Fireblood

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.”