Rebels forfeits their life,” Sebastian says. Then he shouts, “Hang!”

Two knights in crimson move behind the citizens and then, one at a time, kick the footstools from beneath their feet. Madity is in the middle, and when the knight reaches her, I bury my head in Devlan’s chest, tears already forming.

There’s no sound, no protests, just dead silence coming from the monitor. Devlan’s arms enclose me. His hand shields my eyes as he presses my face to his chest.

Another moment of quiet, and then Sebastian’s voice booms over the transmission. “In an attempt to rid Karm of the traitors, a full search of every citizen’s home has been ordered. And to the Rebels watching this now—” a beat “—a far worse death awaits you.”

Static.

Fury ignites my blood. Gripping Devlan’s tunic, I try to stop my tears, but they spill over, leaving behind a burning trail. Devlan pulls back and looks into my eyes. His features have dropped the mask, and his eyes narrow in anger.

I inhale a clipped breath. “Did you know the others?” Did Devlan just witness someone close to him die? Should I be comforting him, too?

He shakes his head slowly. “They were not Rebels.”

The blood in my veins stills, icy and thick. “He’s murdering innocents?” I shake my head. “There’s going to be even more death,” I choke out, unable to grasp my thoughts and the full loss of Madity. “This was just a message. He’ll kill more to get at us.”

Devlan’s eyes bore into me. “He’s calling us out.”

THIRTY-SEVEN

We’re seated around the campfires, looking up at Fallon and Xander as they stand before us. Fights have broken out since the transmission yesterday, everyone pulling in different directions about what needs to be done.

If we don’t stand together, then Sebastian has already won. His Force will storm the camp and wipe us out along with the feared monsters. I run my hands through my tangles of hair, anxious for Fallon to take control of the situation and determine a plan.

“We need to march on the castle now!” a man behind me yells.

“And then what?” Fallon shouts.

Xander places his hand on Fallon’s shoulder and steps forward. She’s been pacing and yelling for an hour, trying to calm the mob. She looks as if she’s about to pass out.

“Will you have our leader lead us all to our deaths?” Xander asks him. There’s no reply. “Our leader will not do this.” He glances around. “Not until we’re grouped and ready for battle with numbers that will challenge the king’s knights will we move. All we’ll do is present ourselves to King Sebastian on a platter to be slaughtered.” Murmurs circle, and Xander looks over the seated Rebels on the ground. “Our families are still out there. We can’t chance their lives either. We’ve chosen to be here to protect them.”

Hadley’s face pops into my mind. Sebastian knows of my affection for her. What if he’s already taken her, just waiting for the right moment to torture her in order to force me out?

I rise to my feet, no longer able to sit and do nothing. I can at least find Hadley and protect her from Sebastian’s wrath.

The Rebels quiet down, and I take in their sudden stillness. They’re not looking at me, but at something past me. Slowly, I turn and face the forest.

Citizens.

They’re walking toward the barricade, and more people are emerging from the woods. I try to count, but there’re too many. Then I see Hadley. I don’t think. I start toward her. “Hadley!”

I hear cries behind me, and soon others are rushing toward their loved ones, their friends, their reasons why we’re here. I wonder how long it’s been since the Rebels dedicated their lives to this cause—how long since they’ve seen their families.

Someone beats me to the gate and unlatches it. They file in, and Hadley’s lost in the throng. I search everywhere. Hadley’s dark hair stands out to me, then the green dress I remember she loved so much. She drops her satchel and meets me halfway.

Latching my arms around her, I say, “I’ve been so worried about you. I had no idea how to find you or contact you.” I pull back, find her eyes. “Hadley, so many things have happened. I’m sorry I ran after the announcement—”

“Just stop, Zara.” A somber smile stretches across her face. She hugs me once more, then backs away, her brown eyes searching me. “I was never angry with you. I was scared for you. You hated the thought of being in that castle, and I swear, I wanted to find a way to get you back after they took you and your…” She trails off and looks down.

“It’s all right,” I tell her. “We’re safe to talk about the Taken here. Where’re your parents? You brought them? How did you even find this camp?”

Devlan walks up beside us and gives me a confident nod. I turn back toward Hadley and study her downcast eyes. “What happened?”

I take her to a tent, where I explain about Karm, King Hart, and the true fate of the Taken, and she tells me of what transpired after the prince’s betrothal announcement. Both of her parents contracted the Virus and were taken away. Many more citizens have since become Taken, an epidemic that has sparked widespread fear throughout Karm.

After she lost her parents, she vowed to find a way to me and discovered a coded note my father had given to hers. It was instructions on how to find the Rebel camp in case of an emergency. Hadley didn’t understand the whole message until she saw Sebastian’s recent transmission outing the Rebels.

“Oh, God,” she says. “When he hung those people…” She wipes a tear from her dusky cheek. “The town turned violent. The Force was attacking the citizens right along with those monsters. They beat down doors and arrested anyone and everyone, making accusations of Rebel conspiracy. I knew then that I had to get as many people away from their reach as possible.” She looks down at her lap, and I cover her hands with mine.

The night has come, and the fires burn low, casting shadows against the tent. “You brought them all here?” I ask. “That’s amazing.”

She looks up at me. “I knew I’d find you here. Or at least, I hoped. You weren’t with the prince—I mean the king—during the transmission. And after reading your father’s letter, I knew you’d find a way to escape the castle and go to where he said was safe. I just had to trust that I was doing the right thing by bringing the others.”

I nod. “You did. Sebastian is dangerous, and the truth about Karm needs to be known.” I glance at Devlan. His eyes confirm what I’ve been thinking. Would the citizens band with us? Would they go to war against the new king and his Force?

Devlan looks between me and my friend. “I’m going to speak with Fallon and Xander. I’ll return soon.” He gives me a quick kiss to my forehead and leaves the tent.

Hadley raises an eyebrow. “You can explain that later.” I give her a small smile before she continues. “I want to help.”

“You have,” I assure her.

“No. I want to help get my parents back.” Her hands ball into fists beneath mine. “Whatever it takes, Zara. I have nothing to go back to otherwise.”

Pressing my lips together, I remove my hands from hers and consider her offer. There’s no way I could let her fight in a battle. Even if I had weeks to train her, she wouldn’t be ready. Hadley wasn’t brought up the way I was. She’s delicate. Although, her putting a mission together all on her own to bring citizens to the Rebel camp has admittedly shocked me.

“Okay,” I say. “I know the Rebels will need your help.”

After I help Hadley make up her cot and she finally drifts off, I walk the perimeter of the camp. I find a quiet spot away from the chaos—the citizens and Rebels reuniting, arguing, trying to find a solution.

I lean against a tree and am reminded of the first night I came here with Devlan. Hadley is every bit as determined to find her parents as I was to save my father. I can’t deny her that right to try.

“Is she all right?” Devlan comes up beside the tree and moves me in front of him, wrapping his arm around me.

Pressing the back of my head against his chest, I stare up at the nearly-full moon behind the gridded sky. “I think so. She wants to help the Rebels bring the Taken home.”

Devlan brushes his cheek against the crown of my head. “Maybe she can. We’ll need someone to help Silas monitor the Taken while we invade Castle Karm.”

I turn in his arms and find his eyes, silvery blue pools reflecting the pale light. “The citizens are joining our forces?”

“Fallon believes she can convince them come morning.”

“Then this is it.”

He nods. “This is it.” Lowering his head toward mine, he softly caresses my lips into a kiss. My heart pangs with the knowledge that this may be our last night together. That tomorrow, no matter what, everything changes. I wrap my arms around his neck and press closer to him.

A howl wrenches the night, and Devlan pulls back. “We shouldn’t be so close to the barricade.” He takes my hand. “Come on. I want you in my arms for the rest of the night.”

Heat replaces the chill invading my skin from the cool air, and I allow Devlan to lead me away.

As we move through the camp, I think back on the choices I’ve made, and wonder if anything could’ve spared Madity her fate, if there’s a way I can spare Hadley and the others from sharing it. I palm the crest on Madity’s necklace, wanting to feel her arms around me, reassuring me that everything will be all right.

I’m not confident Sebastian or the Force found incriminating evidence against Madity. I wear around my neck the only proof of her involvement. Hanging her was a message directly to me—my punishment.

Regret for many decisions I’ve made weighs heavily on my soul. And yet, despite how hard I strove throughout all of it, my father remains Outside. This has become much bigger than just saving the Taken, though. Sebastian has become a power monger, reigning with a terror I fear even King Hart couldn’t have matched.

Deep down, I know I never could’ve changed what Sebastian was to become. Despite everything, he’s responsible for his own actions, and he’s made his choice. I have to believe I tried my hardest to save him, or else I’ll go mad. I know what has to be done, and I won’t allow him to make me second-guess myself again.

He’s called out the Rebels, exposed us, and I know exactly why.

Sebastian said he refuses to hide himself away as his father did. King Hart, even in death, has planned out his control over his son by using the Rebels as his excuse, claiming they were the reason he lived in fear. Sebastian’s vanity will never allow him to hide away in such a manner.

He wants the threat gone. He desires to rule the realm with a power that will make him a legend, and he can’t do that tucked away in a secret chamber.

My mind releases its burdened thoughts as Devlan guides me toward his tent. Tomorrow, I will have to do battle, to give myself over to the trained fighter inside me.

But this night, I’m his.

THIRTY-EIGHT

Before morning brings the light, I wake Hadley, take her to the Rebel leader’s tent, and introduce her to Fallon and Silas. Fallon decides Hadley will help Silas monitor the Taken Outside, and I thank her for keeping my friend safe from the coming war.

As I drink a cup of stout, Rebel-brewed coffee, Silas shows her how to work the monitors. “You can pan all areas, but only watch a section at a time.” He taps a key. “Hit record for the unwatched sectors, to check later. Make sure nothing goes undetected.”

The screen slowly scans the Rebel camp, and I latch onto the corner of the table and lean in closer. I point to the screen. “Silas, stop. Who’s that?”

He hits another key, and the monitor zooms in. Cecily. She’s here in the camp, and she’s wounded.

Glancing at Hadley, I set down my mug and ask, “You brought the nobles?”

“I brought all those who wanted to escape.” She looks up at me, her mouth set in a determined line. “This courtier found me. That was when I knew my efforts had reached nearly too widely and it was time to go. I didn’t know which nobles would turn us in to the Force.”

Fallon lays her hand on Hadley’s shoulder. “You did the right thing. I believe most of the nobles are siding with the king.” She looks at the screen. “I wonder what made this one decide to leave her lavish home.”

That’s my question exactly, especially since I know Cecily still has feelings for Sebastian. Now I’m concerned Hadley’s escape was too easy, and maybe Sebastian has his own spies among us.

“I’ll be back,” I tell them, and Devlan joins my side before I duck under the tent flap.

He walks with his hand on the hilt of his sword. “Do you think she’s here for him?”

“I’m not sure, but I’m going to find out.” I look up at him. “Let me talk to her alone first.”

Nodding, he moves out of sight before I walk up to her.

Cecily is seated on the pine straw, a fire crackling at her back. “Cecily,” I say, and her eyes snap to me. “Are you all right?”

She stares at me a moment longer, her eyes roaming over my black pants. Her gaze drops, and she cups her arm. “I was attacked.” Her voice breaks.

Seating myself on the ground beside her, I say, “Let me look at it.” She attempts to roll up her dress sleeve, but it’s too tattered. Grunting, she rips it the rest of the way off. “What was it?” I inspect the deep slashes—claw marks. They’re red and swollen.

“I’m not sure,” she says, her eyes on the wound. “It was big and black. It looked like a larger, scarier version of a dog.” She sniffs. “This man saved me. He killed it.”

I nod. “And he brought you? That’s how you came to be here?” I dip my head, trying to find her eyes.

She meets mine. “Nay. I was already on my way here when this happened. After Sebastian threw me out of Court”—she looks away—“I went into town, and overheard a group in a shop talking about a safe haven.” Her eyes, hard and accusing, flick to me. “How did you come to be here?”

Looking to Devlan, I find him at the treeline and motion toward her arm. He turns and goes to find antiseptic and a bandage. I release Cecily’s arm, and say simply, “I escaped.” She lowers her eyes. I’m not sure if she knew I was locked away, but she doesn’t probe. “Sebastian tossed you out of Court.”

“He’s different.” Her voice hitches. “He’s always been mischievous and mean, and I liked that.” She looks at me. “It’s strength. What a strong man should be. But this is…he is different. Something has changed in him.”

I’m not sure I agree with her claim. Not having grown up in Court around Sebastian, I can’t say whether this has always been his true nature. Whether he was simply waiting for his father to give him power so he could become the king, or whether something in him has truly given way to a darker half.

Regardless, it doesn’t change the fact that Sebastian needs to be stopped. “So, how do I believe you’re not here to spy on the Rebels for him?”

Her blue eyes widen, glistening with intense pain. “I love him,” she says. “But I’m not cruel. I would never do what he did—I’d never have hung that maid. She was nice to me.” She looks down. “I’m not evil.” She bites off the word. “Whatever you may think of me.”

“I don’t think that of you, Cecily,” I say, and take her hand. “I always thought Sebastian a fool for not choosing you.”

She lifts her head, and a small smile forms on her thin mouth.

A crash sounds from across the camp, and Cecily and I jerk. Shouting echoes off the pines. My eyes follow a group hurrying toward the Rebel leader’s tent. “Time to go,” I tell her, and help her stand.

Maybe I’m a fool myself for trusting Cecily, but I believe her. I trust that her feelings for Sebastian are true, that he’s now hurt her deeply, and that she has no other place to turn. Even if she is working with him, it won’t matter for long.

We reach the disturbance, where Silas and a brute of a man are fighting in the middle of the gathered crowd. Silas swings at him; the man ducks. Fallon attempts to get between them, but they pay her no attention as they continue to fight. Silas lands a punch.

Fallon jumps on a makeshift platform and yells, “Enough!”

The two finally break apart, and two other men pull Silas and the guy toward the front of the crowd.

How can we fight a war when we’re near destroying ourselves?

Fallon presses the loose strands of hair back toward her bun. Then she looks out over the Rebels and citizens. “How long do you think we have before the Force and the king’s knights storm this camp?”

Glancing around, I watch as some heads hang low. Others, in the back of the gathered group, slink farther away. Women wrap their arms around their children. These are not fighters. They’re citizens of a lost era, only wishing to live out their lives in peace.

“We don’t have much time to decide on a course of action before that happens,” Fallon continues. She steps to the front of the platform, her small form shaking. “Do you want King Sebastian in power? Do you want to fear his reign every day, questioning whether that day or the next will be your last? He needs to be stopped.”

A woman steps forward, her skin still dirty from the long trek to camp. “I brought my children here to see a father they haven’t laid eyes on in four years.” The crowd murmurs their understanding. “He’s sacrificed everything already, and now you ask for his life. How can we trust that the king’s army won’t destroy us all? Once we reveal ourselves, we’re all dead.”

The citizens throw heated words toward Fallon. She doesn’t respond but instead looks directly at me. I raise my brows as she points my way.

“Do you recognize her?” she asks them. Warmth splashes my face as all eyes land on me. “She’s Zara Dane. The princess once betrothed to King Sebastian.” Fallon beckons me to join her on the stage, and I shake my head lightly.

Why me?

Fallon waves me forward once more. I breathe in a shaky breath and step up to her side. “What are you doing?” I whisper.

She leans in close. “Trust me.” Turning back toward the crowd, she says, “Zara was a commoner just like you, and the king elevated her, offering her riches and every convenience the realm has to offer. Yet she is here. She has sacrificed just as much as anyone here, because she knows what has to be done.” She looks to me to say something, but my throat closes up. My mind blanks as I stare out over the crowd, taking in each wary expression.

I quickly pull Fallon to my side and whisper, “Where’s Xander?” Where is her second in command, the once-quiet Rebel who revealed his secret public speaking skills just yesterday?

“He’s busy making his own speeches.” She nods once. “This one’s yours to make.”

I swallow the forming lump, and it scrapes my too-dry throat on its way down. Pushing the sudden nausea down with it, I think of my father—the first to stand against the tyranny of King Hart—and pray for his words to speak through me.

“I fear the monsters of Outside,” I say. “I’ve seen the wasteland and its many horrors, and it scares me.” I curl my hands into fists to stop the trembling. “But Karm has its own monsters.”

Heads nod, and agreement ripples through the air. I suck in a breath. “If we don’t face down all of these monsters—the ones stalking our loved ones as well as the ones in power—then we become monsters in our own right by doing nothing. By allowing the enslavement and killing of innocents to continue. I’ve heard the plans King Sebastian has for his realm, and if he succeeds, we’ll not only lose our lives, but the very thing that makes us human.” I raise my head higher. “Our freedom.”

The Rebels and citizens cheer, and my chest relaxes, but are the citizens moved enough to fight? Fallon’s hand slips into mine, and I glance at her as she looks over the people.

A tension-filled silence settles over the crowd.

I look at the planks in the platform, and a fierce madness rises within me. I squeeze Fallon’s hand, and she grips mine back. I look up. “This is our time to stand against the darkness—of Outside and in. Refuse to live in fear. Take a stand. This is no longer a rebellion.” I breathe in. “It’s our revolution.”

The quiet breaks. Shouts sound out like strikes of lightning, cracking against the forest like a whip. The citizens pump their fists in the air right along with the Rebels.

“Will you hide in fear and hand over your lives willingly?” Fallon shouts. “Or will you be the ones to choose your fate?”

My chest blooms with renewed determination as they cheer louder. Purpose sweeps through the camp. I know we may not succeed, but we will take away something Sebastian values more than anything. His power over us.

Once Fallon and Silas have the plan mapped out, the citizens suit up in old armor they’ve scavenged over the years, cast off by the knights. Since they haven’t had the training the Rebels have, they need some kind of protection. It’s the best we can do with so little time. I feel as if I’m in the middle of one of my fantasy books, waiting for a horn to sound and the army to march off toward an open battlefield.

With resolve coursing through my blood, I slide a short-sword into my leather harness. It hangs low on my hip, and its cold metal presses against my thin clothes. I feel empowered.

Never again will I wear the dresses of a princess.

I slip on a pair of black boots and hike them up past my shins to protect against attacks to my legs. Strapping on a leather vest over my black shirt, I prepare for battle.

THIRTY-NINE

Nearly two hundred of us gather behind the castle wall. The women and men who can’t fight are at camp with the children, and all those who can wield weapons stand with us.

Lines are fired over the wall, and their grappling hooks anchor into the crevices in the stonework. A group begins to scale the wall as the flankers make sure we’re not attacked before we enter Court. I know Sebastian, though. He wants us here. He’s called us out and is expecting us. He’ll hold off his Force and army of knights until we’re fully on his turf.

Fallon sidles up beside me as she watches the first group climb. “Xander is in there,” she says, a slight tremble to her voice.

“He’s smart.” I face her. “Sebastian doesn’t suspect Xander. He’ll be all right.”

She smoothes her hair back, a nervous habit of hers.

I squint. “Why did he choose to stay in?” I ask. “After the mission was botched, I mean.”

She shrugs one of her shoulders. “He has his own reasons.” Her eyes look toward the top of the wall as the group clears it. Fallon latches her harness to a rope and then yanks. Planting her feet flat against the wall, she begins her climb. “If we survive this,” she says, looking at me over her shoulder, “I’ll tell you about it.” With a wink, she pulls herself up.

I frown, wondering what Xander’s reasons could be, and if they have anything to do with the orders from Fallon that he questioned. Devlan told me of how Xander came to be a Rebel—how he was Fallon’s first mark, but she disobeyed Micah’s orders and didn’t kill him. I feel like an important piece of that story is missing, though, a piece that only Fallon and Xander know. I hope we survive. I’d love to know Xander’s secret.

“We’ve been spotted, of course,” Devlan says, coming up beside me. “But Sebastian’s holding off his army, waiting for us. He wants a clear view of the carnage, I’m sure.” He rubs his forehead. “Once we’re over the wall, it won’t be long before we’re under full attack. We’ll have only minutes to fight our way to the control room.” His eyes search me, landing on my stomach. “I don’t think—”

I cover his mouth with mine, halting him from telling me, yet again, that I’m in no condition to fight. Before we left the camp, he dressed my wounds, wrapping both my stomach and shoulder securely so they won’t re-open. Nothing will stop me from facing this with Devlan. We’ve been together from the start, and we’ll finish this together.

As his lips caress mine, I pull him closer, knowing that this could be the last time I feel his arms around me, his lips touching mine. All too soon, the kiss ends, and I stare into his pale blue eyes.

“I’m ready,” I say.

He places a kiss on my forehead before he snaps the rope to my harness, attaching an extra belt for added security. “Straight to the castle when you’re over. No looking back.” The cord pulls taut, and I lift off the ground.

Maneuvering my feet one above the other, I climb as the person on the other side of the wall winches me up. Flexing my stomach muscles causes more pain than I’ll admit to Devlan, and sweat beads on my brow. My shoulder throbs, but I don’t look down. I know he’s close behind me, and I focus on clearing the top without thinking about height or pain.

When my limbs start to tremble as I reach the top, I think of getting inside the castle without being killed. It’s less scary than my position at the moment.

I hunker low on top of the wall and sweep my gaze across the Court grounds. Devlan was right. An army awaits us on the field. Damn. There was no use in trying to be stealthy. We should’ve just buzzed the front gate.

The army stands at attention, guarding the castle. The tournament field has been cleared, and the knights cover every inch of it. There are so many of them. A knot twists my stomach.

Crawling to the other side of the wall, I keep low. Bracing my feet against the stone, I push off. The ground comes at me quickly as I drop down. Before I unhook myself from the rope and belt, I glance at the Rebels forming a line, ready to march on the army of knights awaiting us just past the trees.

Devlan drops down beside me and unhooks his harness. “Zara,” he says, a serious tone to his voice. “I meant what I said. If I fall behind, you get inside the castle.” His pale eyes deepen into a stormy gray.

“Devlan, I know what I have to do.” I run my hand along his cheek. “Duty first, right?”

He presses his lips into a firm line. “Right.” Then he rests his forehead on mine and says under his breath, “Let’s go.”

In a heartbeat, we leave the Rebels behind. They are to face off with Sebastian’s army while two teams infiltrate the castle. Silas has joined Fallon as her acting second in command, while Xander works whatever strategy he has from the inside. Devlan and I are team number two. The teams will come in from opposite sides, giving us a better chance that someone will make it to the secret chamber. Hadley and Cecily are back at Mordred, being our eyes.

A glimpse of Sebastian’s bright, golden eyes flickers in my mind, and I pause. Shaking my head, I press on. I can’t doubt the mission now. I risked everything last time, when I believed in him, when I thought the good inside him would overpower Hart’s corruption. But the monster he’s so quickly become only proves we’ve yet to see the worst of his reign.

Sebastian has to be taken out.

If we succeed, there will be no king, no ruler, no dictator. Only, some form of government is needed, or else we’ll be no better than the lawless cannibals earlier governments left in the wake of their destruction.

All this can be settled once we rid the kingdom of its tyrant. Right now, I’m merely praying I make it to see such a debate take place.

As Devlan and I round the field, cloaked behind trees and brush, I seek glimpses of the army of knights to my right. They’re standing so still, like statues. I find that odd, considering they’ve seen the Rebels coming over the wall. They should be readying themselves for the fight.

I look behind me. The Rebels emerge from the treeline. They are lining up in attack formation, but the army holds still.

I halt.

What are they waiting for?

Devlan turns around, his face drawn. “Zara,” he whispers. “What are you—” His words are cut short as his eyes follow mine.

Dread barbs my chest. Squinting, I peer at the knights, trying to see past their helmets and raised visors. The back line is closest to us, and I strain to get a better look. They’re the last row to go into battle and they, too, stand at perfect attention. Only, they’re not all men.

There are women and children, also. Their skin is pallid. Their eyes are sunken, hollowed and lost. This is not an army waiting for the command to go to war. These are people being controlled—waiting to be steered to their deaths.

The Taken.

In the middle of the last row is the face of the man I will never forget, no matter how changed. The reason why I’m here.

My father.

Without a thought, I shift direction and head for the field.

Somewhere behind me I hear Devlan calling my name, but it’s a distant, muted sound. A whoosh rushes in my ears. My heart pounds against my veins as I move through the lines of armored Taken. My head jerks back and forth, my eyes flicking over their still bodies, as I wait for one of them to raise a weapon. But their eyes are unseeing.

Maneuvering through the stiff bodies, I weave my way toward my father. I stop a couple of feet in front of him, my breath panting out in painful bursts from my lungs. “Father?”

Cries sound behind me, and I whip around to see the army of Rebels charging toward the knights.

“No!”

They can’t fight them. This has to be stopped. I spin around. “Father—wake up!” I step toward him and am stopped when his line raises their swords.

A low hum fills the air, then their swords extend with a metallic clank. A blue light snaps with an electric current at the tip of my father’s sword. I look down his staggered line, at the other swords buzzing with white-blue fury.

Stepping around my father’s sword, I grasp his arms and shake him. “Wake up!” But his eyes remain lost. The shouts of the Rebels are getting closer, and the Taken raise their feet and stomp down hard with a thunderous boom that echoes through the field.

They march.

I’m knocked to the side as my father moves forward with the armor-clad army.

I hear the clash of bodies at the front of the line before I see it. The bodies merge together on the field and the battle rages.

Devlan grabs my hand, pulls me out, and then wraps his arms around me. His breathing is labored, as if it’s everything he can do to hold me while stopping himself from joining the fray and searching for his parents.

I melt against him, my body trembling. “He’s here,” I whimper, but my voice is lost in the chaos. “That sick bastard brought him here.”

Once we’re on the sidelines, Devlan takes deep breaths. “He’s having us fight against our own families.” He reaches into his vest and pulls out his communicator. “Fallon,” he shouts into the device. There’s no response. “Fallon!”

His voice is just distant noise as my mind churns, processing the madness behind this scheme. If the Rebels win, Sebastian has lost nothing. His knights will still stand strong, enforcing Karm’s order. And once the Taken deplete our numbers, the knights will move in to take out the rest. It doesn’t matter how many Sebastian loses, he’ll simply replace the Taken with more citizens.

But if we win…

How will we go on, knowing what we’ve done? That we’ve killed our brothers and sisters, our mothers and fathers? And if the Rebels realize it during the fight, confusion and panic will surely make them drop their weapons. If my father attacked me, I couldn’t kill him. No matter what he did, I could not.

“Fallon, call them back. Now!” Devlan’s panicked voice brings me back. He bangs the communicator against his hand. “Shit—” He turns toward me. “Our frequency has been deactivated inside Court.”

“We have to stop them!”

He scrubs his hand down his face. “I know, Zara. We’re going to.”

Turning toward the field, I watch as the Taken cleave their swords through the air, the low hum bouncing off the wooded area. Their weapons glow…they glow. A blast fires from the tips, sending beams blazing across the field.

“What the hell…?” Devlan says.

I suck air into my lungs. “Hart,” I say, as if it’s answer enough. And it is. He was the lead scientist of a department that focused on warfare. All this time, he’s had weapons that far outmatch the primitive swords his knights carry, that outmatch even the V-Batons.

Rage burns through me. He’s had the means to fight those Outside all this time, yet chose to enslave people so he could build a kingdom for himself.

“We can’t stop them right now.” Devlan’s shoulders tense as he grips his sword hilt. “We have to get to Excalibur.”

I’m torn between running back onto the field and dragging my father away by force—whether he slices me open with his powerful sword or not—and finding Sebastian and ripping his heart out. I bury my head in my hands for a moment until blasts from the field cause me to jerk and look up.

Cries from the Rebels sound over the battlefield. A violent shudder rocks my body, and Devlan’s hand grabs mine. He forces me to leave.

FORTY

As we reach the lower levels of the castle, Devlan swings his arm out. “Wait.” He turns his head, scanning the perimeter. “Something’s off.”

“Yes, Devlan,” I grind out. “Everything is off. Sebastian has us fighting against innocent people. Against our families.” I fight back the fiery tears that want to fall. “We have to make Sebastian free them—release them from the mind control before they slaughter—”

“We will.” Devlan turns on me and grips my arms. “We will, Zara,” he says more forcefully. “But where are the knights?”

I look around the inner hall, trying to think past the scene on the battlefield. He’s right. The knights should be here, guarding the castle and readying reinforcements to go into battle.

“They might be out ridding the realm of monsters.” I search his face, pale and creased with apprehension. My hopeful words feel false even to me. “But Sebastian is not concerned for the citizens’ safety when he’s called his enemy to his door.”

“No,” Devlan says, turning and scanning the castle. “He’s not concerned about that at all.”

“What are you two waiting for?” someone says from behind us.

I turn, sword raised.

“Whoa. And here I thought we were friends.” A small smile quirks Xander’s lips.

“Xander.” Devlan steps up to him. “Where have you been?”

“Our fearless leader is a bad influence on me.” Xander holds out a handful of empty vials. Then his eyes turn serious as he looks over the field. “What’s happening? Where’s Fallon?”

How has Xander been here and not known about the Taken? Devlan asks before I can. “Don’t you know?”

Xander’s face pinches with anxiety. “Know what? I’ve been locked up.”

“Why?” Devlan asks.

“I blew my cover…it’s a long story. I only just escaped in time to—” Xander shakes his head. “Where’s Fallon?!”

“Here,” Fallon calls. She and Silas run toward us from the opposite wing. Throwing her arms around Xander, she says, “I should’ve ordered you to stay put.”

His hands rub her arms, relief washing over his face.

Fallon pulls away, taking the vials from his hand. “Did it work?”

“Yes. And it was no easy feat. I had to spike the drinking water. But I learned from the best.” He winks at her. “They’re asleep on the front castle grounds, dreaming of fine maidens.”

I’m obviously missing some secret between them, but there’s no time to question it. I step up to them. “Did what work?”

“Xander drugged the knights,” Fallon says. “It’s part of the reason he came back.” She glances at him, and something unsaid passes between them. “But I’m sorry, Zara. I had no idea about—” She breaks off.

Xander moves toward the open arch and watches the white-blue currents bloom over the field. “The Taken.”

Fallon nods, her eyes cast at the ground. “Hadley and Cecily alerted me only moments before the Rebels attacked, but it was too late. The Outside monitors were set on a loop, to look like the Taken were in Morgana. Our transmission died as Silas and I got inside Court. I couldn’t stop the battle once the Taken engaged us.”

“We can only make Sebastian order them to stand down at this point.” Devlan glances over my shoulder. “If we even have enough time to save them.”

I see my father’s pale face in my mind. “Let’s find His Highness,” I say, and turn to leave. Only Xander’s words halt my retreat.

“The Force is guarding Sebastian,” he says. “They’re waiting for us.”

Devlan draws his sword. “Then let’s not keep them waiting much longer.”

Fallon and Xander both ready their weapons, and I grip the hilt of my sword tighter, wishing I had my father’s dagger. I glance once more at the battlefield. Rebels are losing their lives, some probably at the hands of the people they love. The bloodshed must end. I’ll get my father’s dagger back. And my father.

The four of us head deeper into the castle, and before we reach the main hall, the fight is upon us. Knights of the Force attack from all sides. I turn and lock swords with one as he comes from behind me.

Adrenaline spikes my blood, and a scream rips from my throat as my sword meets his, forcing him backward. Another knight takes up a position at his side, and I retreat.

“Here.” Devlan tosses me a dagger. I catch it just in time to block another blow from the second knight.

Devlan downs a knight and moves to my side. We’re surrounded, but one of us has to get to Sebastian and end the battle before too many are lost.

“Devlan. Go,” I shout.

His expression is torn as he looks between the hallway leading to the secret lift and me, fighting the two knights.

“Duty first.” I force as much conviction into my unsteady voice as possible.

He plunges his sword into a knight’s chest, then nods at me once before racing down the corridor. I release a relieved breath but don’t have time to imagine him finally facing Sebastian—and not throwing the fight—as one of the knights clips my shoulder.

Dammit. Are they all trained to strike there?

My shoulder blazes with pain. Infuriated, I knock his sword to the side, forcing him to expose his center, and run him through. The other knight sees an opening while I’m occupied and aims for my arm. I twist my sword, still in the first knight’s chest, and block the blow. Then I yank my sword free and attack him full on.

I’ve seen this knight before. I remember him from my betrothal ceremony and from the tournament. For a moment, I wonder if his family is out on the battlefield—if he’s been given a choice in his actions. But as his blade nearly clips me, I force all distracting thoughts aside.

Right now, he’s my enemy, and only one of us will walk away. I swing and sever the hand holding his sword. He drops to his knees. A cry tears from his mouth. I turn away, ready to leave him and go help my allies, but he picks up his sword with the other hand and slashes my thigh.

I crumple to the ground. As I press my hand over the wound, he stands. Before he can deliver another blow, I roll, throw my dagger at him, and grab my sword. He dodges my dagger and stumbles back before coming at me again. I duck as he swipes at my head and then raise up, impaling him in the stomach. He folds, and I shakily get to my feet. I bring my sword up and slice him across the neck. Thick red blood drips to the floor. He smears it along the stone as he lands.

I study the puddle.

“Zara.” Fallon’s voice jolts me out of my daze.

I whip my head toward her. She slashes a knight across the chest, and he drops to the floor. “Go with Devlan. We’ve got this. Stop the Taken.”

My chest rises as I take in a steadying breath. I nod, then shuffle over to the slain knight. I tear off a piece of his uniform and use it to pick up his hand. As I limp down the corridor, I’m not sure if she really feels Devlan needs my help, or if she wants me out of the way. I’m having a difficult time walking, never mind fighting.

I decide I don’t care. Devlan is up there with his sworn enemy. So far, Sebastian has proven to be just as sadistic, if not more so, than the man who raised him. I don’t know what other sick tricks might await us if we don’t end him soon.

Holding my sword ready, I head down the corridor toward the secret lift. The severed hand drips red along the hallway as I go.

FORTY-ONE

When the metal doors of the lift open, I hesitate a moment before stepping into the transparent room. Devlan didn’t need a way to gain access to the chamber. Sebastian wanted him here.

“Zara—” Devlan shouts.

I exit the lift and rush into the room. Devlan is blocking blows from two knights at once. I start toward his side, but he jerks his head toward the end of the glass chamber. “Sebastian is down there.” He lunges at a knight in crimson, knocking the knight’s sword to the side. “He’s controlling the Taken from Excalibur.” He grunts. “I can’t get in.”

I understand what I must do, but it’s difficult to leave him here to fight. They’re not just members of the Force. These knights were King Hart’s personal guards. They are ruthless.

Devlan swipes at the guard advancing on me, drawing his attention. I slink past, then stagger down through the glass maze. Sebastian has locked himself in the control room, overseeing the fight with the Rebels personally. His actions prove this has gone beyond revenge for him.

I limp toward the end of the chamber, trying to block out the sounds of distress coming from Devlan. As I reach the control room, I pray the knight’s hand will give me access, and that I will not waver, even for a second.

I extend my arm—and the door slides open before I press the hand to the interface.

Sebastian’s golden eyes meet mine. His lips curl into a cruel smile.

I drop the hand to the floor and raise my sword. “Command the Taken to stand down.” I hold his disarming glare. “Now.”

My eyes sweep over him. Tucked into his black belt is my father’s dagger. My chest blooms with renewed anger. Sebastian pulls his hand from behind his back and strikes my sword with his arming sword.

I wobble, then shift my weight onto my good leg, gaining balance against his attack. He blocks my strike easily. “I had no idea you knew the art of swordplay,” he says. “To think we had so much in common, Zara.” He strikes my sword again, pushing me backward into a retreat. “We could have been dueling instead of taking boring walks.”

Grunting, I come at him and slash. He keeps one hand behind his back as he blocks each of my attacks, mocking me. His form says I’m no threat to him. And I’m not sure I am.

His blade slides against mine. “I think I’ll enjoy this even more than facing off with Devlan. Though I wish we had more privacy.” He cuts his eyes toward the front of the chamber. “We do have unfinished business.”

“You’re sick. I’ll never be with you.” I block his blow as it comes at my chest.

He mock-sighs. “That’s the thing, my love.” His sword grazes my injured leg, and I stumble back. “You’re not going to have a choice.” He leers, raising his sword as I hold a defensive stance. “My father perfected the Virus serum before his death. There’s no waiting for it to mutate. I can have complete control over anyone at any time.”

I shake my head, clearing my vision of loose strands of hair, then step into his attack, sending him backpedalling. “Have you always been this mad?” I shift my weight, relieving the pressure on my leg, and knock his sword down. I lunge, delivering a fierce strike to his arm. “Or did my rejection send you over the edge?”

His eyes blaze a fierce, liquid gold. He lowers his sword and glares. “I admit that I’ve desired you for a long time, and that your games made claiming you all the more amusing.” He grins. “But after I went to the trouble of having your father removed, I wasn’t going to allow Devlan to have you.”

All weapons are forgotten. I drop my guard. My mouth falls open. “You sent my father Outside.”

He inspects his hurt arm quickly, then steps forward. I retreat. “Not intentionally. I thought the king would dispose of him in the Oubliette. When your father became ill with the Virus, I honestly thought it was a stroke of luck, or perfect timing. Though I understand now what happened. And so do you. As I said, my father perfected the Virus. It’s going to advance things Outside much quicker.”

I swallow down the aching lump in my throat. “You bastard.”

His brow shoots up. “Well, nevertheless. I was pleased when you became my betrothed. Though you did shock me with your admission of joining the Rebels.” He laughs, a forced, hollow sound. “I was notably thrown. I felt some time in the Oubliette would cure you, and that you’d come to your senses and see that what I was trying to accomplish here—with us—was something great.” He spreads his arms wide. “Now, I’d prefer you to agree willingly. I really don’t want to use the new strain of Virus on you.”

“Never, Sebastian.” I force myself to stand straight against the pain of my injuries. “We didn’t come this far only to allow you to replace your father. I’ll never let you leave here.”

“My father.” He bows his head a moment before looking into my eyes. “I was stricken at first. But really, I should thank you. He was never going to allow me to assume full control over the realm. He held me back, dissuading me from many things. Now, there’s nothing standing in my way.” His eyes stare through me.

I don’t know why his admission shocks me. It shouldn’t, as I can plainly see what he’s become. But the thought that I helped put him in position to rule over Karm hits my gut like a punch.

He cocks his head. “What’s the matter, princess?” He circles me, and I keep my sword ready. “Don’t you still believe in me?”

“I truly did…once.” I hold his eyes for a second before looking past him, seeing the battle between the Taken and the Rebels clearly through the glass walls. Somehow, the Rebels are holding them off. If they’re keeping strong, then I have to forge ahead. “But you will not take me, Sebastian.” I roll to the balls of my feet, readying for an attack. “I’d rather rot in the Oubliette or die right here and now than become enslaved to you.”

His eyes pierce mine. “Still so fucking stubborn.” He strikes my sword hard, and I’m shoved backward. As he pivots to one side, I brace myself for another attack, but he pulls his sword and kicks my injured leg instead.

Pain spears me, and I’m thrown off-guard as he moves in. He drops his sword and grabs my arms.

I struggle against his hold, but he slams my back into the wall. A breath whooshes from my lungs, and my sword hits the floor. He kicks it to the other side of the room. I bring my knee up, but his leg blocks me.

“No,” he growls. “I refuse to let you off easy by using the Virus.” His eyes flick over me. “I’ll just have to break you.”

He backhands me and my head snaps to the side. Blinding pain splinters through my skull. My sight flashes and dims. I turn my head, ready to fight him off, but he crushes his fist to my cheek. I fall to the floor, my vision swimming.

My ears ring, but I can hear footsteps enter the room.

My eyes lock onto Devlan. Fury burns in his gaze as he steps up to Sebastian, sword raised. “I’m going to remove your limbs, then slice you piece by piece, until your bleeding heart is severed from your body.” He spits. Blood trails his lips.

I inch my way toward a corner and prop myself up. Sebastian picks up his sword and widens his stance into an attack position. “This time, friend, don’t throw the fight.” He lunges at Devlan.

Devlan blocks easily. “I won’t.” He knocks Sebastian’s sword down and nicks his forearm, then comes at him again.

Their blades clang as they step forward and backward. It’s nothing like the duel they fought during the tournament. There’re no regulators on the sidelines calling points for blows. Sebastian’s sword slices down Devlan’s arm, drawing a thick seam of blood. Devlan cuts Sebastian across the chest, sending him windmilling backward.

When the faintness in my head finally clears, I begin to scoot across the room, slowly making my way to the control room. Devlan has Sebastian’s attention, and Sebastian’s back is to me. I get to my feet as Devlan pierces Sebastian’s arm with the tip of his blade.

I’m nearly to the control room, just feet from the fighting, when Sebastian shouts and jabs his sword into

Devlan’s chest.

“No!” I cry.

Devlan stumbles, but quickly rights himself and advances. He clips Sebastian across the face, and a wide gash fills with red along Sebastian’s cheek. Then Devlan knocks Sebastian’s sword out of his hand.

Holding his blade to Sebastian’s throat, Devlan demands, “How do we stop the Taken from attacking?”

Sebastian presses a hand to the gash on his face. “You bastard.”

“How?” Devlan shouts.

“Pull the lever to lower the voltage on Excalibur.” His eyes travel between Devlan and me. Blood seeps between his fingers. “With no juice, they’re just empty vessels.”

I step toward the open door to the control room, but before I reach it I see Devlan grip his chest and fall to his knees.

Oh, God.

I move toward Devlan, but Sebastian moves quicker and yanks me into his arms, enclosing me. He presses me against his chest, holding a knife to my throat.

Devlan’s eyes find mine, and I hold his gaze. “Power it down,” I tell him, forcing my voice to hold steady. “Get to your feet, Devlan. Power down the mainframe. They have to be stopped. Now.” I gasp as Sebastian slides the blade against my skin, drawing blood.

Devlan climbs to his feet. “Let her go.”

Sebastian breathes heavily against my ear. “There’s a syringe in the control room.” He presses the blade to my throat. “Inject yourself first, then I’ll let her go.”

I widen my eyes at Devlan, imploring him to pull the lever. He’s right there, so close to it. “Devlan,” I breathe his name. “Do what’s right. Duty first.”

His eyes close, and he takes two deep breaths, his hand pressing his chest. When his eyes open, their pale blue shimmers as they find my gaze. “I love you,” he says. “I choose you, Zara.” Then he steps inside the control room and grabs the syringe.

My heart stops.

He raises the needle to his arm, ready to inject the new strain of Virus—to allow Sebastian to control him.

He’s chosen me over the mission.

But I choose us.

I press my back into Sebastian’s chest, feigning weakness, and his body molds to mine. He holds me closer, as if he’s enjoying my suffering. While his attention is on Devlan, I snake my arm behind me and grab my father’s dagger from his belt.

I jab the blade into his thigh. With a cry, he releases me. I start toward Devlan, but Sebastian grabs a handful of my hair, jerking me backward. I scream and yank free, and the sound of hair tearing from my scalp fills my ears. I turn and face him, then drive the blade into his heart.

His eyes widen, and his lips move, silently questioning. He sputters out a strangled breath before he covers my hands with his. I hold onto the hilt with both hands, forcing the blade deeper. His blood spills over my skin. His eyes lock onto mine; their golden light dims.

I step back as he plummets to the ground, his hands now grasping the dagger. My eyes hold his a moment longer, making sure he’s gone. Devlan’s arms encircle me, and I fall into his embrace. We sink to the floor.

FORTY-TWO

I rest my forehead against Devlan’s and press my hands over his wound, trying to staunch the blood. It’s higher up on his chest than I thought—just below his collar bone. I lift up and look into his eyes. “Hold strong,” I say, then get to my feet.

I stumble into the control room and slam the lever down.

Pressing my hands against the glass wall, I hold my breath. Almost immediately, the Taken drop their weapons. They stand still—still as death. The Rebels that have survived glance around the field, confused. Then cries sound over the battlefield, penetrating the thick walls of the chamber, and they raise their weapons into the air. I watch as they wrap their arms around the Taken, hugging their long-lost family and friends.

I take in a shaky breath, then a laugh tumbles from my mouth. I’m delirious, exhausted, beaten, and shaken, but the sight on the field fills me with so much elation that I nearly fall over.

“Oh, my God,” a voice says from inside the chamber. I turn and see Fallon leaning over Devlan.

My joyous mood vanishes. I limp over to Devlan and fall beside his splayed body. I run my hands through his hair, pleading for him to open his eyes.

When he doesn’t, I choke out a sob. I press my hand to his wound, bury my head between his neck and shoulder. Fallon is quiet beside me. I forget she’s there.

I rise up, hovering above him, and stare down. Then I brush my hand over his pale face. “You just admitted that you love me,” I whisper, barely audible, as my chest crushes my heart like a vise. “You’re not getting out of that.”

His chest rises, and a shallow breath escapes his mouth. Hope fills me, and I release a sob with a hiccup. It burns my throat. His lips curl into his beautiful smile, and I laugh with relief.

“I’m forever at your service.” Devlan reaches for my hand and threads his fingers through mine. “If you demand I live, I have no choice but to obey.”

I gasp in a breath and press my lips to his, taking in the feel of his smile forming against my mouth. My heart trembles in my chest. I’m afraid to move, scared he’ll slip away.

“I’ll find help,” I tell him and try to stand.

He grips my hand tighter, keeping me by his side. “He missed,” Devlan says. “Well, he missed the important stuff. But I’ve lost some blood. I’ll need mending.”

I smile down at him. “I think I can handle that.”

Fallon and I dress Devlan’s wound, wrapping his chest and shoulder tightly with bandages Fallon found in the back medical chamber.

When Fallon’s ready to help him stand, she halts mid-lift. Her face pinches, and I follow her gaze to where Xander stands, motionless. His expression steals the air from my lungs. He slowly walks toward Sebastian, his mouth a hard line, and lowers himself beside the fallen king.

I watch, confused, as Xander lifts Sebastian into his arms and cradles the body against his. Fallon crawls toward them and lays her hand on Xander’s shoulder.

“You tried, Xander.”

He nods. “I did. I tried so hard to get through to him,” he says. “For weeks, I spent time with him, trying to get closer. I thought telling him the truth would change things.” He closes his eyes and releases a heavy breath. “But he feared I’d try to steal his power—his crown.”

“But he let you leave,” Fallon says. “He let you live. He must have cared, deep down.”

“No.” Xander shakes his head. “He locked me up. I only escaped in time to slip the potion to the knights.” His lips quiver, and he looks up at Devlan and me. “We met up in the lower level right after.” He turns his full attention back to Fallon. I can’t piece his story together, but I don’t interrupt. “I thought I could try again—that I might get through to him.”

I look to Devlan for an explanation, but his eyes reflect the confusion inside me.

“It’s the way it’s meant to be.” Fallon removes Sebastian’s crown from his head and, rising up, places it atop Xander’s.

My mouth drops open. Devlan attempts to sit up, and I move so he can rest against my chest. Fallon kisses Xander tenderly. Glancing once to Sebastian, she gets to her feet, bringing Xander with her.

“I vow to follow you, my lord,” she says. “Let the reign of Xander Hart begin.” She drops to one knee and bows her head.

“What…?” Devlan chokes out.

Fallon glances at us. “Xander is Sebastian’s brother. The crown now belongs to him.”

Suddenly, pieces of that puzzle fall into place. Why Fallon kept Xander’s mission at the castle a secret. Why she first insisted Sebastian was not to be harmed during the mission. Xander’s hesitancy to follow Fallon’s orders—orders that must have concerned him becoming the king. Why Xander came back to Court alone. Why Fallon couldn’t kill her mark—Xander—the night of my betrothal ceremony. And why, now, Xander mourns the loss of Sebastian.

His brother.

I look at Devlan, and he nods weakly. Helping him to a knee, I kneel beside him. “I pledge my allegiance to King Xander Hart,” I say.

Devlan laughs once, and then coughs. “Sorry.” He clears his throat and presses his hand to his bandaged chest. “I, too, pledge my allegiance.” He shakes his head. “Were you ever going to tell me?”

Xander’s face flushes. “I was hoping I wouldn’t have to.” His eyes pinch. “But as my fearless leader—”

Fallon waggles her finger at him. “I follow you now, Your Highness.”

Xander glares at her. “As Fallon once said to me”—his eyes roam her face—“I cannot deny my birthright forever. I have a responsibility to this realm, to give back what has been taken from them.”

She wraps her arms around him, and I hold Devlan closer. My eyes drift to Sebastian.

Out of so much evil, Karm finally has a chance for true greatness.

Devlan caresses my cheek. His eyes search mine. “You got your wish.”

I crane an eyebrow. “And, that is?”

A perfect smile curls his lips. “I can never call you princess again.”

EPILOGUE

That day on the battlefield, after we administered the antidote to the Taken, I held my father in my arms for

the first time since he was stolen from me. Though there was death all around us, I clung to him and focused on the future.

Putting that day behind us was just one step toward our goal of a new world.

Most of the newly Taken regained their full memories, but Devlan works daily with his parents to help them with what seems lost. We’re still studying the long-term effects of the Virus, but I have faith that, in time, we’ll discover how to bring everyone back fully.

Xander officially assumed the throne, providing evidence of his birthright through a letter left behind by his mother, and then, through his mother herself. A Taken restored to her rightful mind, she confessed Xander to be the second-born son to King Hart, Sebastian’s half-brother. She was pregnant when she went into hiding after the Rebel leader—my father—freed her from the Oubliette. A story all of its own that I plan to hear fully from my father sometime soon.

It’s still hard to imagine how all our lives were linked together. How, at times, it seems as if we were meant to find each other. There’s more to the history of the Rebels, my family, and King Hart. I know this, and one day, maybe all those secrets will be revealed.

King Xander reigns over Karm not as a ruler, but as a servant to his crown, restoring the realm to true greatness. I never imagined that Xander could be so strong…or that Fallon would willingly wear a dress. But they soon married, and she, by his side as his queen, gives him strength to lead with firm assurance. Xander has even taken my father, the admitted first Rebel leader, into his confidence, where my father explains the laws of old about republics, freedom of speech, and democracy.

Slowly, Xander is blending the old with the new, incorporating into the kingdom ways of the past that had worked for our ancestors, and creating a realm such as the world has never known.

When the rest of the Taken were brought back into Karm, and Excalibur was shut down permanently, we started over. I admit that I miss the heated water and electric devices that made our lives simpler. However, if we’re to truly build a new world, and help heal the one damaged by our ancestors, we must learn to give back to Earth—not take from it.

The knights pledged their service to Xander, and soon a wall, not a barrier, was constructed around Karm. We use Hart’s weapons to beat back the monsters and cannibals, staking our rightful claim on the planet. And every week we venture out a little farther into the Outside, discovering new things about the world hidden from us for so long.

Devlan and I served Xander in the guard for a time, helping to construct the wall and fighting against the

darkness of Outside to cleanse the threat to our existence. When we were confident things had fallen into a steady rhythm, though, we devised our own project. We still visit the castle, and Fallon and I have become close friends. Xander, Devlan, and my father hunt the beasts together and talk of ways to build a movie house to show the old reels the Rebels had hidden away. But that is where my time at the castle ends. I want to venture beyond Karm.

I was never content to stare at walls.

“Faster!” I squeeze Sterlyn’s sides as we bound over the dark world. “Come on, girl. You can do it.”

Devlan and Fireblood are coming up on us, gaining ground. I glance behind me. “Oh, no you don’t,” I say under my breath, and send Sterlyn into a full gallop, taking the lead.

The monster races ahead of me. I’m down by one to Devlan. He’s killed two this month, and I refuse to let him win again. I kick my horse’s sides, urging her to go faster. The cat—monster cat—turns on me quickly, claws extended, and I pull Sterlyn to a halt. I take out my sword and fire off a series of blasts. The cat falls.

I dismount and walk up to it. Devlan circles me on Fireblood. “Dammit,” he pants out. “I swear you’re feeding your horse genetically-enhanced food.”

I cock an eyebrow at him. “Don’t be a sore loser,” I say. “You know I’m just too cool for you.”

He laughs. I love that word. Cool. I heard it in one of the movies Fallon showed me. I walk up to the monster cat and kick its side. “Two for me. You’re slacking, Devlan.”

He nods, but then his face sobers. “Down.”

I drop as he blasts something over my head. Turning, I see a cannibal crawling over the rocks. He wears tattered clothing—rags, actually—and his teeth are sharp. I’m not sure if the cannibals are born this way, or if they do this to themselves, but it doesn’t matter. Their pointy teeth hurt like a bitch when they sink into you.

Devlan slides off his horse and stalks toward the rock. The cannibal crawls to the other side, his teeth bared, and stands. His large black eyes—no whites—stare at Devlan, sizing him up.

His hair is matted, and it hangs in thick coils around his gray skin. I can smell his stench from here, and I cover my nose and mouth. Devlan raises his weapon and the cannibal doesn’t even flinch. Then the cannibal growls, a high-pitched shrilling that makes my skin prickle, and hurls himself into the air.

Devlan fires a round of white blasts into the air, hitting the cannibal. He falls to the earth. He jerks a couple of times before he dies. Tendrils of smoke curl off his body.

Shaking his head, Devlan walks up to the cannibal. He releases another round of blasts from his sword into the thing. I stand and wrap my arms around my stomach. “That’s the second one that came alone.” I glance around. “That’s not like them.”

He sheaths his sword and faces me. “They’re scouting,” he says. “But at least we’ve pushed them back this far. I just wonder what their twisted minds are thinking.” He walks over to me and takes my hand. “Do you have it?”

“Oh. Yes.” I take out the wrapped seed from my pocket.

We grab the reins of our horses and head toward the large boulders. My hand reaches for the locket around my neck, and I rub the cool silver.

Along with Madity’s necklace, I still wear my commitment gift from Sebastian. Devlan only asked me about it once, right after we buried the former prince of Karm beside his father near the Outside compound. I grasped it in my palm, stared down at the newly made grave, and explained that it’s a reminder. That even the best of intentions can be lost if you allow this world to corrupt you.

And privately, for me, the lock of hair inside is a reminder of the boy who had visions and dreams, of who Sebastian was and could’ve been.

I smile, looking at our baby behind the boulder. Luckily, the cannibal didn’t have time to ruin anything.

“It’s grown.” I squat down and hold out the wrapped seed. “Where should I place this?”

Devlan balances on the balls of his feet near me, running his finger along the green leaves of our tiny apple tree. “About six feet away,” he says. “Let’s keep them close so they can have company.” He gives me his gorgeous smile.

I scoop out the dry dirt, about six inches deep, then open my canteen and wet the earth. Placing the seed in the hole, I look up into Devlan’s blue eyes. He helps me fill in the hole, his hand resting on top of mine after I pack the dirt tightly. I lace my fingers through his, and the mix of cool earth and his warmth sends shivers along my skin.

Maybe one day we’ll ride out here and the dirt will have a fresh patch of grass. Or our trees will thrive, bearing fruit in a barren world. Until then, I’ll savor every moment of hope the world allots me.

And I’ll bask in every unguarded smile Devlan gifts me.

For however long we thrive.

Acknowledgements

Fireblood has been a long time in the making. Sounds like a movie thing, huh? But I kid you not, from the moment this story was a little glimer of a thought, to the time I sent the final round of edits to my editors, the journey in between has been just that. An amazing, at times frustrating, but wonderful journey. And it’s not over yet.

So many people have been a part of this story, and I hope that they all know how much they mean to me. If I’ve left anyone out, it’s not that I forgot (okay, I forgot, but remember how fried my brain was during edits?), it’s that there has been so much love and support from so many people that I just simply can’t keep count anymore. But please know how thankful I am for you all.

First, I have to thank my amazing critique partners, as always. I wouldn’t be a writer today without them. Rachel Harris, Shannon Duffy, Victoria Scott, and Patrice Michelle, thank you for teaching me how to write, how to torment my characters, how to swoon it up, and most of all, for giving me your friendship. Best friends a girl could have.

To my mother, for always being there and for your priceless input on the “hot” scenes. You’re the coolest mom ever, and you’re my rock. To my dad, who has always believed in me no matter what. I’m forever a daddy’s girl. You and Mom are my main support system, and your encouragement and love means everything. I love you.

To my amazing team of beta readers and early readers and cheerleaders. I just don’t know what I’d do without you! Not only did you give me priceless feedback, your enthusiasm in emails and on Twitter got me through the tough times. In no particular order, thank you to Nereyda Gonzalez, Jaime Arnold, Jessica Estep, Nicole Mainardi, Damaris Cardinali, Kayleigh-Marie Gore, Lindsay Mead, Pavan Hansra, Julie Brazeal, Valerie Fink, Brenda Drake, Kelsey Ketch, Tiffany King, Ashley The Bookish Brunette, and Amber Troyer. I have so many more to thank…but just know I appreciate you all!

To the Tuff Girl Legion Street Team. Woots! Girl power FTW. You are the best. You’re unstoppable. And you rock. Thank you for your support and your praise, and for just being the best street team ever. And to all the amazing, supportive YA book bloggers! You guys make crazy cool things happen. I’m honored to be a part of your community.

To the girls of YA Bound. You ladies are some of the most talented authors and bloggers I’ve had the privilege of working with, as well as swooning with. Thank you for your support, Tara Fuller, Rachel Harris, Eileen Li, Nereyda Gonzalez, and Kelly Hashway.

To Lauren Hammond, for your unflappable faith in my writing and stories, and for finding Fireblood a wonderful home. You loved Fireblood from the start. Thank you.

To Wendy Higgins, for saying “yes” and making me squee. Hearing how much you enjoyed this story and loved the characters rocked my world, and I can’t thank you enough for doing the cover blurb. Heart you so hard.

To my very talented and wonderful and ass-kicking editorial team—Patricia Riley, Danielle Ellison, Trisha Wooldridge, Sunder Cameron Addams, and Rich Storrs. You know you can’t go wrong with so many cool “Trishas” in the mix. Thank you for helping me shape this story into something readable and that I could be proud of.

And to the whole Spencer Hill Press family, but especially Kate Kaynak, for taking a chance on me and my work. Your belief in this story astonishes me. Thank you for everything. To my publicist, Tara Turner, for kicking it with me and getting the word out.

Thank you to my husband who puts up with my late-night writing sessions, missing showers for days on end, and for loving me so much despite my headache-inducing career choice. My son tolerates a lot of neuroticism from me, also. So thanks, Blue, for only slightly ducking your head when we walk into a store and your mom’s got dried, crusty milkshake in her hair. My guys are the best.

To Claudia McKinney of Phatpuppy Art, thank you for creating the gorgeous, breathtaking, beyond-my-wildestdreams cover art. Working with you was purely epic. You took my ideas and the images in my head and made them a beautiful reality. The setting and the characters are vividly displayed for readers because of your talent and skills. You amaze me.

To Teresa Yeh of Teresa Yeh Photography, thank you for organizing and shooting the cover photo. You are simply amazing. I think you were just as excited as I was about this shoot, and being able to share this experience with you made it all the more memorable. Your enthusiasm is infectious. Thank you for finding the models (they are perfect!) and putting together the shoot. You blew me away.

To Stephanie Mooney of Mooney Designs, thank you for designing a beautiful, stunning cover that exceeded my expectations. You’re beyond talented, and you took my vision and made a masterpiece. The font work is striking, and fits the story perfectly, as does the whole feel of the cover. Thank you.

To the cover models, Emily Burns and Jesse Colton (you guys are hot!), thank you for dedicating so much time to learning about Zara and Devlan, and for rocking the shoot. I wish I could’ve been there, but being able to see the photos and how much fun everyone had was awesome. You both are so talented, and make the perfect dynamic couple that is Zara and Devlan on the cover.

Thank you to Veronica Bailey of Storied Threads. I was amazed (amazed!) by your vision for the costumes. Thank you for designing the wardrobes for the cover shoot. Your quick work and knowledge of weaponry added so much to the outcome that is this gorgeous cover.

To Joanna Petit-Frere for doing the makeup for the shoot, and to Nancy V. Brown of NV My Hair for styling the models’ hair (I saw those extensions, wow!). And to Josh, the photo assistant, thank you for all your hard work.

The whole cover team deserves nothing but my humblest and warmest thanks. You made my vision come true.

To my readers. There are no words powerful enough to express how grateful I am to have such a loyal fan base. Because of you, I get to live my dream of being an author. Thank you for your praise and encouragement, and for rocking so hard it isn’t even funny. The biggest hugs to you all!

I owe everything to God. Thank you for everything.

About the Author

From an early age, Trisha Wolfe dreamed up fantasy worlds and characters and was accused of talking to herself. Today, she lives in South Carolina with her family and writes fulltime, using her fantasy worlds as an excuse to continue talking to herself. For more information on Trisha Wolfe and her works, please visit: www.TrishaWolfe.com

Content

Fireblood
Fireblood - 1
by
Trisha Wolfe

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

SEVENTEEN

EIGHTEEN

NINETEEN

TWENTY

TWENTY-ONE

TWENTY-TWO

TWENTY-THREE

TWENTY-FOUR

TWENTY-FIVE

TWENTY-SIX

TWENTY-SEVEN

TWENTY-EIGHT

TWENTY-NINE

THIRTY

THIRTY-ONE

THIRTY-TWO

THIRTY-THREE

THIRTY-FOUR

THIRTY-FIVE

THIRTY-SIX

THIRTY-SEVEN

THIRTY-EIGHT

THIRTY-NINE

FORTY

FORTY-ONE

FORTY-TWO

EPILOGUE

Acknowledgements

About the Author