Fireblood

Fireblood

Trisha Wolfe

S
PENCER
H
ILL
P
RESS

Copyright © 2013 by Trisha Wolfe

Sale of the paperback edition of this book without its cover is unauthorized.

Spencer Hill Press

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. Contact: Spencer Hill Press, PO Box 247, Contoocook, NH 03229, USA Please visit our website at
www.spencerhillpress.com

First Edition: December 2013.

Trisha Wolfe
Fireblood: a novel / by Trisha Wolfe – 1st ed.
p. cm.
Summary:
Teenage girl must choose between a prince and a rising rebellion to save a kingdom.

The authors acknowledge the copyrighted or trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this fiction:
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Cover design by Stephanie Mooney of Mooney Designs
Cover Art by Claudia of Phatpuppy Art
Interior layout by Marie Romero

ISBN 978-1-937053-59-8 (paperback)
ISBN 978-1-937053-60-4 (e-book)

Printed in the United States of America

For my family, and for my readers,
because without you, none of this would be possible.
Every word I write is for you.

ONE

B
asket hooked on one arm, I browse the fruit display of a vendor’s stand in Town Square, trying to ignore the white towers of Castle Karm just past the rolling hills of the gated royal village. It’s become a constant presence in my weekly errands. An affecting reminder, a monstrosity to be feared and obeyed, even more so than the knights of the Force patrolling the cobbled roadways.

The day is overcast, and the faint blue lines of the sky are distinct, contrasting against the dark clouds. The grid veils the market in a blue-gray hue. The rows of apples are a sea of bright blue stars, their glassy skins reflecting the dome’s gleam.

A chill prickles my skin, and the hairs on the back of my neck lift up.

I’m being watched
.

“Pick one and let’s move on, Zara,” Hadley says, talking over the creaking wheels of carriages and shouts from bidding customers. She wipes the moisture of the humid day from her forehead, her dark skin strikingly beautiful against her olive tunic. “We don’t have time for your daydreaming today. You may care nothing for the king’s transmission, but I’d like to be home in time for this one.”

Nodding to the fruit vendor, I smile and move past the stand. When we’re a distance away from the crowded shops lining the main street, I glance over my shoulder. Two members of the Force linger near the vendor. Fear needles my chest.

“I don’t have a monitor to watch the transmission,” I remind Hadley.

She nods once, and her dark braid bobs along her shoulder. She points to the screen hanging above the podium in the middle of Town Square. “We can stay longer and watch it here.” A knowing smile tugs up her lips.

“You know I can’t.” Defeated, I move closer to her ear, while peeking at the knights in crimson and black. “And
you
shouldn’t care for the transmission either, Hadley.”

“Aha,” she says. “I knew it had nothing to do with your father’s reluctance to watch them. You simply don’t want to get your expectations up.”

Pressing my lips together, I take in her hopeful expression, and say cautiously, “I don’t think you’ve truly considered what it would mean to become a member of the royal family.”

Her brown eyes widen, and her thin mouth parts. “Careful with your words.” She glances around before the excitement returns to her voice. “Honestly, Zara. You cannot tell me you don’t wish for Prince Sebastian to choose you.” Her eyebrows arch. “Every maiden in Karm is vying to become his betrothed. Your humble act doesn’t fool me.”

The feeling of being watched bears down on me, and I pick up my pace, edging Hadley away from the market. “I’ve never once thought about it.” Truly, I haven’t. Not the way she means, as in becoming a princess. My father warns me all too often of the wrongness and dangers of Karm under the king’s rule, and that fear has been as present in my life as the castle looming over me now.

I would never mention my father’s beliefs to Hadley, though. I wouldn’t risk involving her or her family in his theories, which have gotten worse with his illness. But having grown up with his rants, the last thing I’d desire for myself would be to marry the king’s son and live locked behind the walls of the castle. I look up again at the blue pointed rooftops piercing the sky and shiver.

“I don’t believe you,” Hadley says. She shakes her head and loops her arm through mine before I can respond, steering us under the low eaves of the apothecary shop. “Don’t worry. I haven’t forgotten why we made this heinous trip.” She smiles.

“Thank you,” I say. “And it’s not that heinous. We make the walk every week just so you can lustfully gaze upon the prince’s posters.”

Her eyes take on a faraway look as we pass by a painted parchment of a smiling Prince Sebastian. Scrawled beneath is the message:
Seeking his princess
. I don’t remark on the impossibility that one of us could ever be chosen. The court has been aflutter with balls and dances—events we’re not permitted to attend—with the ladies of age competing for the prince’s affections. Although it’s my least concern, I don’t want to ruin Hadley’s enjoyment.

After she’s taken in the charming portrait of the prince, Hadley sighs and motions to the door of the apothecary. “Let’s get your father’s prescriptions, and then you’ll be in better spirits to humor my daydreams.”

I look behind us one last time and release a pent-up breath. The two knights are no longer lurking. “Let’s hurry,” I tell her, then force a wide smile. “And afterward, I’ll watch the announcement with you.”

She laughs, a high, squealing sound that tickles my ears. “I knew you secretly wished it. Oh, the prince is much more handsome in person. Just wait, you’ll see.” She bounces as she opens the door. “Your first transmission. Your first glimpse of the royalty we only dream of—”

“Hadley, please—” I cut her outburst short. “You can’t tell my father. He wouldn’t approve.”

She waves away my worry as she ushers me inside the shop. “He’ll never know.”

While the apothecary retrieves my father’s prescriptions, I peruse the shelves, aimlessly reading labels while my mind revisits the transmission I witnessed in person when I was ten.

The
snap
of a man’s neck breaking as he was hung echoes through my memories and I squeeze my eyes shut.

Today’s transmission will be different
, I tell myself, forcing my breathing to calm. The prince’s announcement of his chosen princess will be extremely different from the transmitted punishments. All of Karm will celebrate.

I blink my eyes open and find Hadley watching me, her brows pinched in thought. I never told her about what I saw that day for fear just talking about it would make it real, and my young mind wanted it to be a nightmare. So, I’m not lying when I say I’ve never seen a transmission. I haven’t. Not on a monitor.

After I pay for the medicines, I wrap the glass vials in a brown rag and bury them under the fruit in my basket. Luckily the apothecary, Mr. Levine, is a close friend of my father’s, and even if he suspects my father of having the Virus, I know he’d never report him.

I thank Mr. Levine, then turn to meet Hadley at the door.

“Miss Zara,” he calls out.

Pausing in the doorway, I glance at Hadley and say under my breath, “I probably counted my payment wrong.” I step back to the counter. “Yes?”

Mr. Levine’s weathered eyes sweep my face, and he frowns. “Please tell your father I asked after him. I do miss his company during this fishing season.” He widens his eyes. “Mayhap I could send a messenger to invite him along on one of my hunts soon. Say, next week?”

It only takes a moment for me to understand his cautiously selected words. “I believe he would like that very much,” I say. “Thank you, Mr. Levine.”

“Of course.” He smiles. “Best hurry home before it comes.”

I squint. “I’m sorry?”

“The rain. It’s about to come down hard.” His kind, crinkly eyes meet mine, and I wonder if I’m meant to catch another meaning there, or whether I’m simply being paranoid. Here, so near the castle with the Force walking the streets, I’m always paranoid. I return his smile and nod.

Hadley and I make sure my father’s friend sees us head in the direction out of Town Square. Then we make a sharp right, back through a narrow alleyway toward the crowd gathering beneath the screen.

“Your father has creepy friends.” Hadley smoothes down the fly-aways from her braid.

“Mayhap,” I say.
But I’m thankful for them
. Mr. Levine has secured a way for my father to get his medicines without me having to come into town. It will be less suspicious. Though it may put the apothecary at risk, I trust his prudence; he’ll choose a discreet messenger.

Hadley and I find a clear spot on the center fountain and take a seat on its cemented edge. The water rains down in a wide spray, sending drops onto my arms and gray tunic. I look at the darkening sky, trying to determine if the rain Mr. Levine spoke of has already come or if the fountain alone splashes me.

I watch the crowd grow around us as Hadley talks on about the prince, what life in the castle must be like, and her theories of what King Hart was like before he locked himself away in some secret lair. I bob my head along, my nerves strung tight.
I shouldn’t be here
.

A loud crackling rends the air.

I freeze.

“It’s only the transmission starting,” Hadley assures me. “I have to admit, I’m almost jealous of your ignorance.” She lifts her head toward the screen, shifting her eyes away from me, but not before I see the sadness in them.

I open my mouth to question her, but the screen flickers. When we were younger, after my first stolen glimpse of the public punishments, I made her swear to keep the transmissions to herself. I trusted my father’s reasons for forbidding me to watch them after that. Of course, once we were older, I could have done away with childish fears. Now, as an image appears on the screen, I know why I never abandoned our rule.

Terror grips my insides. I want to turn away, to go back to my father and take care of him, and to forget my curiosity and desire to share in Hadley’s fun. I risk so much every day hiding my father’s illness.

I want to remain ignorant.

Only the face on the screen holds me captive. It’s not the elusive King Hart, but his son.

Prince Sebastian.

His golden eyes seem to glow with the lambent of the monitor, ethereal and assured. His full lips, curved into a graceful smile, hold an air of danger—a secret only he knows.

“Isn’t he beautiful?” Hadley says longingly.

Yes
, I think, but not in the way she’s obviously seeing him. He’s beautiful in the way the apple in the banned book my father read to me ages ago was beautiful to the princess. Tempting but deadly.

“Citizens of Karm,” Prince Sebastian addresses his audience. His voice is a deep baritone that booms through the square. “Thank you for joining me. I know you were looking forward to an appearance from your king, but as I’m soon to take a wife, I’m making every effort to assume more responsibilities in the kingdom, also.”

As his voice echoes off the buildings, tendrils of fear wrap around me. My memories of the thief being hanged resurface, his haunting cries replacing the prince’s speech. My brow beads with cold sweat.

My throat thickens and I swallow.
I should leave
. The Force is here, and I have medicines on my person that would incriminate my father. I don’t spy the knights in crimson anywhere, and that worries me more than if one of them were standing by my side.

Glancing at Hadley, whose eyes are transfixed on the prince, I begin to inch away. She doesn’t notice, and I hunker over to slip from her sight. Staying low to the ground, I maneuver through the crowd.

The prince’s voice follows me out of the square. “Let us not waste another moment. As I’ve been relentlessly searching the realm for my princess, I cannot wait.” I can almost feel the anticipation thrumming back in Town Square. Just as I pass through the gate, he says, “On the morrow, one of your own will become my betrothed, my princess, and the future queen of Karm.” He pauses. “Zara Dane. I’m honored to—”

My blood stills.

A
whoosh
floods my ears, snuffing the rest of his words out.