He reached for an olive from a bowl on the counter and popped it into his mouth, savoring its salty smooth skin before biting into its tender flesh. It was a bit like Arelanda, the olive—salty but with a tender core. Maybe it was a little like him. He hated himself for leaving but he knew there wasn’t another choice. If he stayed, they would all burn. She would be ruined. He would not be the end of the world. This was the only way to save them all.
He heard the sound of footsteps and instinctively reached for the knife at his hip. Iris emerged from the shadows a moment later with a worn green canvas bag over her shoulder. Her long hair was pulled back in a messy bun and her face was heavy with pain. She clutched a long steel knife as well, prepared for confrontation around any corner. When she saw Rogan, she relaxed.
“Iris,” Rogan said stunned to see her. “What are you doing here?”
Iris smirked.
“You think I’d really let my best friend run off in the middle of the night without saying goodbye?” Iris set down the bag. “Besides, I brought you some supplies for the trip.”
Rogan stood to embrace her.
“Thanks. Are you all right?”
Iris shrugged.
“I’m surviving.”
“Iris, what happened? How did they find us?”
Iris stared at the floor and sighed.
“Mikkel.”
Rogan’s eyes went wide and his stomach sank. He hadn’t wanted to believe they had been betrayed.
“What? You can’t be serious.”
“Extremely serious. Pantone bought him off. That old bastard did his research. Figured out who was vulnerable enough to turn. Mikkel is angry and frustrated. His da is drowning himself. The family’s barely getting by. He never thought we were looking out for him the way we should.”
“Unbelievable,” Rogan shook his head. “I never saw that coming. He was moody and volatile, but he’s Valley blood. How could he betray us?”
Iris shrugged.
“Money is a great motivator, I guess. Rumor is he’s the one followed you and the princess.”
Rogan’s stomach clenched in fury.
“You know about her?”
Iris met his gaze and toyed with a smirk.
“Rogan, everyone knows now. That was not a secret that was going to stay buried. I just don’t know why you couldn’t tell me.”
“It’s complicated. I couldn’t tell anyone. How did you find out?”
“After the attack, this woman came to see…to see Ben.” Iris choked out the words and Rogan fought back his own tears. “She was some council member and she met with Cable. She told him you were captured, but alive.”
“Brita,” Rogan said. Iris nodded. “Where is Mikkel now?”
“Protective custody somewhere. He won’t be able to hide forever, though. Cable won’t forget this.”
“So Cable knows about it all, too?” Rogan asked.
“He knows about Elyra,” Iris admitted.
“How did he take it?” Iris smirked.
“I think the words ‘you’re dead to me’ come to mind,” she laughed. “Don’t worry. He’ll forgive in time. It just came as a serious betrayal to him. He blames you for getting us all caught.”
Rogan nodded.
“I can’t blame him for that. Was anyone else taken that night?”
Iris shook his head.
“No, we all got out. Well,” her eyes went dark. “Most of us.”
“Who? What happened?”
Iris took a deep breath.
“Alec is dead.” Rogan’s heart sank. Ben and Alec both gone…it was too much.
“No,” he whispered.
“Bullet to the chest during the raid took him. We got him out, but he didn’t last long.”
“Sibby?” Rogan thought of Alec’s delicate twin with her pixie hair and wide doe eyes.
“She’s not good, I won’t lie. She nearly bled out from the gut shot. But she’s strong. She has us to get her through.”
Rogan thought about the blood on all their hands.
“God. Poor crazy ass Alec.”
“So you’re just going to run away?” Iris finally blurted out. “Because some girl got you into trouble?” Her face was a perfect mask of hurt.
Rogan had been waiting for the outburst. Out of everyone, he knew Iris wouldn’t truly understand.
“I’m not running. And she’s not some girl.”
“All those times you lectured all of us about staying and fighting for what was ours—and now you’re just going to disappear into the night and leave us?”
“It’s not that black and white,” Rogan sighed, still tasting her lips.
“What makes her so special? What makes her worth all this?” Iris’ face was red and tight. Rogan knew what this all must feel like to her. How could he expect her to understand?
“How can I explain that? What makes anyone worth it? I love her and that’s the only logic I know.”
“Would she do the same for you?”
Rogan shrugged, thinking about those wide green eyes heavy with the weight of the world.
“I don’t know. But I have no other choice.”
“There is always a choice.”
“I will be back.”
Iris scowled.
“Sure. Once you’ve reached the edge of the world and you’re a million miles from this horror, then you’ll be very motivated to return.”
“You think so little of me, doll? That I would simply abandon it all for my own safety? This isn’t about me. It’s about all of us. This is the only way to save everyone.”
Iris’ tightened expression relaxed.
“I think the world of you Rog. You know I do—you’re my best friend. But I just don’t understand. If this all means so much to you, if she means so much to you, why don’t you stay and fight for it? Fight for her. Why let them chase you into the shadows?”
“If I stay, there will be no fight. It will be a slaughter. If I stay, you will all go down for my crimes. My family will suffer. Elyra will be ruined and will never have the chance to right the wrongs of her father. If I stay, Pantone wins.”
“Not if we stand together. She can fight with us…”
Rogan put a hand on his friend’s shoulder and shook his head.
“No. Once they find me, it will all be over. My family won’t be safe, she won’t be either. The cause will be compromised. As much as it kills me to say it, my family’s and her only chance at survival is that jackass Fallon. He can protect them. And unless I go, he won’t do a thing. Let them think I’ve run like a coward. Never let on that any of you knew anything about my crimes.”
“This isn’t right. You’re going to let this Markus guy take the girl you love?”
Rogan thought about Markus’ well-manicured hands touching El’s smooth skin and he fought back nausea.
“It’s a sacrifice we both have to make.”
“I can’t imagine you not here. You’ve always been here—my whole life.” Iris choked back tears. Rogan pulled her close to his chest and squeezed.
“You’ll have Cable.”
Iris shook her head.
“It’s not the same. What am I supposed to do without you? Without Ben…”
“Be there for the rest of them. Be there for Lorena and Jasper. And protect Ari, especially from herself. We both know she’ll listen to you. She looks up to you.”
“You know I will.”
“And you have to be there for El,” Rogan said with a more solemn tone.
Iris scoffed and pulled away.
“Be there for the princess? Me?”
Rogan nodded somberly.
“She’s going to need friends. When I’m gone, she’ll be alone with no one to trust.”
“She has that Brita woman.”
Rogan shook his head.
“Brita is as dead as the rest of us if things go badly. She’s in no position to help Elyra. You have to be there for her. If things go badly—if Markus betrays her—you’ll need
to get her out. Promise me you will.”
Iris nodded.
“Yeah, okay, I promise. I’ll do whatever I can.”
“Thank you. Can you do me a favor? Talk to Lorena and Jasper. Explain why I had to go. I know they won’t understand, but try.” Iris nodded. “And Ari…make sure she doesn’t go down the wrong path.”
“That girl is tough as iron. You don’t have to worry about that one. But I’ll do what I can.” Iris sighed. “It will be strange with you gone.”
“It will be strange to not be here,” Rogan echoed. “When I figure out how to avoid being strung up in the city center, I’ll be back, ready to fight.”
“If there’s a city to come back to. As far as I can see, we’re all going down in flames.”
“Then I’ll be back with rain.”
EPILOGUE
Sometimes when she closed her eyes, she could smell him. Freshly picked fruit, rich soil and salty air lingered in her memory. But that’s all they were now—memories fading into the darkness of her past. She knew she wouldn’t hear from him, but it didn’t calm her anticipation. She hovered by her window as if she expected a white dove to fly in with a note declaring his safety and freedom. It was nonsense.
Twenty-two days. Not even a month since she had kissed him goodbye and watched royal guards tear him from her life. She had spent the last twenty-two days confined to her quarters, with no word from the outside world except for an interrogation from Pantone, who wanted to know how Rogan managed to escape the dungeons.
“I don’t suppose you can tell me how he managed to escape the depths of the city prison—from a windowless room buried three stories down? How, broken and bloodied, he managed to flee the custody of the Royal Guard?” He’d asked, sitting across from her with eyes like a corpse.
“How should I know? I’ve been locked away like a caged bird,” she said with a detached stare. Pantone narrowed those horrible eyes.
“Yes little bird. Keep singing your sweet little tune so the whole world loves you. But know that we WILL find him. Even if we have to burn down this entire city, your rebel is dead.”
The city would burn. She had no doubt about that. Elyra knew she was protected because of her position. She might remain a prisoner, but Pantone didn’t dare harm her if he wanted Markus’ help. But what of Brita? What of the cause? She had no way of even knowing if it persisted or if it had been crushed. Ada knew nothing and Markus would tell her nothing, citing that she did not want the truth right now. Her future hung by a thin thread of hope and its fibers were rapidly splitting.
A slow rap hit her bedroom door. The sound echoed like a horn of death. She didn’t move—just stared out the window into the city as the rays of sun bled into its crevices. She didn’t need to rise or properly answer. She had no more attendants to guard her privacy. They would enter if they pleased. The door creaked open and footsteps brushed through. The pinch in her gut told her all she needed to know. The time had come.
“Princess,” a voice said softly and sincerely. A voice she knew so well yet seemed a stranger here in her darkest hour.
“Don’t tell me,” she whispered, fighting back tears.
“I need to,” Markus said, walking to where she sat on the window seat. He touched her shoulder gently. She didn’t flinch. She would need to get used to his touch.
“It is a dream.”
“I’m so sorry, Elyra, but it is not. He is gone.” Markus’ voice was equally spiked with grief.
He had loved him too. Loved him like a father. Elyra nodded bravely. She had waited by the window every day, anxiously anticipating the news. She had dreamed of it and her aching soul had told her it was coming.
“And now?” She did not turn to face him. “I don’t suppose they have declared me Queen.”
Markus sighed and shook his head.
“No. Pantone maintains himself as acting regent. He stands by the charges against you.”
Elyra did not react.
“And my mother?”
“She is respectfully to remain dowager Queen but has been asked, or commanded rather, to retreat to the country estates and remain silent. Not that she ever pretended to do anything else.”
Elyra nodded. She didn’t expect anything of her mother. She wasn’t by her side during the good times—she hardly expected her to be during the bad.
“And you?”
Markus didn’t answer directly. He took her hand.
“I will maintain my position on the High Council and conduct business as usual until your charges are…reconciled.”
“Reconciled. And then?”
“As we discussed, as soon as you are ready…we will announce the engagement when the time is right.”
Elyra laughed despite his sincerity.
“As soon as I am ready. Of course.”
“You will need time to mourn. I know you don’t just cry for your father.”
She finally turned around and stared him hard in the eyes.
“And how long will you give me? A few days? Perhaps a few hours? We cannot let my father’s chair grow cold.”
Markus pursed his mouth.
“We made this decision together, remember? For the good of this country. For your own safety. For his safety.”
“Don’t you ever speak of him. Ever. You know nothing about him.”
“I know that Rogan is gone from Arelanda City. Probably out of Arelanda entirely at this point, and he cannot return. It’s over.”
Her heart sank a little deeper. She knew that it had to happen. She knew it was the only way to stay alive—she had told him to go—but part of her had prayed that he would not flee, but stay to fight for her. Childish hopes, she told herself. Stupid, selfish wishes from a stupid, spoiled girl.
“He had no choice. It is what we made him do. Pantone won’t leave him in peace. He would not have survived,” she said more for her own benefit than to convince Markus.
“Elyra, I cannot lie to you that it is all going to be all right. It isn’t. But I promise that I will protect you.”
“Yes. You’ll protect your investment I’m sure.”
Markus twisted his mouth in frustration but did not give in to her bait.
“You can see it however you want, but it doesn’t change the truth.”
“So if Pantone is King and I am dethroned, how do you suppose a Fallon son will ever wear the crown?”
“Pantone is old. He has no wife and no legitimate children. And he doesn’t claim to be King--only acting regent. If we play by his rules, I will be his heir. And you will still be Princess. You will still have a chance at ruling and seeing an honest council elected,” he said it sincerely but it made her shriek.
“Will you listen to yourself? You swear your love and loyalty to me, yet you happily step aside as Pantone takes my rightful place in my murdered father’s seat and promises you the crown if you keep me quiet.”
“Now it’s murder?”
“I do not doubt it,” she muttered.
“I know how hard this is for you. But you will not survive unless you act and think rationally. You can’t just stomp your feet and pout in the corner like a child. Your days of acting like a spoiled little princess are over.”
“Get out. I will have to see you more than I care to soon enough. Let me be alone to grieve.”
“Don’t pretend that this isn’t happening Elyra. I am the only thing that stands between you and a prison cell. You shamed your family and committed treason against your country. Don’t forget that. You did this to yourself. Be thankful that I love you anyway.”
She brought her palm to his cheek before she could reconsider and felt the satisfying sting of flesh on flesh resonate through her skin. He flinched but didn’t cry out.
“I’m sure I will soon have enough of that as well. But it will not change anything.”
“Just go,” she said through defeated tears she could no longer fight. “I want to be alone.”
Markus leaned in and kissed her forehead, lettin
g his lips linger on her skin. He stood and walked toward the door.
“We are going to survive this,” he said looking at her thoughtfully. “Pantone will not beat you. I promise you.”
She turned quickly to question him, but he was already one foot out of the door. She pressed a hand to her belly and the flicker of new life within it, and wondered how she was possibly going to survive.
The End of Book 1
About the Author
Amanda J. Clay is a California native. She studied English and Journalism at Chico State University and received a Master’s degree in Communications from California State University, Fullerton. Rebel Song is her first novel. She currently lives in the San Francisco Bay Area with her husband.
For any inquiries, please email [email protected].
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