Fireblood

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.