Fireblood

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.”