Fireblood (5 page)

When I reach the inner ward, I halt and glance around. My breath comes in pants as I search for the direction the prince went.

A strangled cry sounds from outside the castle.

Dread spikes my blood. The stifled protest transforms into a cry that carries through the entryway. I disregard the curious stares of the servants and head toward the courtyard. I push through the large doors, my limbs quaking and my head light, and stop.

In the middle of the arcade, five members of the Force surround a wooden contraption. Mr. Levine is strapped to the machine’s bench. Above, a beam stretches its length, where blades and hooks dangle inches from his body.

FIVE

A
foul sickness rises up from my stomach and coats my throat. The contraption Mr. Levine is secured to rumbles to life as a member of the Force cranks a lever on its side.

Mr. Levine wails as the rafter above him inches forward and a hook stops just above his stomach. A member of the Force grabs the hook. My feet are frozen to the stone. I’m unable to move—my system shocked. The point of the hook pierces his flesh. His sharp cry unhinges me, and I bolt forward.

The sight of blood streaming from Mr. Levine’s side nearly knocks me to the ground, but I force my feet to run toward the knight cranking the lever on the machine. “Stop!”

Another shrill, gurgling cry rips from the apothecary’s throat as the hook rises, bringing with it his entrails.

My head lightens, I’m dizzy, and I slur my next order. “Sh-top!”

Before I reach Mr. Levine, arms circle my waist, and I’m halted. Someone pulls me against their hard chest as I flail my arms. “Zara,” a harsh voice says.

My eyes widen as the knight digs the hook into Mr. Levine’s stomach again. Bile burns my throat and nostrils. I gasp air into my constricted lungs, trying to clear my stinging sinuses. “Make them stop,” I plead, my voice trembling.
There’s so much blood
.

A hand covers my eyes, and I’m being dragged away. The cool air of the inner ward wraps around me, soothing some of the nausea roiling my stomach.

The fingers digging into my arm loosen their grip, and the hands turn me about. “Have you never seen a live transmission from the king?” Sebastian’s face is flush from the exertion of wrangling me into the castle.

I shake my head, over and over, then stop. The thief.
The hanging
. But that was damn near humane compared to that torture device. What’s more, I
know
Mr. Levine. I’ve spent time with him in his shop, and with his daughters. He came to our home. Went fishing with my father. Is Mr. Levine’s torture being transmitted? Is his family watching right now?

Sebastian presses his lips together and his brow furrows. “You cannot interfere with our means of questioning.”

“Questioning?” I snap. Fury ignites, searing my blood. “How is he to tell you anything when his insides are spilling from his body?” I shove against his chest, hard. He doesn’t budge, and I raise my clenched fists to slam them against his stubborn form.

He grabs my wrists and firmly holds me in place. “The Force has already exhausted their simplest means of questioning. He gave nothing up.” He lowers his face toward mine; his warm breath fans my bangs. “This is the next logical step. You must know this.”

Angry, I try to turn away from him, holding back tears. “Did it ever occur to you that mayhap he knows nothing? And to simply end his torment, he’ll now tell you whatever you wish to hear?”

His eyes study my face, and his expression sours. “Come, Zara. You know that isn’t the truth.” His lips twist into a sneer. “After all, it was you who led the Force to him.”

My mouth falls open, and I shake my head. “No,” I whisper. I shove him backward one last time and free myself.

The tapestries along the corridors blur past me as I run, seeking an escape.

I don’t care that I have no plan—that I’m leaving with nothing. I need to be away from here. Now. Only one thing slows my pace.

My father.

What is happening to him in the Oubliette? Is he suffering the same fate from a similar device? When the mad misbehave, do they beat them and torture them back into line? Before I can think better of it, I’m hastening through the atrium, heading for the glass door.

The Oubliette can’t be far from the castle. It’s on the king’s grounds somewhere. Devlan has left the door unlocked, and I launch into the garden area and begin my search. There’s a latticed entrance to a maze past the garden, and the training ground is to my right. Deciding to go straight, I pick up the hem of my gown and run. A fire snakes its way down my throat.

I pass the center fountain and turn in to the entrance of the maze. Stumbling, I look down at what tripped me and nearly retch. A dead bird lies in the grass, its white neck crooked at an odd angle. I back away from it slowly, then head farther into the maze.

The walls of green stretch high above my head, and only the clouds guide my path. Everything else looks the same.

Two openings present themselves. I pause. I’m not sure that the Oubliette is even located here, but for some slightly twisted reason, I feel that it would be. I close my eyes for a moment, and then turn right.

The pathway feels never-ending. My heart races as I run faster, deeper toward the center. My limbs shake with panic and exertion. I reach a dead end and slam my hands into the wall of bushes. I could turn back, but I’ve wasted precious time. Beating down the wall feels right, and I claw at the stems and thorns. Hands latch onto my arms, and I yelp.

“Princess,” Devlan says, his voice deep, calm.

I continue my attack on the bushes. My hands are streaked with red. Devlan tears me away from the wall and turns me around, then pushes my back against the shrubbery.

He breathes deeply through his nose, his lips pressed into a hard line. His eyes scan my face as his chest rises and falls. “Don’t let them break you,” he whispers. “Be made of steel, like the walls that surround you.”

The depth of his pale blue eyes holds me captive. I see fear in them, but I also see strength, honor. His gaze is heated and steady, and something inside me wavers. As their blue intensifies, matching the bright streaks marring the sky, a strange calm settles over me.

When he seems convinced I’m through with my fit, he tentatively releases me. He’s close enough that I feel the heat rolling off his body. The inch of air between us is alive with tension until he slowly takes a step backward.

We stare at one another. Then he glances around the maze, his eyes seeking invisible ears, reminding me that I’m being spied on.

He turns and motions me before him, and we walk back silently. No more words between us.

* * *

Cameras are everywhere in Karm. Hidden, so that the old-world feel of the Camelot-esque culture is not lost. As I walk the castle grounds, today’s happenings heavy on my mind, I glance around at the tree branches, trying to spy one of the Eyes.

In my whole life, I’ve only witnessed a handful of arguments in town. Someone not happy with a purchase in the market, or another discontent with their placement or station. The Force addressed every episode swiftly, before it became a bigger matter. They use their watchful Eyes to remedy incidents immediately, assuring us that we live in a perfect society.

Most citizens are content living the fairytale life the king has created for them. I believe they are happy, in some strange way. But for all the wrong reasons. This is not how Camelot was ruled, by fear.

No one so much as gives a stern look to another. The king’s transmitted punishments suppress any thought of rebellion. We have been conditioned. It wasn’t possible that Mr. Levine was guilty of traitorous actions; we fear the consequences too much. And yet, he helped my father hide his illness. He probably helped others in the same way. Does wanting to care for sick people make you a traitor, though?

To King Hart and his Force, I suppose it does.

My hands sting. I curl my fingers toward my palm repeatedly, pumping my fists, attempting to alleviate the burn from the thorn scratches that cross my skin. There’s nothing to be done for the guilt eating away at my insides, though. It slices through me like a whip.

Had I not been elevated to this new station, Mr. Levine would be tending his shop this minute. The Force wouldn’t have been made aware of his actions if I hadn’t come to him for aid. I bow my head, wondering if there’s anything that will alleviate the shame I feel.
There isn’t
.

As Devlan leads me toward the lake, I stagger to a stop. A white bird lies dead before me, its wing broken. “That’s the second one I’ve seen.” I glance to the sky.

Devlan stands beside me and looks down at the bird. “A cleanup crew is needed,” he says into his silver communicator. “A bird—near the front of the lake.” He slides the device into his vest, then escorts me to the other side of the bank.

The wind ripples the surface of the lake, and I settle on the spongy grass. Where does the breeze come from? Is there a person somewhere in the castle pushing a button because a monitor says “cue pond ripple”? I laugh hollowly.

“Something amusing?” Devlan asks, unrolling a wad of gauze he took from the training grounds’ armory before bringing me here.

I take a labored breath, and try to quell the hysteria coursing through my system. I’m exhausted and angry and afraid, and all I want is to free my father and get the hell away. Instead of trying to explain this, I say, “Of course not. What could be amusing today?”

Settling down before me in the grass, he stretches out the gauze. “Let me see your hands.” I hold them out, and he gently wraps the thin material around each one, his head bent low. “When you’re asked”—his eyes flick to my face briefly—“you wanted to take some roses from the garden to your bed chamber, but you were impatient and didn’t use pruning shears.”

I crane an eyebrow. “You sound as if you’ve had practice inventing stories.” He turns his head away, and I study the side of his face. Stubble casts a slight shadow along the otherwise-smooth skin of his chin and jaw. “Sir Devlan, what was your station as first knight?”

He tucks the ends of the bandages in and places my hands in my lap, then looks at the ground and runs his hand along the grass. He finds a rock, stands, and shucks the stone out, skipping it across the top of the water. My chest tightens as I await his response.

In this moment, I miss Hadley’s constant chatter. My heart constricts, and I wonder whether she misses me, too.

“You know, Sir Devlan. Many women might find the quiet type endearing,” I say. “I admit, a man of few words has an attractive quality.” His head turns toward me. “But seeing how you’re one of the few people I have to converse with, your lack of conversational skills can be obnoxious.”

Taking two quick strides toward me, he stops a few inches from my crossed ankles and squats, balancing on the balls of his feet. His pale eyes shift into a darker blue, reflecting the lake. “Then I suppose I’ll have to remedy that,” he says, “considering His Highness has just assigned me as your personal guard.” His eyes take in my stricken features and I swallow. “Wouldn’t want to displease my charge, would I?”

“What—why? You’re the first knight. Surely there’s something more important Sebastian needs of you rather than being my watch dog.”

“I agree.”

Stunned, I part my lips to speak but nothing comes out. He presses on. “I was the knight commander. And as such, my duties were to train and command knights in combat and protect the king. But, since there is no war, no lands to conquer, I suppose after what happened in the arcade, the prince feels you’re the most valuable of his possessions in need of protection.”

His words weigh down on my shoulders like lead, sinking me farther into this cage. “Well, you have the possession part right.” I turn my gaze from his, looking to the water. A moment passes, and Devlan stands, putting distance between us.

Another wave of guilt washes over me. I’ve now had the knight commander demoted to a sitter.
My
sitter.

“I can be unseen,” Devlan says. “If that makes it easier for you.”

“Nay. That’s not necessary.”
And not in my favor
. He’s going to be watching me closer now. Not knowing his whereabouts would make running away more difficult than it already is.

Mayhap I’ve been going about this wrong. What if I should become the most undesirable girl in all of Karm? Would Sebastian still want to spend the rest of his life with a wife bent on making him miserable? He may show me past the castle gate himself. A smile twitches at my lips until I remember Mr. Levine’s cries. This is not a game.

Sebastian is prepared to take on that challenge, just as Madity claimed. His ego at breakfast verified my first assumptions of the vain prince. If he doesn’t put
me
in the torture device, then my actions may only succeed in making him want me more. The one girl who doesn’t fall all over herself to be near him. As Devlan put it, there’s no great war, no lands to conquer. Sebastian’s greatest conquest will be my affections.

Devlan interrupts my brooding as he kneels on one knee before me. “Princess,” he says, and glances toward the tree branches before continuing. “This is the one place in Court where the wind disrupts the amplifiers.”

“The listening devices?”

He nods. “I must tell you that your father is gone.”

“I know,” I say. “I watched—”

“No. He’s truly gone.” Lacing his fingers together, he cups his knee, straightens his back. “The Virus took him during the night. He was incinerated this morning.”

My heart plummets past my stomach. The nausea returns with renewed vengeance, and I gag, my swollen throat biting back the rising bile. Tears burn my eyes, then fall freely, scorching a hot path down my face. I wrap my arms around my stomach and rock.

I force myself to hold still. My body trembles with the restraint.

I must stay composed. I must stay composed
. I repeat this mantra because the Eyes are watching.

Devlan lowers his head, putting his gaze level with mine. “Princess,” he says, his tone cautionary. “You mustn’t fall apart. I’ve only told you this so you’ll dismiss any notion of fleeing.”