Fireblood (4 page)

I shake the thought from my head. It’s unimportant. Finding a way to escape the Force and those who would lock me up at the slightest show of illness is my only concern. Another plan has been formulating, too. The Oubliette is somewhere on the court grounds. What if I could free my father?

Someone knocks on the door and Madity shuffles over and opens it. “Sir Devlan.” She curtsies slightly, her bad leg hindering her. “The princess is ready to break her fast and meet with her soon-to-be betrothed.”

There is no response from the other side of the doorway. I push a heavy breath through my lips and rise from my seat. Running my hands along the gown Madity selected, I brush out the creases, then brace myself to face the prince.

As I step toward the door, I’m surprised by the knight in the corridor. He’s not dressed in armor or sporting the crimson and silver insignia of the Force. He stands at perfect attention to his full height of perhaps six-two. His black and midnight-blue uniform brings out the color of his pale blue eyes, and his dark, nearly black hair hangs in loose wisps, feathering his eyes and ears. His eyes penetrate mine, and my breath shudders as they flick down my body, assessing me.

Madity steps to the side. “Princess Zara, may I present Sir Devlan Capra, Prince Sebastian’s first knight.”

“Princess.” Sir Devlan bows at the waist.

I don’t know the proper way in which to acknowledge his address, so I simply nod. “Sir Devlan.”

He sweeps his hand through the air and holds his arm outstretched. I assume that’s my cue to walk ahead of him. I turn to Madity. “Thank you for everything.”

She waves me off. “’Tis my pleasure and
honor
, m’lady.”

I step into the corridor and head toward the spiral staircase. Once we reach the lower level, I take in every inch of the castle, endeavoring to learn my surroundings and my way around here.

Deep blue and silver tapestries drape the walls. Large pillars reach toward the steepled ceiling, and dark veins in the stone walls separate the swirls of gold, silver, and amber. Castle Karm is something constructed right out of one of the antique books my father used to sneak to me. Books I hungrily devoured about a time before the Final War. Before King Hart built a land around his ideal perfect society.

Camelot.

He’s constructed his entire realm after King Arthur’s beloved city, trusting its citizens to recreate the peaceful and picture-perfect utopia. Hadley and I spent many hours debating and inventing possible reasons why King Hart chose Camelot as his guide. It continues to remain a mystery to us as well as the rest of the citizenry. Though I admit, it’s a fine idea, trying to reinvent a time once believed to be unspoiled. But Camelot was a dream, a fiction.

Karm is real, and not perfect.

The air is chill, and the corridor’s disturbingly quiet. The only sound comes from Devlan’s boots hitting hard stone and echoing through the corridor as he marches behind me. I glance over my shoulder. His right hand rests on the pommel of his sword—he must be left-handed—and his gaze is steady on me. Irritated, I face forward. I don’t like the feel of him walking behind me, scouting for some attack as if he’s my guard. Or my servant.

“Sir Devlan, you could walk ahead of me,” I say. “I think you could better protect me from the front.”

He’s quiet for a long moment, then says, “There is no attack to fear, princess.” I wait for him to say something more, but he doesn’t.

“Then why not walk in front or beside me if there’s no reason for it?”

He takes another moment to answer. It’s infuriating. “There’s a reason.”

“And…it is?”

“I would like to keep my eyes on you.” The thought of this knight watching my backside makes my insides squirm. I hug my arms around my stomach as he continues. “It’s my duty to place knights around you to protect you. Even from yourself.”

I slow my steps. “What does that mean?”

“The sudden disappearance of the princess wouldn’t bode well.” His footsteps quicken, bringing him closer. “I don’t want to explain to King Hart or Prince Sebastian how I lost the princess if she manages to get herself lost.”

My blood freezes in my veins. Did he hear what I said to Madity? Is he the person eavesdropping on the other side of the listening devices? Or did Madity expose me? No. I don’t believe that kind-hearted woman would do that. But the fact the prince’s first knight may be aware of my intentions is unsettling.

I’m quiet as he guides me around a corner toward an indoor garden. I reach for the atrium door handle, but Devlan’s hand grasps it first. He leans his weight against the door, keeping it closed. He’s nearly pressed into me, a mere inch between us, and the heat of his body sends a current zipping along my skin.

He smells of forest and mint, and something sweet I can’t identify. “It would be unwise, princess,” he whispers, his warm breath brushing my ear. “If you were to suddenly disappear, my knights and I would not be the only ones punished.”

I loose the breath I’d been holding. He presses the handle down and opens the door as his other hand cups my lower back, giving me a slight push into the sunlit room.

Fear prickles my skin, but all questions and thoughts are forced to the back of my mind as I’m greeted with Prince Sebastian rising from his chair. Gold and silver are woven through his cream tunic, and an intricate crest showing a lion—its massive paw gripped around a heart—decorates its center. It glimmers in the morning light, drawing my eye. His elegant garment is drawn together tightly by a studded belt. A sword scabbard hangs at his waist.

“Your Highness.” Devlan lowers himself into a dignified bow. He then turns toward me, dips his head, and moves to the far end of the atrium. He leans against the floor-to-ceiling window, keeping his eyes trained on the prince and me standing awkwardly before each other.

I pry my eyes away from the knight’s scrutiny and drag them slowly across the lush vegetation. Large stone planters of palms, gardenias, and exotic plants I can’t name fill the open, airy room. A makeshift waterfall flows over jutting rocks into a cement pond. Lily pads and water poppies float along its rippling surface. Finally, reluctantly, I bring my gaze to the prince.

He stands straight, his hands clamped behind his back, forcing his shoulders square and himself to his full, lofty height. Notably, only a couple inches shorter than Devlan. His soft, boyish features brighten as he appraises me, and a smile hikes one side of his full lips. “At last, Zara.” He walks two steps closer to me. “We meet.” He unlaces his hands and holds one out to me. A platinum band with a jewel shaped into the Hart crest adorns his right ring finger.

I remind myself of my purpose: convince him I’m but an enamored maiden, and keep him from suspecting my goal. I insert my hand into his upturned palm. It’s soft, warm, and engulfs mine. “My lord.” I give a poorly executed curtsy.

He brings my hand to his lips and places a lingering kiss on its back. His golden eyes look into mine. “Please. I’d like there to be few formalities between us.” He releases my hand to brush an escaped blond lock from his eyes. “I’d love for you to call me by my given name, Sebastian. To hear it daily from your lovely lips would inspire me.”

Dumbfounded, I part my lips, then clamp my mouth closed. Convincing him may not be as easy as I thought. He obviously has a way with the maidens, and is used to charming the skirts off them. What would one of the courtiers do with his flattery? Flirt back? That seems pointless, as we’re to be betrothed by this evening. He’s won, and he didn’t even have an opposing suitor to play against.

Instead of responding, I give him a bemused smile, hoping he’ll be content with having an effect on me. It seems to work as he returns it, then guides me to a white linen-topped table.

My eyes dance around the room, seeking windows, doors, openings—a way out of this castle. Trying to center my thoughts, I put my attention back on the prince. For now, I need to be smart and stay focused on him. There will be time later to wander and explore.

The trickle of the waterfall fills the room as servants pull out our chairs. Sebastian sits, and I smooth the back of my gown and settle onto the seat. He looks to me, and his light-brown eyes—so bright they shine gold—roam the features of my face.

He takes a sip of water from the goblet before him, then wipes his mouth with the tablecloth. “I know you’ve just arrived,” he says, leaning back in his chair, “and would probably like to get to know the grounds, but I was hoping you’d attend my joust practice on the morrow. Though I’m sure practice is a waste of time, I love the action of the sport.” A confident grin crooks his lips, and he continues when I say nothing. “Don’t worry. No one will unhorse me at the upcoming tournament. They didn’t last year, or the year before.”

I take a sip from my own goblet, stalling for time to think on how to respond. “Of course, my lord. I’d be honored to attend.”

He shakes his head, his dirty-blond waves bounce. “Again, do call me Sebastian.”

“I’m sorry.” I want to kick myself; I’m already messing up. “It’s difficult after being so accustomed.”

His lips widen into a knowing smile. “Well, let’s make sure to break free of some of those customs.” He winks.

My skin crawls. I hope he’s not insinuating what I think he is. Even so, I plan to be far away from here before the wedding. Attempting to keep up with his unsettling flattery, I smile again.

There are things I must know, like why I was chosen, but I’m unsure how to broach the topic. I brace myself with a sharp intake of air and say, “Sebastian.” I pause after testing the feel of his name on my tongue. “May I ask a question of you?”

“Anything.”

I straighten my back. “I’m so very honored to be chosen among all the eligible maidens of Karm, but…” I falter.

“But why were you chosen?” he finishes for me.

Relieved, I nod. “Yes, my lor—Sebastian. I’m but a simple girl who works on a cloning farm with her father, I…” I trail off, seeing my blunder in his darkening eyes. I’ve mentioned my father. A Taken.

Sebastian’s eyebrows draw together, and the corners of his eyes crease. “Zara,” he says my name not as warmly this time. “Even raised in the country, I assume you were not denied etiquette classes.”

“Nay,” I snap. “I was not. But it was only yesterday that he was—”

“Enough.” He holds up his hand and looks down at his empty plate. My whole body recoils at his harsh command. He glances around the atrium. “Where is that damned servant? Our plates are getting cold.”

I reach out and touch my plate. It’s warm. Heated porcelain to hold your food so your meal stays hot. The ridiculous luxury is almost as infuriating as him silencing me. I wait for him to at least answer my question, but it seems he’s forgotten it, apparently vexed.

I open my mouth to try to coax him into the conversation again, but a loud crackling disrupts the room. Startled, I flinch.

“’Tis only Sir Devlan’s communicator, Zara,” Sebastian says.

The knight pulls a silver device from his uniform vest and holds it before his mouth. “Devlan.”

There is more static, and then a deep voice sounds over the shiny device. “Kyle Levine has been brought in.” Static. “Does the prince wish to oversee the questioning procedure?”

My chest flutters at the mention of the apothecary. Why has he been brought in? Fear coils in my stomach and I grip my dress, my arms aching from the tension. Devlan looks to Sebastian and I follow his gaze.

Sebastian pushes his chair back and stands. “Yes, I do,” he says. Then to me, “I’m sorry, Zara. I have to depart for now, but I hope to see you again before the betrothal ceremony.” He forces a smile. “Devlan will appoint you a guard and have you escorted there and, in the meantime, show you around Court.”

I stand beside him. “Is everything all right?” I know I’m overstepping my bounds, but I don’t like the sound of this “questioning procedure.”

Sebastian casts an unsure glance at Devlan. “I suppose the princess must become accustomed to castle life soon enough.”

Devlan’s brow creases. “My lord, surely not on her first day.” He checks himself, squaring his shoulders and lowering his head. “Pardon me, Your Highness. I was merely thinking of—”

“Nay. You’re right, of course.” Sebastian runs a finger over his chin. “Show Zara out the back way so she doesn’t hear.”

“Hear what?” I glance between them. “What’s happening?”

Sebastian takes my hand in his. “I presume in the country you don’t hear much about the affairs of state, but there is a network working to overthrow our realm. I believe this Kyle Levine has information, and we must
convince
him to share it.” He grimaces. “Until later.”

With that, he places a kiss on my hand and hurries out of the atrium.

I turn to Devlan. “Take me there,” I demand. “I know this man. He is no traitor, and I will speak for him.”

His dark eyebrows crawl up his forehead. “Princess, this is not a trial.”

Of course it’s not. There are no trials in Karm. Pulling my shoulders back, I bring all of my five feet, two inches before him. “Regardless, I want to be privy to the happenings in Court.”

He shakes his head. “I promise you, Princess. You do not.” He waves his hand toward a giant glass door at the back of the atrium. “Come. I’ll show you the garden. A lady would enjoy a stroll among the flowers more than the business of men.”

Gritting my teeth, I nod. “Very well.” I take a step forward to follow him. I have no choice, do I? How will I convince the prince and his first knight that I’m compliant, and then free my father and myself, if I speak out? When Devlan stops at the door and reaches inside his uniform to bring out a key ring, I’m reminded of the Force grabbing their V-Batons…clubbing my father over his head…blood pooling on the earth.

They have the apothecary—my father’s friend.

The glass door slides open and Devlan walks outside. Fresh air blasts me, and I fill my lungs, drawing in strength.

I turn and chase after Sebastian.

“Princess!” Devlan shouts.

I hike my gown and run faster to catch up with the prince. I know Mr. Levine is innocent, and whatever the Force has in store for my father’s friend is vile.