Fireblood (37 page)

Regardless, it doesn’t change the fact that Sebastian needs to be stopped. “So, how do I believe you’re not here to spy on the Rebels for him?”

Her blue eyes widen, glistening with intense pain. “I love him,” she says. “But I’m not cruel. I would never do what he did—I’d never have hung that maid. She was nice to me.” She looks down. “I’m not evil.” She bites off the word. “Whatever you may think of me.”

“I don’t think that of you, Cecily,” I say, and take her hand. “I always thought Sebastian a fool for not choosing you.”

She lifts her head, and a small smile forms on her thin mouth.

A crash sounds from across the camp, and Cecily and I jerk. Shouting echoes off the pines. My eyes follow a group hurrying toward the Rebel leader’s tent. “Time to go,” I tell her, and help her stand.

Maybe I’m a fool myself for trusting Cecily, but I believe her. I trust that her feelings for Sebastian are true, that he’s now hurt her deeply, and that she has no other place to turn. Even if she is working with him, it won’t matter for long.

We reach the disturbance, where Silas and a brute of a man are fighting in the middle of the gathered crowd. Silas swings at him; the man ducks. Fallon attempts to get between them, but they pay her no attention as they continue to fight. Silas lands a punch.

Fallon jumps on a makeshift platform and yells, “Enough!”

The two finally break apart, and two other men pull Silas and the guy toward the front of the crowd.

How can we fight a war when we’re near destroying ourselves?

Fallon presses the loose strands of hair back toward her bun. Then she looks out over the Rebels and citizens. “How long do you think we have before the Force and the king’s knights storm this camp?”

Glancing around, I watch as some heads hang low. Others, in the back of the gathered group, slink farther away. Women wrap their arms around their children. These are not fighters. They’re citizens of a lost era, only wishing to live out their lives in peace.

“We don’t have much time to decide on a course of action before that happens,” Fallon continues. She steps to the front of the platform, her small form shaking. “Do you want King Sebastian in power? Do you want to fear his reign every day, questioning whether that day or the next will be your last? He needs to be stopped.”

A woman steps forward, her skin still dirty from the long trek to camp. “I brought my children here to see a father they haven’t laid eyes on in four years.” The crowd murmurs their understanding. “He’s sacrificed everything already, and now you ask for his life. How can we trust that the king’s army won’t destroy us all? Once we reveal ourselves, we’re all dead.”

The citizens throw heated words toward Fallon. She doesn’t respond but instead looks directly at me. I raise my brows as she points my way.

“Do you recognize her?” she asks them. Warmth splashes my face as all eyes land on me. “She’s Zara Dane. The princess once betrothed to King Sebastian.” Fallon beckons me to join her on the stage, and I shake my head lightly.

Why me?

Fallon waves me forward once more. I breathe in a shaky breath and step up to her side. “What are you doing?” I whisper.

She leans in close. “Trust me.” Turning back toward the crowd, she says, “Zara was a commoner just like you, and the king elevated her, offering her riches and every convenience the realm has to offer. Yet she is here. She has sacrificed just as much as anyone here, because she knows what has to be done.” She looks to me to say something, but my throat closes up. My mind blanks as I stare out over the crowd, taking in each wary expression.

I quickly pull Fallon to my side and whisper, “Where’s Xander?” Where is her second in command, the once-quiet Rebel who revealed his secret public speaking skills just yesterday?

“He’s busy making his own speeches.” She nods once. “This one’s yours to make.”

I swallow the forming lump, and it scrapes my too-dry throat on its way down. Pushing the sudden nausea down with it, I think of my father—the first to stand against the tyranny of King Hart—and pray for his words to speak through me.

“I fear the monsters of Outside,” I say. “I’ve seen the wasteland and its many horrors, and it scares me.” I curl my hands into fists to stop the trembling. “But Karm has its own monsters.”

Heads nod, and agreement ripples through the air. I suck in a breath. “If we don’t face down all of these monsters—the ones stalking our loved ones as well as the ones in power—then we become monsters in our own right by doing nothing. By allowing the enslavement and killing of innocents to continue. I’ve heard the plans King Sebastian has for his realm, and if he succeeds, we’ll not only lose our lives, but the very thing that makes us human.” I raise my head higher. “Our freedom.”

The Rebels and citizens cheer, and my chest relaxes, but are the citizens moved enough to fight? Fallon’s hand slips into mine, and I glance at her as she looks over the people.

A tension-filled silence settles over the crowd.

I look at the planks in the platform, and a fierce madness rises within me. I squeeze Fallon’s hand, and she grips mine back. I look up. “This is our time to stand against the darkness—of Outside and in. Refuse to live in fear. Take a stand. This is no longer a rebellion.” I breathe in. “It’s our revolution.”

The quiet breaks. Shouts sound out like strikes of lightning, cracking against the forest like a whip. The citizens pump their fists in the air right along with the Rebels.

“Will you hide in fear and hand over your lives willingly?” Fallon shouts. “Or will you be the ones to choose your fate?”

My chest blooms with renewed determination as they cheer louder. Purpose sweeps through the camp. I know we may not succeed, but we will take away something Sebastian values more than anything. His power over us.

Once Fallon and Silas have the plan mapped out, the citizens suit up in old armor they’ve scavenged over the years, cast off by the knights. Since they haven’t had the training the Rebels have, they need some kind of protection. It’s the best we can do with so little time. I feel as if I’m in the middle of one of my fantasy books, waiting for a horn to sound and the army to march off toward an open battlefield.

With resolve coursing through my blood, I slide a short-sword into my leather harness. It hangs low on my hip, and its cold metal presses against my thin clothes. I feel empowered.

Never again will I wear the dresses of a princess.

I slip on a pair of black boots and hike them up past my shins to protect against attacks to my legs. Strapping on a leather vest over my black shirt, I prepare for battle.

THIRTY-NINE

N
early 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?”