Fireblood

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.