“Why did you choose him?”
He turns and looks at me. “I’d like to say it was because he was the best knight. I mean, he is good, though his age is against him. But, I believe there’s a part of me that’s still weak. Wanting to repair the damage I’d caused between us, and…” He folds his arms over his chest. “Mayhap to have my friend back.”
I stand and join him near the water. The river rushes past the rocks, and the spray bounces off them. The mist chills my skin. “But he’s not your friend, though,” I say quietly, questioningly. “Not anymore.”
“No.” He dips his head quickly, then looks at me again. “Not in the same sense. At the time I advanced Devlan’s rank, my father told me I’d regret my choice. That I was foolish and needed to sever the side of me that makes me weak.” He laughs hollowly. His face darkens, and his brows pull together. “But, do our emotions and our feelings for others truly weaken us? Can’t they make us stronger?”
I look away from him, unable to answer this for him as I don’t have the answer for myself. “I don’t know,” I admit. “I was not raised to be a queen, nor do I know what it takes to rule, Sebastian.”
“I wonder this about myself some days.” He sighs. “Whether I have what it takes.” He steps closer, and my eyes find his again. “When you ran into the arcade and I saw the flame in your eyes—your action roused questions I buried long ago.”
My breath slips past my lips. “What questions?”
“Whether or not I can rule this realm more efficiently than my father without instilling fear. Can I change how it’s governed…and if I don’t, will I lose that which makes me human?” He bows his head, but not before I see his golden eyes darken.
After his admission, we’re both quiet. The trickle of the stream echoes around us, and the crickets have faded into a low hum, distant and haunting. “Why have you revealed all this to me?”
He turns and takes my hands in his. “You asked me why I chose you.” I nod once, hoping I’ll finally learn the answer. He takes a breath. “I’ve known you, Zara. Before I announced I’d chosen you during the transmission, even before it was known that I was to become betrothed, I knew you.” He leans in close to me. His arms touch mine. “I saw you on a monitor for the first time months ago. When I was being taught about Karm, and how I must know all that is going on in my kingdom, I saw you.”
The air in my lungs freezes and I can’t breathe. I fight to gasp air into my windpipe. Finally, I find my voice. “You spied on me?”
His face waxes over in panic. “No.” He shakes his head. “No. God. I only saw you passing through the streets of Town Square whenever you went.”
I release a strained breath. “That wasn’t very often.”
“It was enough.” He smiles. “You were beautiful, but it was more than that. The way you walked, carried yourself. Sure, but unsure. So quiet, yet you spoke volumes with only one look.” His eyes settle on my face. “There’s a silent strength in you. A strength I wish to possess for myself.”
Glancing away, I look at the river, not sure how to respond. What he saw on that monitor was not strength. It was a scared girl keeping to herself—frightened she’d be arrested by the Force. A girl hiding medicines in her basket. A girl only trying to save her sick father.
Sebastian presses on. “And my father knew. He knew.” He chuckles. “But I was too terrified to admit it for fear he’d order me to be with another, so that my feelings wouldn’t make me weak in his eyes.”
“Sebastian.” I whisper his name, unable to say more.
“I know.” He drops his head. “I’m really just a fool. My best friend, who I can’t even talk to, acting as my first knight. And the girl I fell for forced into a betrothal at the last minute. All because I can’t lose face in front of the king.”
My chest aches. I’d thought Sebastian had chosen me on a whim—that he simply wanted to become King quickly. “But if King Hart fears you’re making a rash choice,” I say, “how is it that I’m here now?”
“I refused to accept the throne.” He presses his lips into a firm line and creases his forehead. “I told the king I could not rule without at least having a chance at happiness. He instructed me to take you. To make my choice and be done with it.” His eyes scan my face. “I’d proven to him that I could be strong when I’d ended my friendship with Devlan, but I couldn’t keep myself from you, Zara. So, he caved on this one stipulation for me to take the crown.” He pauses. “I believe he took pity on me.”
Fear envelops my core. Icy fingers worm their way down my spine, and I shiver. Pity? I’ve heard many things about King Hart, pity never being one of them. But as I stare at Sebastian—open and vulnerable—I consider the possibility that a father, even one as frightening as King Hart, could find it within himself to grant his son what he wants of happiness.
Another, chilling thought spikes my blood. What Sebastian wants is me. If King Hart has agreed to Sebastian’s condition to rule the kingdom, my imprisonment is King Hart’s doing. I’m an ultimatum, a token of peace between them. King Hart will keep me here at all costs to ensure his only son takes the throne after him.
More so than Sebastian’s, I’m King Hart’s possession.
And I’m not going anywhere.
TEN
Sebastian guides me to the bank, settling us near the water. “I noticed you weren’t wearing my commitment gift today.”
My hand goes to my chest, my palm flat against my skin. Damn. I’d forgotten to pick it up off the floor this morning. Did Madity find it? Where is it now? Showing that kind of disrespect toward the prince surely won’t go unpunished. My hand shakes as I lower it to my lap.
I attempt to stutter out a response. Before any words pass my lips, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out the silver locket, dangling it before me.
My breath halts in my chest.
“Your maid found it this morning. She said the clasp had broken and that it must have slipped off during the night.” His eyes search mine as his fingers work the clasp. “I had it repaired.”
“Yes—thank you. I was going to have it fixed.” I plan to hug Madity the next time I see her.
He nods, but his eyes squint, conveying his disbelief. His lips tighten into a forced smile. “Zara, I know all this is not easy for you. Everything that has happened to you these past few days must be difficult. But, please allow me the chance to prove my affections for you are true.”
I swallow hard, and an aching lump catches in my throat. After everything he’s confessed, I can’t lead him to believe I’ll ever reciprocate his feelings. He’s battling internal demons over his rule of the kingdom. Even if one day my feeling could change, for now, I can’t add to that confusion. “Sebastian, I would like us to be friends.”
“Friends.” He spits the word as if it’s foul.
“Yes.” I force my shoulders back, gaining courage. “You don’t truly know me, and I don’t know you at all. Marriage arrangements may work this way for the era, but we don’t have to abide by them.” I suck in a breath. “We can be friends instead.”
His eyes travel over my features, and he bites down on his bottom lip. I become nervous that I’ve gone too far, until he says, “For now, Zara.”
My mouth parts. What was I expecting him to do? Call off the betrothal? Open the gate and allow me to walk out? He’s the prince and used to getting his way. I’m back to either convincing him that he doesn’t want to wed me or seeing my escape plan through.
“Come.” He jars me from my strained thoughts, handing me the necklace and helping me to my feet. “We have little time for your lesson if we want to make it back before your maid sends out a search party.” He laughs, and like that, his voice is frivolous and light. Though now, knowing all that I know, I can hear the hesitancy in it, too, the concern that I may never return his feelings.
I turn, my hand clutching the silver locket, my mouth opening to say what I must. “Sebastian.”
He stops but doesn’t face me. “Y
ou don’t have to say anything,” he says. “Just…just give us time. Before you decide to loathe me forever.”
I clamp my mouth shut. I don’t know how I was going to convince him that I can’t be here. That I don’t belong. That even though he believes he has these feelings for me, he can’t possibly.
I don’t know for sure if he’s his own man or the king’s son—and the answer to that determines everything.
So I let it stand. No more words between us. At the very least, I can let him salvage some dignity after baring his soul as he did. It can’t be easy for a man raised to be a king to admit the things he did. Not in this era, and especially not one brought up by King Hart.
After we’re on the other side of the wall, Sebastian unties Hawken and steps into the stirrup, then climbs atop. He lowers his hand to me and I take it, easily mounting the horse with his help this time.
He cocks his head to the side, saying over his shoulder, “Lend me your arm.”
“Why?”
He releases a tense breath. “I see we’re back to questioning everything.” He shakes his head. “Just…here.” He reaches back and takes my arm, then pulls me to the side where he can grasp me fully around the waist.
“What are you—” My sentence is cut short as he hauls me to the front of the saddle, turning me to face the front. “Oh.”
“You can’t learn to ride from the back,” he says. “Now, take the reins.” He places them between my palms and I grip them, my hands clammy. “Hold on tightly. But not so tightly you can’t adjust them if you need to.”
I hastily nod my head, my spirits soaring. I’m learning to ride. “How do I know when to adjust them? And what does that mean?”
His arms reach around me and he rests his hands over mine. “Like this,” he says, positioning my fingers into the correct hold. “Now lightly press your heels into her side.” I do, and Hawken snorts and trots forward. “Let’s keep her at a steady pace.”
We alternate walking and trotting for about half a mile over the grassy plain just outside of the forest. I’m getting a feel for how the horse moves. Though we travel at a slow pace, I can feel the power in her stride. I’m tempted to give her a kick and gallop her—feel the wind sweep over my face and break away, farther from the court grounds. It’s electrifying.
“You ready to really ride?” Sebastian asks.
I am. My insides dance and quiver. I’m nervous, but I want the rush. “Yes.”
He laughs and takes my hands in his, then kicks his heels, leaning us forward. Hawken takes off and panic spurs my chest. Soon we’re moving so fast I don’t have time to think. The world comes at me in patches of green and blue as we bound across the plain. Sheer adrenaline pours through me, and I laugh out loud.
After we switch gaits, circling the plain a few more times, the sun begins to dip below the trees. Sebastian takes the reins and heads us back toward the castle. My elation ends, my stomach plummets. For a moment out here, with the wind in my face and open fields all around, I actually forgot where I was.
Now, I remember I have to go back.
As we ride up to the stable fence, Devlan opens the gate for us. A mixture of emotions passes through me, though I’m not sure I can pinpoint what they are. Sadness, regret for the loss of his parents. Admiration for his determination to become a knight, regardless of his treatment from Sebastian. Curiosity for who he really is, and why he came back here.
None of these are things I can ask him without revealing what Sebastian told me, and I feel that what is between them is private.
We sidle up next to the stable entrance and Devlan strides over to meet us. “The princess’ maid has been in an uproar that she’s been injured or lost.”
Sebastian laughs. “Well, the princess is back and in one piece. Her maid can relax.” I scoot forward so he has room to swing his leg over and dismount. He gives me a wink, then turns toward the glass door. My breath hitches as he inserts his key, and from my perch atop the horse, I see him enter his code: 2016.
The first year of the Final War.
Devlan extends his hand to me, his face drawn. “I had best deliver you to Maid Madity before she threatens to remove my limbs again.”
I accept his outstretched hand, attempting to rein in the smug smile that wants to overtake my face at having found out Sebastian’s code. I bounce off the horse, landing on my feet, which is quite different from the way Sebastian helped me down. As if Devlan’s trying to touch me as little as possible. Jumping off the horse isn’t as bad as I thought. I decide I can do it by myself from now on.
As he releases my hand, I wince. “Ow.”
“What?” Devlan says. “Are you hurt? What hap—” He stops short and eyes Sebastian.
I look between them, surprised at Devlan’s brash outburst. “Nay, I’m fine,” I say quickly, drawing their eyes to me. “My hands are just rubbed raw from the reins.” I press them together and they throb, hot and aching.
Sebastian takes my hands, turning them palm up. Bright red skin covers my palms and fingers. “Madity can fix a solution that will help.”
I nod, and Devlan takes one of my hands out of Sebastian’s grasp. He stares at the red flesh. “I’ve worked with horses a long time,” he says, not looking up. “I know something that will keep them from blistering.” He drops my hand as he looks at Sebastian. “With your permission, of course, Your Highness”
“Of course, Devlan,” Sebastian says. “See that Zara is taken care of.” He looks at me. “The lessons can wait until you’ve healed.”
My lips parts. “I’m fine. Honestly. I wish to continue my lessons.” My voice sounds more pleading than I’d like.
Sebastian grunts, a low rumble in his throat. “It could end up causing an open wound and becoming infected.” He eyes me. “We’ll wait till you’re better.”
“Come, princess,” Devlan says before I can argue further. “The prince is right.”
My shoulders slump, and even though I want to ensure that I’ll be training on the morrow, I follow behind Devlan as he walks away. I won’t win this right now.
Once we’re outside the fence, Devlan closes the gate and waits patiently for me to walk ahead of him. This time, I do so without debate. I don’t know why he’s chosen to be a knight, but my complaints about being treated like a princess now feel petty, at least compared to what I’m sure he’s dealt with over the years on his own, here at Court.
“Where am I going?” I ask as I wander toward the castle.
He walks up beside me. “The training grounds. There are salves and ointments the knights use during training.” He points behind the castle and off to the left. “Your hands will callous over in time.”
I huff. “But not overnight.”
His head darts in my direction. “Nay. Not overnight, princess.” His gaze bores into me, and I nearly stumble as I lock eyes with him.
Regaining my balance, I return to watching the ground. I can feel that either the ride or the dismount has worked my dagger around toward the back of my thigh. I’m through with my lessons for the day, though. It shouldn’t cause me any bother.
We don’t talk again until we reach the green tent. It sits at the far end of the grounds, past makeshift risers and a two-foot high, bricked-in showground. He holds back the flap for me and I walk inside. Large metal weapon cases decorate the sides of the tent, and tables topped with swords and armor clutter the open area. I’ve never seen so many weapons. Ever. The fact that they’re not permitted in Karm, at least not in the hands of regular citizens, and they’re so abundant here, causes me to shudder.
“It’s overwhelming,” Devlan says. “I know. When I first saw the armory, I couldn’t believe all the weapons were right out in the open.”
I glance around. “How is it possible?”
He walks toward one of the metal sword racks and unlatches the keychain from inside his vest, then unlocks the door. After pulling out one of the heavy-looking swords, he walks back over to me. “Here.” He holds th
e blade out, aimed toward the ground. “Run your finger over the edge.”
I mock-laugh. “I don’t think so.”
Devlan’s lips turn up on one side. Gently taking one of my injured hands, he looks into my eyes. “Trust me.” He runs my finger along the blade’s edge.
“No,” I snap, but soon realize I’m not cut. I choke out a strained laugh. “It’s dull.”
“We’re not to train with actual swords.” He walks back to the metal case. “And these are used in the tournaments. Except for the last tourneys, when the stakes are raised.”
He rummages through a cabinet and stalks back over with a glass jar full of some clear, wiggly liquid. Setting it down on a large wooden table, he motions me over with a cock of his head.
“I can take care of it,” I tell him, reaching for the salve.
“No.” He takes my hands in his, guiding me toward a bucket below the table. I lower into a hunch as he dunks our hands in freezing water. “You have to cleanse first. But never with soap.” He turns his head to look over at me. “Soap will dry it out and cause the skin to tear.”
I flinch and try to ignore the stinging pain in my hands. As Devlan watches my face closely, his dark hair falls over one eye. I’m tempted to push it aside. He lifts my hands out and towels them off. I turn my hands palm up, waiting for the salve. Devlan only stares at me.
“What?” I ask.
He pats the table. “Hop up, princess.” When I raise an eyebrow questioningly, he explains, “So I can see your hands. Your stature makes it difficult to inspect them clearly in the dim light.”
My face flushes. “Is my height really that bothersome?” I step to the table, press my hands to the wood to lift myself up, and immediately wince.
“You’re going to have to work around your height limitations, princess.” He grasps my waist and lifts me onto the table.
I try to avoid his eyes, but his face is right before mine. He places his palms on the table, on either side of my legs, tilts his head, and studies me.
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