Fireblood (2 page)

The ground beneath my slippered feet seems to shift. The well-worn tracks of the roadway come at me as I stumble forward.

My head jerks around, and I try to peer past the gate into the square, where shouting and applause and mayhem crack the silence like thunder. My pulse bangs against my veins.

My father
.

TWO

T
he ground thunders. Hooves pound the earth. I pump my legs harder. Staying hidden in the treeline, I race through the forest to reach my home first.

I make it to the back entrance and throw open the door. My pulse jumps in my throat, and I spring past the living room to unlatch the front shutters, even though I already know what I’ll see.

The Force.

Their silver armor glints in the low afternoon light, and I imagine their cruel eyes peeking out of the visors of their helmets. Crimson banners flutter around their horses, the color spiking my blood with adrenaline. I back away from the window and race to my father’s bedroom.

“Father!”

I skid to a stop before his bed. “The Force is coming. We have to move you.”

“Nay,” he responds with a wheeze. “There’s nothing to be done for me, Zara.” His eyes, glazed and distant, beg for my obedience. He’s been preparing for this moment, readying himself for it.

But I am not ready.

“Damn,” he curses, his pretense slipping as he struggles to push himself into a sitting position. He waves his hand. “Fetch what you can and leave out the back. You can return for the rest.”

I shake my head. “I won’t let them take you.” I glance around. How will I move him if he continues to refuse to leave? I drag his limp arm around my shoulder and attempt to lift him. For all the weight he’s lost, he’s still too heavy for me to carry on my own.

“Zara…” He trails off. I hear the defeat in his tone. “A girl of sixteen can’t take care of a sick old man while on the run.” He coughs, and his graying hair gleams silver as it catches the candlelight. “I won’t have you thrown into an orphanage or married off to some cruel lord. Do as I say.”

“No,” I retort. “There is time yet.”

His eyes search my face. “There’s a loose floorboard under the bed.” He speaks so softly I can barely register his words. “Leave my ring so the Force won’t suspect anything to be missing, but take the other object. It will protect you.”

I stare into his adamant gaze and wonder if he somehow saw the prince’s announcement. If he knows that the Force are here for
me
.

“Father, grab it now and we’ll leave together.” No matter if they’re here for me, they’ll surely know he’s contracted the Virus when they see him. I thought we had more time, but the prince has taken that away from us. I should have been better prepared. I should have—

Thwump, thwump
.

“By order of King Hart,” a knight says, his voice muffled through the oaken door, “you’re instructed to surrender your ill.”

They already know
.

I look into my father’s emerald eyes—the same green as my own—and wait. I will not open that door.

I should have been more careful in the market. I knew they were watching.
How long have they known?
Weeks? I’ve been retrieving my father’s prescriptions for over two months, and today was not the first time I felt their eyes on me.

However long they’ve suspected, I can’t take back my blunder now. Straightening my back, I tell my father, “I can take care of you and myself. I’m seventeen on the morrow.”

“Zara.” In just that whisper of my name, my heart breaks. I latch on to him and circle my arms around his neck, drawing him close.

The front door
bangs
open, and footsteps echo through our tiny farmhouse.

“I love you, Father,” I murmur into his ear. Before I can say anything more, hands clamp around my arms and I’m wrenched away.
“No.”

A knight spins me to face him. He lifts his visor and his cold gray eyes scan me. “Zara Dane,” he says, his voice gruff. “Your residency change papers.” He hands me a rolled parchment.

I hold the paper with trembling hands as the other two members of the Force grab my father. I step forward, not wanting them to manhandle him in his fragile state, but the knight extends a rigid arm between us.

“Your papers, m’lady.” He nods toward the crumpled document gripped between my fingers.

My father’s gaze snaps to me. “Why are you addressing her so?”

The gray-eyed knight ignores his question as I unroll the document. I already know what the paper states, but for the sake of my father, I play the part. “This…” I say, and stop. Take a breath. “I work beside my father here at the farm, cloning animals. My station—” I look at the knight in alarm, then to my father “—my station cannot be a castle maid.” I pray the knight doesn’t correct me, that my father won’t have to hear of my imminent engagement.
Let him be spared that knowledge
.

The gray-eyed knight spears me with a look. “You’re not to be a servant, m’lady. Did you not see the transmission?” Suddenly, I want the knights to remove my father from the room.
Take him outside now
. “The prince has announced his betrothal ceremony will take place on the morrow.” He squares his shoulders, stands straighter. “You’ve been selected above all for the honor of becoming Prince Sebastian’s betrothed.”

I drop the paper.

My eyes meet my father’s, and my heart constricts.

Before I can protest, my father yanks free of his captors, surprising me with his speed and strength. “No!” he shouts. “Zara, no.” The knights jerk him backward. “You cannot go. Please, Zara. Do what you must to escape—” He’s cut off by a quick blow to his head.

Spurred into motion, I push past the gray-eyed knight and run to my father’s side. “Unhand him!” I wrestle with the tallest knight’s hands. The other knight rears his fist back, ready to land a blow on me.

“Stop!” the gray-eyed knight orders him. “The princess must not be harmed.”

My eyes widen.
Princess
. Only my mind can’t process this now. My father’s troubled eyes search my face, then the knights drag him out.

I pursue them as they pull him through the shattered doorway of our farmhouse. “Please,” I whimper. “He’s no longer fighting.”

They ignore my pleas. My father struggles against them, and the tall knight thrusts his fist into my father’s jaw, dropping him to the ground.

The gray-eyed knight lays one hand on my shoulder and wraps the fingers of his other around my arm. “Your father is ill. The Virus has driven him mad.”

“Nay.” I shake my head. “This is your doing.” I bite down on my lip, preventing my mouth from opening again. No matter my newly elevated station, that will not stop their fists from flying if I insult the King’s Round Table Knights.

“You filthy…” the knight towering over my father says. “He bit me!” He reaches for his V-Baton next to the sword on his belt and my heart stutters to a stop.

I jerk against the knight holding me. “Don’t—” But it’s useless. The tall knight clubs my father over the head, and his face smacks the ground. Dry dirt clouds around him as blood trickles from his forehead, bathing the earth.

The other knight, his visor still masking his face, takes out his own V-Baton and it hums, its tip sparking to life with a white-blue current. He shoves the end of the metal wand into my father’s shoulder. My father writhes, his body convulsing.

Then he lies still.

Move
, I pray.

“Put him in the prison carriage,” the knight behind me orders.

They grab my father’s arms and drag him to a carriage drawn by two black horses. I sway, my legs numb and threatening to buckle.

The knight rights me. “M’lady,” he says, his tone dark, serious. “Pack your belongings. Castle Karm awaits.”

THREE

C
astle Karm stretches across the horizon. Never-ending. The carriage creaks to a stop and I look up. Gleaming silver gates rise before me, their electrical charge humming. Stone guard towers, positioned on either side, make up the gatehouse, with a guard stationed in each tower. A loud
snap
bites my eardrums, and I flinch. The horses snort. The electrical current running through the gates has been shut down, and now they squeak open.

As we pass through, I can just make out the blue-coned peaks of the castle. It’s the same view I’ve gazed upon for so long, only closer, and somehow more menacing. Torches and hanging lanterns guide our path, and my skin tightens with dread.

My carriage rumbles into the inner courtyard while my father’s veers off. I peer out the open window, trying to watch it for as long as I can. A gust of wind blasts me backward. It stings my swollen, irritated eyes, and I push the heels of my hands into their sockets, clearing away fresh tears.

The gray-eyed knight opens the carriage door and offers me his hand. “Prince Sebastian requires you to be settled in your quarters before you’re to make his acquaintance.” His tone is callous.

Ignoring his outstretched hand, I step down from the carriage on my own. I refuse to touch the hands of the knights who beat my father. This was not the first time. They’ve paid many visits to our farm over the years, making sure to keep my father and his animal production “in line.”

Gathering up the hem of my tunic-dress, I move away from the carriage. I’d grudgingly done as told and changed into the nicest dress I own. I’d also sneaked away while I changed to do as my father had requested and pry the floorboard up. Inside was a wooden box that contained just what he said it would: his wedding band and a second object—an outlawed dagger. After inspecting my father’s ring, missing him and my mother both, I’d reluctantly placed it back into the box. Then I’d strapped the dagger’s sheath to my leg, praying the Force wouldn’t search me.

The dagger rests against my outer thigh now, and through my tunic I rub the pad of my finger over the R and D along the hilt. At least a part of him is still here. They may have taken him away, but his initials remind me that he’ll always be with me.

Guiding me.

Compared to my pristine surroundings, my finest layers of cream linen might as well be a smock.

Sprinkling the lush grounds is every color of flower and foliage. Pink and lavender indigo spring up between mounds of snapdragon, and ivies crawl sparsely scattered pines. The scents of rosemary and thyme nearly overpower me as the hem of my dress stirs their sprigs. In the center of the grounds, clear water cascades over an intricately carved stone fountain, and iridescent hues arc above it, twinkling in the afternoon light.

Stepping onto the stone court, I spin once, taking in row upon row of arches on freestanding columns. The immense box-like structure of the arcade surrounding me is only small compared to the colossal castle it protrudes from. I crane my neck as my eyes roam up the front of Castle Karm. Its near-white stone is spotless, nothing like the dusty, dank farmhouses of the country. Guards pace the wall walk of the second landing, and above them, midnight blue and silver tapestries drape the outer walls, matching the conical rooftops reaching into the sky.

The gray-eyed knight escorts me through massive mahogany doors, and I’m dwarfed by elegance I’d never imagined. The stone floors echo our steps. A crystal chandelier lights the inner ward with an amber glow, giving the illusion of warmth despite the chill in the air. Velvet tapestries—blue, silver, and crimson—hang ceiling to floor.

As we ascend a spiral staircase, my head spins from the height. I want to latch on to the stone railing to steady myself, but I’m afraid to touch anything. I’m so out of place within this element that I feel detached, as if in a dream. Four flights bring us to the top level, and my body is taxed. My emotions are drained.

After passing five rooms, we stop at the sixth, and the door swings open.

A middle-aged woman, her auburn hair pulled into a braided bun, ushers me inside the room. “My dear,” she says, her voice both soft and excited, “what a journey you’ve had. Sit, sit.” She beckons me to a burgundy velvet settee near a brass fire pit.

I say nothing and sit as instructed, welcoming the heat from the flames while taking in the tall stone walls that reach toward an arched ceiling. Giant wooden beams cross the open space above, and a chandelier hangs from the center one, casting the chamber in soft light.

“Maid Madity,” the knight says. I look up at him, having forgotten he was here. “The prince wishes the princess to retire for the evening, then to break her fast with him in the atrium come morning.”

She bobs her head, her eyes creasing as if irritated by his presence. I like her immediately. “Yes, of course,” she says. “Go now, Sir Larkin. I have a travel-weary charge to tend to.” She shoos the knight from the doorway.

I stare vacantly at the dormer window across from me while Maid Madity flitters about the room, hanging clothes—though not the clothes I brought—in a mahogany armoire. As she folds linens on the tall bed, I notice her gray servant’s tunic hangs a little lower on her left side, and there’s a slight limp in her walk.

She hums as she folds. It’s as if the realm has continued on. Like the transmission never occurred. Only
my
world has forever changed.

My head aches as I try to piece together all that has happened. I think of Hadley watching the transmission as Prince Sebastian announced my name. What went through her mind? Did she race to my home afterward, only to find me and my father already gone? Will I ever be able to see her again?

Mr. Levine’s actions are clear now. Somehow, he was aware of what was about to transpire. I don’t know how, but he had to have been. He was making sure my father would be taken care of after I was removed from his care. It would have assuaged some of my fears, but Mr. Levine’s kind and perilous effort is moot now.

Maid Madity stuffs the now-folded linens under the bed, and the fire
pops
. I startle, but quickly check myself, and scoff at the intricate illusion that is our world.

Karm is surrounded by a force field. It protects us, hiding us from Outside. The wasteland. Only here does grass and vegetation grow. Only here do we have the means to genetically fashion animals, giving life. Like my father’s farm where I helped him clone animals to sell at the market. After the nuclear fallout of the Final War, and the Virus that came shortly after, nothing remains of the old world except destruction, death, and plague.