by Trisha Wolfe
I turn toward Xander. “I need to go in by myself.”
He cups my shoulders, shaking his head. “No. We’re in this together. I’m not letting you do this without me.”
I smile at him, realizing how similar we are. “Yes, you have to. Or else this will end bad. Trust me.”
He sighs. “Give me a signal—something to let me know if you need me.”
I nod. “Okay, I’ll whistle.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “Whistle?” Then he nods. “It’ll have to do.”
I step forward, but he yanks me back, placing a hard kiss on my lips. I pull him closer as I commit to memory his scent of earth and fire, and something indefinably him. I slowly pull away, and the absence of his lips leaves mine cold.
I walk away without another word. If I look back, I’ll ask him to run away with me. I know this. So I keep moving forward. I have to face Micha, or we’ll be running forever. And in Karm, there’s nowhere to run.
The smell of campfire and sharp pine sap hits my senses, and it feels like home. Micha is my home.
The back of the tent is pitch black as I search for a loose seam. I finally find one and lift the brown fabric, crawling under. A candle burns low, revealing Micha seated at the desk.
“Hi, Mother,” I say, announcing my presence.
She stands, startled. “Fallon.” Then she sets down the dagger she has outstretched before her. “I didn’t—”
“Expect to see me alive?” I finish for her.
She holds up a small silver device. A communicator. “Larkin hasn’t reported back,” she says. “I knew you’d be coming.”
“And if he had?” I press my lips together, knowing the truth. “You had no faith in me. You didn’t trust me to make the right choice.”
A slow smile crosses her face. “You were given an order. There was no choice to be made.” Her voice is cruel, and her bright blue eyes cold, taking me in—sizing me up. “This was a big mission for anyone to take on. But you were the perfect agent.”
I nod once, annoyed. “Because I trusted you so completely. I wouldn’t question your judgment.”
“Yes,” she says simply.
“I’m not a child anymore,” I say, taking a step toward her. “You could’ve told me the reason. You can still tell me the reason. Why Xander?” I huff. “He’s not a threat.”
She moves toward the middle post of her tent, then learns against it. “But he is. He could ruin everything we’ve set into motion. It’s taken years to place our two plants in court. And Sebastian’s getting ready to wed. There will be many distractions—prime opportunities for us. And he could undo all of it.” She sighs. “He’s a liability we can’t afford.”
I shake my head. “I don’t understand. He’s nobody. In fact, according to your own agent, the Force was about to unknight him.”
Her eyebrows rise. “And with a motive like that, he could do a lot of damage in court.”
“Stop!” I shout-whisper. “I deserve to know the truth. I almost took a life tonight. One that had no reason to die.”
“Fallon,” she says my name like she always does, like she’s my parent. It makes me cringe. “He’s King Hart’s first son.”
The air leaves the room, and I gasp, trying to catch my breath. “No.” I shake my head. “You’re mistaken. Karm would be in an uproar if it were true.”
“It would,” she says. “If they knew.” She pushes off the post, taking a step toward her desk. “And no one will.” She pulls out a document from her desk drawer. “Before the virus took Xander’s mother a couple days ago, she left a confessional for her priest—one of my spies.” She hands the letter to me. I stare down at the shaking letters on the page as my hand trembles. Xander just lost his mother. It explains so much of his strangeness tonight.
As I study the page, I realize how big Micha’s web of secrets and agents has become. She has her hands in every facet of the kingdom.
The letter is addressed to Xander, and it explains how his mother didn’t want him to become a part of Hart’s vileness. It talks about a time when Hart had a vision to create a world safe from Outside, but how it turned into madness. How, after she became pregnant, she fled, hiding herself and Xander—Hart unaware of his existence. And of Hart marrying another to bear an heir to the throne. The words merge into blobs of ink on the paper before me.
“But,” I say, trying to gather my thoughts. “This could change everything. Xander could take over ruling the kingdom and change things from the inside. He could even take down the barrier—there’s so many . . .” I let my words hang, realizing the truth. “You don’t want change.”
“No. Our goal is to tear down Karm, destroy the dictatorship. Not simply change the order . . . or the ruler.” She picks up her dagger, twirling the hilt and digging the point into the desk. “And that plan is already in motion.”
I release the letter and it floats to the ground. “I understand. You want control.” My hands ball at my sides, gripping my once beautiful gown, now dirty and torn. “And once I killed for you, I’d have committed myself to the Rebels. To you.” I shake my head. “You’re just as evil as King Hart himself.”
“Fallon, it’s not easy to make these decisions.” She twirls her knife faster. “There are casualties in every war. We have to be willing to do what it takes.”
“No.” I take a determined step toward her. “We have to be willing to be above our enemies. We’ll never win this if we sink to their level, playing by their rules.” I get right up in her face. “In the end, we’ll be no different than them. And that’s not something to construct a new civilization after.”
Her eyes flick over my features. “I’m sorry to hear that. You were my favorite,” she says, then backhands me across my face.
I flop to the side, gripping my thigh for support. She grabs my hair, attempting to force me straight, her dagger raised, but I drop to the floor and I roll, losing a handful of hair. I kick her legs out from underneath her and she hits the ground on her back. I roll farther away as she grunts, getting to her feet at the same time I do.
I draw my dagger, and we circle each other. I hear the flaps rustle behind me, but I don’t take my eyes off her. Damn. I forgot about her guards.
“No,” she says to them. “I’ll handle her.” Then she lunges for me.
I block her blade with mine, and my arm strains as I force her dagger above her head. Then I spin and kick her in the stomach. She stumbles back, but then comes at me again. I duck as she swipes her dagger through the air. I bound up as she slashes again, her blade carving a deep gash across my chest.
A scream rips from my throat, and for a moment I don’t feel the wound, then it hits me like fire, searing. I fumble backward as she continues to attack, her dagger just grazing my stomach.
I back into the corner of the tent, my weapon held out in front of me, shaking. She trained me and knows all my moves. I know hers, as well, but she has years on me. And above everything, she’s like a parent to me. Even if I could best her, I don’t know if I could kill her.
“Did you ever love me?” I ask, hoping there’s another way to settle this.
She laughs. “There’s no room for love in this war, Fallon.” She slowly walks toward me, backing me father into the corner. “I thought you’d soon take my place. I raised you hard so you could lead after the virus finishes me.”
I squint. “You’re sick?”
She nods. “And I only have a few weeks left. I can’t believe I’ve invested all these years in you.” She spits. “I should have sent you on a mission years ago. If I’d known you’d turn into the sniveling child I see before me now, I’d have left you to wither in that damned farmhouse.”
The fire burning my skin sinks deeper, scorching my soul. Anger wells inside my chest, pumping adrenalin through my veins like blistering lava. “Don’t worry, Micha,” I say, the words like acid on my tongue. “You don’t have weeks. This ends now.”
I point my dagger out and wail, running toward her.
Our blades meet, and something takes over. I don’t feel the blows from our daggers, or the punches she throws. My body’s numb. My brain’s numb. I feel betrayed, abandoned. She tried to turn me into me into something evil, and all I can think is giving her what she wanted. A killer.
As I brace my blade against hers and we tangle our arms around one another, we stumble, each straining to get the upper hand. My arm gives, and I fall backward—her on top of me—through the tent flaps.
The cold dirt kicks up around us as we roll. I see the guards chasing after us, and I hear shouts of confusion as people rush from their tents and surround us. Finally, as Micha lifts to take a swing, I get leverage and bring my leg up, kicking her in the chest. She’s tossed back, and I get to my feet.
Taking a quick look around at the Rebels I grew up with, people I thought of as family, I see it in their eyes. No one comes to break up the fight. They know what I’m only just figuring out. Micha’s leadership is over. And they’re counting on the fearless girl, the one who hunts alone, to end it. But I don’t want her blood on my hands.
Then I see Xander at the edge of the forest. He’s making his way toward me, but I give my head a slight shake. If I fail, he’s in danger. His eyes meet mine. The deep, haunting eyes of a prince. And in this moment, I know I can’t allow Micha to continue her twisted plan.
She slowly picks herself off the ground, and I can tell she’s weaker. The virus is slowing her down, but she’s still a ruthless opponent.
She nods over to me. “Everyone knows the rules,” she says to the crowd. “You don’t finish your mission, you’re out.” She takes a step toward me. “Fallon has disobeyed direct orders. Take her to the holding tent. We’ll take care of it there.”
No one has ever been “punished” in public. It’s always a private, disgraced event. Micha knows she can’t kill me in front of all of them.
I wait for the guards to take me, still holding onto my dagger. I’m not going down without a fight. But when no one steps forward, I glance around at the still bodies. The guards are planted at the front of the crowd, and one nods to me.
I look at Micha. “I think it’s just you and me.”
She doesn’t reply, just stares at me, her jaw tight as she grits her teeth. Then we both lurch into action, coming for one another.
I lunge for her and she lands a punch in my stomach. Reflexively I lift my arm and our daggers slice the air. Hers swipes awkwardly and I block her arm with mine. Micha grabs the skirt of my dress and pushes off me with her foot, turning me sideways. The fabric tears as I struggle to get free. Damn dress.
I slash at the fabric and free myself of her grasp, but fall to the ground as I’m let loose. I land hard, my hand impaled by a sharp stick. She towers over me, her dagger aimed at my throat. I stare into her cold blue eyes as she bears down on me. Then at the last moment, I swing the stick, knocking her hand to the side, and sink my blade into her heart.
Her lips tremble as she drops her weapon and grabs mine, holding her hands to her chest. I’m frozen as I watch her drop to her knees. Her eyes are still locked on mine, then she tumbles to the ground. I back away from her.
My body shivers as my blood runs cold, wrapping me in ice sheets of panic. I killed Micha. The realization sucks the air from my lungs, and I gasp to fill them.
Then I feel a hand take mine. The person removes the stick from my hand, but I don’t feel the pain. I’m still staring at Micha’s limp body. They lift me to my feet. “You had to, Fallon,” the voice says. “She was going mad.”
I look at the person speaking. Silas. Micha’s guard. “She was the only—” I break off. It’s done, there’s no taking it back. “What do we do now?’
He steps over to her and kneels, then lifts her hand. He removes a silver band, twirling the ring between his fingers. The ring marks the leader. I assume he’s ready to accept that station, but then he stands and takes my hand, slipping the band onto my ring finger.
“Now,” he says. “You decide who’s your first in command.”
I search the trees, finding Xander. “Done.”
Chapter 5
Xander, Silas, and I stand around the dark mahogany desk, a map of the court laid out before us. I placed Silas in charge of battle strategy. And he points to a spot on the map.
“That’s the weakest area,” he says. “It has the fewest rounds. Guards only stationed for a couples hours at night, then two walk-bys. One at dusk, and then another in the early morning.”
I nod. “Then that’s where we need to get one of ours stationed,” I say. “They can grant us access to the castle when we need it.”
Xander clears his throat. “I think I might know of another entrance.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “Do you? The anomaly knight had access to this kind of privileged information?” I tease.
He stares down at me. “Of course not. But you discover things when you have hours to roam, and no one thinks you’re a threat.” He reaches inside his pants pockets and brings out a key ring. “And, I still have these.” He jingles the keys.
Silas laughs. “Brilliant.” He claps Xander on his back.
Xander cocks his head, leveling a look at me. “Will this mission involve seeing our fearless leader in another dress?”
Silas covers his laugh with a cough. “Excuse me.” Then he looks back and forth between Xander and me. “I can see you two want to battle this out. Find me when you have an operative for us to send in.”
I’m lost in Xander’s eyes, wanting to kiss his soft lips as soon as Silas leaves the tent, but then a thought springs to mind. “Wait.” I glance at the map. “Don’t we have someone on the inside now?”
Silas shakes his head. “Larkin was our only plant.”
Xander speaks up. “No, Fallon said Micha mentioned two in court.”
“That’s right,” I say. “Silas.” I look at him. “Please bring our good friend Larkin here so we can question him.”
After I was made leader of the Rebels two nights ago, I had Larkin brought back to the camp and placed in the holding tent. He couldn’t go back in as a plant, his loyalties were questionable. For one, he was furious that I was made leader instead of him. And two, he was even more furious that Xander was my first in command. But I couldn’t kill Larkin. That was the first of Micha’s rules I threw out. However, I couldn’t let him loose to cause trouble for us, either.
Silas grunts. “I hate that guy.”
“Yes, but he knows who we still have in court,” I say. “And hopefully this person will be of greater use to us than Larkin.”
“Agreed,” Silas says. “I’ll be back within the hour.”
After he leaves, I take Xander’s hand in mine and stare at our laced fingers.
“What?” Xander asks, brushing my hair from my eyes. “You look like something’s troubling you.”
I keep my eyes down, away from his. “Is this truly what you want?”
I gave him his mother’s letter shortly after Micha’s demise. Xander has had to face so many things all at once—his mother’s death, discovering Hart is his father, and the fact he’s a prince. More things than any one person should have to handle. He chose to join the Rebels and help lead us to a free world. However, I can’t help but wonder if he understands what he’s giving up by not claiming his birthright.
I release a heavy breath and ask him again. “Are you positive this”—I tap my chest, repeating the action he used with me—“is what you want?”