Fireblood

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.