Fireblood (3 page)

And the storybook world of nightmares.

Growing up, I heard tales of beasts mutated by the fallout, so large and distorted that they devour everything in their paths. I was told of people no longer able to use their eyes, blinded by the loss of ozone, with adapted senses that sniff out their prey.
Humans
.

I shiver and sink closer to the fire.
They’re only stories meant to keep us complacent
, I remind myself. It’s why we accept King Hart’s rule, his realm. No one dares to question for fear of being tossed into the Outside.

My father never confirmed or denied the myths of Outside, but he did teach me of the world that once lived where the wasteland now thrives. He read me banned books at night when I was a child, sneaked them to me as I grew older, and taught me about the laws that used to govern the different sectors of the world. And how very different Karm is from that world.

Now, I’ll never lay eyes on my father again.

The signs of the Virus first appeared in him nine weeks ago. He was having difficulties remembering cloning procedures he’d done a thousand times before. I tried my best to take over, to cover for him, making sure to meet our quota of cows, pigs, and our recent addition of chickens. When he became bedridden last week, though, we fell behind, and truly, it was then only a matter of time before the Force came.

Even if the prince had never announced my name, I couldn’t have hidden my father away much longer. The Virus that took millions during the Final War lurks in every citizen’s blood. It’s not a matter of if, but
when
the Virus will take us. Although it seems to skip children, preferring instead to take us in our prime.

My father evaded it longer than most, although he has little time left now.

Soon, he’ll die in the Oubliette. Alone. Forgotten. We’re never to speak of the Taken. They’re a stain, an imperfection in our otherwise perfect realm.

I shed plump, hot tears. They burn as they trail down my cheeks.

Maid Madity adjusts the apron along her curvy hips and attentively approaches me. “Princess Zara?” My eyes snap to her plain yet charming face. “Do you wish me to wash your feet? You must be worn from your trip.”

I shake my head and wipe my face hastily. “Nay, thank you.”

“How about I brush out your hair?” she tries again, a warm smile curling her lips. “You have such beautiful blonde tresses. A good brushing will bring back their luster.”

My brow furrows. “My father has just been abducted by the most ruthless knights in all of Karm,” I snap. “I hardly think a bath and hair brushing will soothe me.” I cringe and pinch my eyes closed, immediately regretting my harsh words. It’s not her doing as to why I’m here, why my father is now—as I sit in this lavish chamber—being sent to the Oubliette. However, my mind cannot summon the spirit to placate her.

She bows her head. “Understood, m’lady.” She leaves the room, and the door bangs closed behind her.

Willing my body to move, I slog across the floor toward the balcony and push the glass doors open. The evening air is crisp and scented with smoke from the torches. I breathe it in.

The setting sun stains the sky an unearthly violet. I can just make out the faint blue grid beneath the clouds. The electric lines streak the sky, and I wonder what a sunset without the force field that domes Karm would look like.

Glancing around, I locate an Eye in the corner of the balcony, its tiny lens encased in glass.

As my father would say,
damn
.

I edge toward the railing, keeping my right side out of view of whoever is spying on the other side of the camera. The blade of the dagger presses against my thigh, and I clasp the hilt beneath my tunic, wishing I could bring it out and examine it further.

My father’s initials are engraved on the black hilt, just above a crest of an eagle’s outspread wings and a sword. I know there’s a story behind how he came to own the weapon, but I suppose he was waiting for his last day to do so. Now, he never will.

My father may yet live another few days in the Oubliette, but once you’re there, your presence is so completely wiped from Karm you may as well have never existed. I won’t even be given the chance to say goodbye to him at a funeral. He and all of his belongings will be incinerated.

My last moments with my mother were nearly the same before she was taken. She had gone mad, rambling meaningless obscenities my five-year-old mind couldn’t process at the time, and then the Force hauled her away. A fiery ache lodges in my throat.

Will my parents be together soon?

I pray so, but I don’t believe in Heaven. God wouldn’t inflict such a disease on His world—wouldn’t turn His creation into a barren wasteland. Maybe they’ll be together in the wind. Or the clouds. Somewhere soft and bright, watching over me.

There’s not a Heaven, but there is a Hell.

Karm.

Its citizens glide along every day, whether in oblivion or fear, I’m not sure. They’re as lost as the era they follow. All the while, they pretend this is paradise, forgetting the Virus that devastated the world still works in our veins. They can abide by King Hart’s rules, but I won’t allow my parents’ memory to fade while I live in this sham of a utopia.

I will remember them and talk about them. Even if it angers my soon-to-be betrothed
prince
. My chest constricts with resentment. His smug and conceited air during the live transmission, his act of betrothing me without so much as an introduction first—never mind his neglect of properly asking my father for my hand—only confirms my father’s theory of the royals and this kingdom. They take what they want.

Even if the prince forces me to marry him, I’ll never forgive him for taking away the little time I had left with my father. He’s not my king yet, and he’ll never rule
me
.

I run my hands over my tunic, shaking out the hem to better conceal the leather sheath. All weapons are banned in Karm, except for the V-Batons and arming swords the Force and army of knights carry. They’re issued so the knights can enforce Karm’s order—the laws—although it’s rare for anyone to disobey.

I recall the public hanging again. I’d slipped away from my father to explore when that thief was caught stealing bread in the market. The Force strung him up in the center of the square and transmitted it live for all citizens to witness. No judge. No jury. The Force is both. King Hart allots his authority to his superior knights—his Round Table—to punish and keep order as if they’re an extension of him.

The more years that pass, the more King Hart’s order is enforced and followed. Too many fear the Force to go against the laws now. Even I stayed in line after the first time I watched the Force nearly beat my father to death. I kept my head down and followed along. Just like the rest.

Until this moment.

I watched my mother and now my father dragged off by the Force. Saw it happen to strangers and friends alike. I shouldn’t have listened to my father. I should have hidden him away as I’d planned. If I’m going to die of the Virus, I want it to be on my own terms. Not locked away in an underground dungeon, isolated and possibly beaten for something I have no control over.

Panic hitches my breathing. I’m here, in the castle, right under their watchful eyes. What if I develop symptoms? The prince would cart me off to the Oubliette at once.

My father’s frenzied attack on the Force haunts my mind. I’m to get as far away from Castle Karm as possible. These were his last words to me. This was his wish.

I clutch the hilt of the dagger and stare down at the stone wall surrounding Court. Renewed anger and determination rise within me.

I’m going to escape.

FOUR

K
nock, knock
.

“Princess Zara,” Maid Madity calls through the door.

Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I lift myself off the unturned coverlet. Damn. The maid rises early.

I look out the balcony doors, to the blue lines bleeding across the morning sky, like veins running through Karm’s body. Then I trudge toward the large mahogany door. She raps once more, and I fling the door open and stare into her honey-brown eyes. She’s only an inch or two shorter than me, but considering my petite stature, she can’t possibly be taller than five feet.

She’s not my ideal choice for an ally; I don’t know if she’ll report me. But she may be my only option.

“Maid Madity,” I say softly. “You must get me out of here.”

She laughs. My eyebrows shoot up. Is she mocking me? She shakes her head, her auburn curls bouncing loose from her braid. “You’re a dramatic one, m’lady,” she says. “But I suspect the prince will enjoy the challenge.” She sweeps past me with a white gown draped over her arms. “You have all day to settle in and prepare yourself for the betrothal. I’m sure by then you’ll see how foolish you’re being. You’ve been given a great privilege. I can name countless ladies who’d love to fulfill this duty.” She tsks. “There will be some jealous maidens at the ceremony this evening, no doubt.”

My shoulders slump as she lays the gown across my bed. I close the door. She thinks I’m joking. Or rather, she’s unwilling to believe anyone would not want to marry the prince. I see kindness in her eyes, however. She may be the only one stationed in the castle who will help me. “Please, Maid Madity,” I say, inflecting as much feeling into my voice as possible. “I cannot—
will
not—marry the prince. I beg of you, help me to—”

Her hand covers my mouth, her eyes wide. “Nay, princess. You must call me only Madity.” She nods. “Please, I insist.” There must be listening devices, I realize, and she’s stopped me from blundering into treason.

I step back, and my eyes search her serious face. She won’t help me escape; that is clear, and I have no right to ask it of her. She’d risk her very life by helping me. No. I couldn’t live with that. I need to find a way out that doesn’t compromise her.

She lifts the white gown. “The prince loves white.” Her fingers caress the satin. “He had your betrothal gown made just for you.”

Realization dawns. How long ago must someone have begun this gown to have it ready on the day after my arrival? How long have they been planning a ceremony involving me without my knowledge? How long has the Force been watching me?

Because of this betrothal, my father is in the Oubliette now.

Anger boils under my skin. “Then he can wear it,” I snap, in spite of our tapped chamber.

She frowns and drops the dress back on the coverlet. “So many other maidens, princess,” she reminds me, and steps into the bathing room.

Despite her cheeriness toward my predicament, I admit she’s probably correct in thinking my plight futile—that I should wrap myself in the elegant garment and shuffle off to marry the most sought-after man in Karm. She’s right, of course; it’s utterly futile.

Even if I somehow made it out of the castle undetected, and past the towering walls, where would I go? Not only would the farmhouse be the first place the Force would look, but I’m positive new residents have already moved in to take over the cloning procedure.

I have no home.

I stare at the white gown. Its shimmery skirt hangs over the edge of the bed. Today is my birthday, and I’m now of marrying age by Karm’s standards. Just over four weeks ago, Prince Sebastian announced his intention to find a maiden to wed. As he’s only nineteen, all assumed this was a move toward him taking the throne. A wife would mature him in the eyes of Karm.

The news had spread through the realm like wildfire. Or, how I imagine a wildfire would spread and consume if it were allowed. Every girl of age had gone into a frenzy. Hadley had talked about it nearly every day.

Not me. I watched my father wither.

The force field may imprison Karm, but Prince Sebastian has imprisoned me. I’m trapped in a prison within a prison.

After I’m dressed in a soft cream gown—much nicer than anything I’ve ever worn before—and Madity has brushed out my hair, she claps her hands together and toddles over to the com interface along the chamber wall.

“The princess is ready,” she says into the com, then turns toward me. “Sir Devlan will be here soon to escort you to breakfast with the prince.”

I nod absently, my brain steadily concocting schemes and escape scenarios.

During my shower, I noticed the glass-encased stall had a com, too. I was relieved to find there was no camera above it, like the Eye on my balcony. Afterward, I studied every inch of my chamber, looking for Eyes—the camera devices used by the Force to ensure our safety, or to spy on us, making sure we’re obedient citizens. There were none that I could find.

However, my chamber
is
bugged. Madity proved that when she wouldn’t allow me to speak anything against the prince. I’ll have to watch myself around him and make certain I don’t give away my intentions. That will be difficult, as merely looking upon his face will surely elicit the hatred I feel toward him and the Force.

Prince Sebastian may not have been the one to raise his hand to my father, but he commands the hands of those who did. He is every bit as vile to me as King Hart and the Force combined. He’s the reason I’m not with my father now—the reason my father is suffering and dying alone in the Oubliette.

“Princess?” Madity approaches me. “Are you ill?”

Alarmed, I right myself on the settee and clear my throat. “Nay, I’m not. But—I’m sorry. Should you be addressing me as princess? I’m not technically…yet.”

“The prince has instructed as much, my lady.” She bows her head.

Of course. “I’m curious about the prince.” I smile, sit forward. “Tell me, what is his manner?”

Madity wrings her hands. “Oh, I’ve known Prince Sebastian since he was a little boy.” She beams. “I admit, one might think him conceited”—she eyes me—“but he has a good heart. I think he will be a fine ruler and husband…in time.” She says this last part so low that the listening devices may not have picked it up.

I think on her words. Using the prince’s self-importance against him could work in my favor. Those who view themselves as so desirable never question whether others don’t, and he’s never met me. He has no reason to question whether today is not the happiest day of my life. To him, I’m simply another maiden of Karm who pines after him. Which does raise the question:
Why me?
Why, out of all the more suited noble ladies and courtiers, would he choose a country girl?