Fireblood

by Wolfe, Trisha

  “For one, you to stop calling me that.”

  He doesn’t respond, only continues to stare at me, waiting for another response.

  “I don’t know. I used to love taking care of the newly cloned animals on my father’s farm. Is there any wildlife here? Do you have livestock or something?”

  He nods. “We have a stable. Horses.”

  My chest flutters. We tended to cows and pigs. Sometimes ducks, rabbits, and other small animals. But never horses. I’ve never ridden one. The thought excites me and gives me a new idea. Escaping on foot probably isn’t wise. I’ll need something fast.

  My insides are shattered, and I could disappear into myself—lock myself away in my chamber. Instead, I will focus my anger and forge a plan.

  I look Devlan in the eyes. “Show me.”

  * * *

  The air is a mix of damp hay and meal. It pricks at my nose, and I feel at home. I take a deep breath, and fresh tears brim my eyes. I push the pain deeper, further from my consciousness. My hands slide along the wood railing as Devlan leads the way to the stable. For once he’s not behind me. He’s off to my left, and points as he navigates my course.

  “You won’t be able to come here alone.” He glances my way. “There’s a code.”

  My eyes slip over him, taking in his lean but well-built physique. He’s probably even stronger than he looks. “And I take it you won’t give me the code.”

  “Nay.”

  “Of course.”

  We continue our trek and the stable comes into view. It looks like a regular wooden structure. As we get closer, I see the shatterproof glass doors that are also throughout the castle. Although it looks like mere wood, Devlan’s words to me in the maze remind me that solid steel is between those walls. Nothing could penetrate it or the castle. I study every inch as we step up to the door, looking for a flaw in the system.

  Devlan’s key chain jangles as he unhooks it from the inside of his uniform. His fingers pick out a large, rusted key, and he inserts it into the keyhole on the side of the stable. A glass latch pops open revealing a dial pad, and he maneuvers in front of me, blocking my view as he enters his code. He steps back, and I flinch when a green beam shoots out from the top of the door.

  “Hold still,” he says. “It’s just scanning your image.”

  I nod, then stop. Hold still. The light scans over my face and moves down my body. Through tight lips, I say, “Is this necessary? For horses?”

  His face hardens. “Court horses are of great value.”

  I frown, wondering who would be stupid enough to try and steal the king’s horses and go against the Force. A shiver skitters down my spine. I suppose that’d be me.

  The doors slide apart, and Devlan walks between them first. I hesitantly follow, my eyes sweeping the entrance. Not only would I somehow have to figure out the code, I’d have to snatch Devlan’s key ring. There doesn’t seem to be another way. I glance to the far back. The stable is completely enclosed. No other door. Hell.

  I look around and notice the cozy stalls and feel a little better. Like my father, I love animals, and couldn’t bear it if they were kept in a harsh environment. As I continue to look, I’m reminded of my enclosure, and suddenly feel like I’m not the only prisoner in Court.

  The horses nicker as we walk past. They seem strong, fierce, graceful. One catches my eye. I can’t tell if it’s a boy or girl, but it’s beautiful. Solid white with a long creamy mane.

  “Her name is Hawken.” Devlan steps up to the stall’s gate. He stretches his hand out, palm up, and Hawken sniffs it.

  “She’s gorgeous.” I remove the gauze from one hand, slip it beneath the sash of my gown, and mimic his action. Her nostrils take in my scent, tickling my palm as she snorts. A small laugh escapes my mouth.

  Devlan withdraws his hand and leans against the side of the gate, watching me. I become brave and stretch out my other hand, reaching for the soft hair just above her eyes. She blinks once, then nuzzles her head closer to me. My cheeks tingle as my smile widens.

  “She likes you,” Devlan says.

  I giggle a little as she nudges my hand. “I like her, too.”

  From the corner of my vision, I notice that Devlan continues to watch me, not Hawken. Suddenly self-conscious, I pull my hand back and press it to my dress.

  He clears his throat, finally moving his gaze from me and back to the horse. “That’s the first I’ve seen of your true smile.”

  An ache lodges in my throat. I know I must act unaware of my father’s death in front of the Eyes, but it’s tearing at me to perform. I pull back my shoulders, lift my chin. Devlan risked much by telling me of his death. I owe it to him to hold strong.

  The first knight probably loathes himself for showing weakness, for dropping his guard and giving in to my tears. Even now, I’m hungry for him to acknowledge me in that very real way again, though I know that will never happen. He was the commander. Before I ran into the arcade, his station was far more significant than watching over a princess. He simply wants me compliant—a burden-free charge.

  He’s not my friend. He’s my guard. I’m alone here, with no confidant. However, he’s helped me more than anything, anyone, as I’ve resolved to be strong—to not let them break me.

  And to find a way out.

  For a moment, I pretend my smile affects him as much as my pain did. But when I look up into his pale blue eyes, his armor’s in place, and I know I’ll never see that emotion again. He’s a knight. He has no reason to want my happiness.

  This morning, I thought he was threatening me. I might be mistaken in assuming his warning before I entered the atrium was meant for my benefit. It may have been for his own preservation. He doesn’t want to answer to King Hart for my disappearance.

  At the thought of encountering King Hart and his Force, a fierce shudder rocks my body. When I do leave, it must be for good.

  I step away from the railing and walk toward the back of the stable. “Whose horse is she?” I look over my shoulder.

  Devlan pushes off the gate and trails behind. “Prince Sebastian’s.”

  Of course. He would have the most stunning. Something he feels possibly equals his own beauty. “Will I have my own horse to ride, then?”

  “I’m sure the prince wouldn’t mind sharing Hawken with you,” he says. “At least while you learn to ride. Then he’ll give you any horse you desire.”

  “Who’s to train me to ride?” I glance around at the other horses. Fine animals, though not nearly as gorgeous as Sebastian’s.

  “We have a stable hand. Jericho. He could be your instructor.” The thought that I might be alone with only a stable boy and not a guard crosses my mind. I’m nearly giddy until Devlan says, “I’d also monitor.”

  I deflate. There has to be some way I can manage being alone. There are too many complications and not enough solutions. My chest constricts, and I press my palm to my breastbone.

  I turn around and head back toward the entrance of the stable. Ready to pry a little deeper and try to unearth some knowledge about my riding lessons, I open my mouth, but a crackling noise cuts me off.

  I spin around as Devlan brings out his communicator. “Doesn’t that defeat the purpose of King Hart’s illusion?”

  His lips purse and his eyebrows pull together. “It’s necessary,” he says to me, then into the circular device, “Devlan.”

  Static hisses, and a deep voice booms over the transmission. “Princess Zara is needed in her chamber.” A beat. “Her maid is making preparations for tonight’s ceremony.”

  “We’re coming now.” Devlan places the shiny device back inside his uniform.

  I press harder against my chest, wishing I could reach inside and stop the pressure—stop my body from responding to the fear that overtakes me when Devlan announces, “It’s time.”

  SIX

  The hallway leading to my chamber is somehow colder, emptier, and shorter. It takes me far less time to reach my room than before. My mind fruitlessly
searches for a way to stall for time as Devlan walks silently behind me.

  My stomach knots as understanding settles over me that I have no way out of the betrothal ceremony. For now, I must go through with it, and then plan an escape before the wedding.

  I reach for the silver handle of my door, but Devlan’s hand gently grasps my wrist. My entire body freezes. Even my breath doesn’t dare stir the air.

  He spins me toward him, his face a mask, unreadable. Turning my gauze-free hand over, he spreads my fingers open as he places something cool and heavy in my palm.

  A communicator.

  I look up questioningly as he retracts his hand, resting it on the pommel of his sword. “It’s set to my frequency,” he says. “If you should ever need anything, just press the button to summon me.”

  “Sebastian fears for my safety this much?” I rotate the contraption and rub my thumb over its sleek silver.

  He doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, he clears his throat and transfers his weight from one foot to the other. “Nay,” he finally says. “This is from me.” My eyes look up in time to catch him drive his hand through his tousled dark hair. “Just in case you should want for anything, and…it’s not much, but it’s my present to you. For your birthday.” His eyes shift, glancing around the corridor. Looking everywhere but at me. “What I have to offer you.”

  With all of today’s happenings, I’d pushed the thought of my birthday far from my mind. A pang hits my chest as I realize the death of my father will forever taint the celebration of my birth.

  As I continue to caress the device, heat builds in my core, spreading warmth throughout my body. Devlan is trying to salvage some small joy of this day. Mayhap there will be a time when the wound isn’t as fresh. “Thank you,” I say. “This is kind, Sir Devlan.”

  He adjusts his stance again, looking uncomfortable. Then he nods a half-bow. “It will be an honor to serve you, Prin—” his lips curl into a rare smile “—Zara,” he finishes.

  Before I have time to fully acknowledge the tingles prickling my skin, he turns on his heel and heads down the hallway. My stomach quivers, and I’m struck with the realization that his gift to me was not what I hold in my hand, but rather the flicker of emotion I saw in his eyes—my name on his lips. His offer of protection.

  A slow smile sneaks onto my face as I slip the communicator beneath my dress, between my bodice and chest. I open the door. Madity is racing back and forth, gathering lace and ribbons. I sigh, my mood dimming. No, today’s not a celebration.

  Sebastian needs to be recognized as a man before he takes the throne. This ceremony is a display—a show for his father and Karm. This is Sebastian’s proof he’s ready to rule despite his youth.

  How old is Devlan? Is he younger or older than Sebastian? He seems too young to have obtained such a high station so quickly. But then, how old does the knight commander need to be in a world lacking outside threats?

  “Princess,” Madity says, her breaths coming in pants. “What happened to your hands?”

  I take in her panicked state and shrug. “Roses?”

  She grimaces; a disbelieving look crosses her face. “We have much to do.” She drops the ribbons on the bed. Her weathered skin shines with sweat. “We have to prepare your bath of oils and potpourri. We have to pluck—”

  “Absolutely no plucking, Madity,” I cut her off. “I’ll remove what hair I wish with a scrub.” Honestly, sometimes the era is just cruel.

  She scrunches her face and points toward the bathing room. The line between her eyebrows deepens, and she purses her lips, daring me to argue with her no-nonsense task of readying me for the ceremony.

  For her sake, I surrender. I don’t want to get her into trouble, or possibly punished for my stubbornness. I sigh and march into the bathing room. I’m in for a painful transformation.

  * * *

  The archway is dark. A curtain of midnight-blue velvet is the only thing separating me from the hall of citizens awaiting the betrothal of Prince Sebastian and his chosen princess.

  My face flames. A mixture of anger and embarrassment causes my heart to beat faster, my blood rushing through my veins, as I think about meeting Sebastian at the altar. I’ve not heard from him since my display in the arcade. I’m sure he’s plenty vexed, but apparently not enough if I’m standing here now, readying myself to become his betrothed. I fear I’d have to humiliate him far worse for him to call off this engagement.

  Fury pools in my stomach like fiery lava as I remember his cruel words to me in the inner ward. I try to douse it, reminding myself that I can’t show my revulsion for the prince. Not with all of Karm watching. I bury his words, and the knowledge of him depriving me of my last moments with my father, deep inside.

  I must get through tonight.

  Madity stands next to me, her sure hands fidgeting with the lace backing of my gown. The skirt flows to the floor, leaving a trail of white satin behind me. The long white sleeves connect at the lace-trimmed bodice, leaving my shoulders bare. It’s more skin than I’ve ever shown in public, and I continually tug at the sleeves, trying to pull them higher.

  Back in my chamber, Madity applied a beige cream to my hands to conceal the scrapes. My hair was worked into a braided halo around my head with white satin ribbon woven through, achieving the angel effect Madity strove for. She outdid herself. Even I didn’t recognize myself in the mirror.

  Though this is merely the engagement, proof to God and everyone that we intend to marry, it’s taken quite seriously. A robed friar awaits me at the altar. He’s to bless us, confirm our intentions to marry, and cry the banns, asking if anyone knows a reason for us not to be united.

  I imagine Hadley springing from her pew and denouncing the betrothal, but that’s a ridiculous thought. Even if she wished to do so for my sake, she can’t, not without putting herself in danger. I harbor no false hope of anyone speaking out against this union.

  My head swims as Madity gives my dress one last fluff, then turns toward the little boy holding my commitment gift to Sebastian. A round, silver locket that he’ll clip to his vest. And inside it, a lock of my hair.

  “Remember to stay to the right,” she tells the boy. “Just behind Princess Zara.”

  He nods while yanking on the collar of his blue vest, looking as uncomfortable as I feel.

  Madity disappears down the corridor, and in a few moments, returns with a thin, silver band. A crown. From here on out, I’ll be expected to wear it. I bow my head for her as she gently places it over my braid. One small blue jewel drips from its center, resting against my brow.

  “You’re breathtaking, Zara,” she says. “I mean, Princess Zara.” She bows once, then turns and joins the other help standing along the back wall of the hall.

  I self-consciously rub my leg, wanting to feel my dagger, but the itchy material of my garter chafes me instead. I hid the dagger in my chamber. I’d not bring my father’s weapon into a room full of the Force. I consider myself brave, most days, not stupid, but I need the feel of the dagger pressed against my skin, its comfort. Though it hasn’t been in my possession long, I feel strangely like a piece of me is missing.

  Taking a deep breath, I face the blue velvet curtain as it begins to part. An orchestra of mandolins, flutes, and drums fills my ears—it’s my cue. I take a shaky step forward, my legs numb.

  Row upon row of commoners and nobles are seated in the pews. Their dress is all in shades of blue and gray, complementing the blue and silver tapestries draping the white stone walls. Tall candelabras line the walls and either side of the altar, and the glow of their small flames creates an illusion of warmth despite the cool air of the large hall.

  As I walk past the citizens of Karm, I feel their eyes on me. I ball my hands into fists as the girls I grew up with snicker. Their envious glares disarm me, but when I spot Hadley—the worry in her dark eyes, the frown marring her always smiling lips—I’m nearly undone. She mouths the words, “Are you all right?”

  All I can man
age is a quick nod. Her lips lift into a small, heartened smile, and I’m two seconds from running straight to her when I catch Sebastian’s gaze. His eyes find and hold mine, then his lips spread into a beautiful smile and his face lights up, the soft glow from the candles adding to the effect.

  I must get through this. Then I can find my best friend again.

  His dark blue vest is embroidered with silver. A fitted gray tunic beneath displays his well-defined arms as he stands tall, his shoulders back. The blue-jeweled hilt of his sword stands out against his silver belt. Blue is the color of purity. I inwardly cringe. He should be wearing any color other than blue. Pure is not how I’d describe the haughty prince who oversees horrific punishments. However, he could be wearing it for another meaning…

  The thought makes me stumble, but I quickly catch and right myself. I’ve always assumed, with the maidens pining after him, that he must be experienced. Surely he is. However, at least I don’t have to worry about the wedding night at this time.

  What does upset me is I’m about to have my first kiss. With Sebastian. It won’t be like I’ve always imagined: with someone I care for. It will be shared with the man who’s trapped me here, who tore me away from my father and my home.

  For a moment, my eyes drift toward Sebastian’s first knight, at his left. Devlan’s pale blue gaze meets mine, and my stomach plummets to my feet. His eyes glisten with intensity, as if he’s urging me forward with his stare alone. His features harden suddenly. I’ve yet to read him well, but it’s as if he’s battling some internal conflict. More likely, he’s reminding me that I’m his charge—that I better not mess up, for his sake.

  When I reach Sebastian, he extends his hand to me. I stare at it, transfixed, remembering the feel of his hands as they crushed my arms. I force myself to take it. It’s warm and uncallused. He guides me to kneel with him before the altar.

  His eyes sweep over me. “Beautiful, Zara,” he whispers. “You’re my vision.”