Fireblood

by Wolfe, Trisha

  I shrug. “How was I supposed to get up here?” I say. “Magically levitate?” My joke gets no reaction from him. Not so much as a muscle twitch. His eyes continue to study my face. His stare is cold and hard, off-putting.

  Finally, his eyes move from me to the jar. He unlatches the top and scoops the salve into his hand. “You have to think about every angle, every position, every way something can be done before the time to do it arrives.” He unfolds my hands, lightly running his thumb over the inflamed skin, then applies the ointment. It’s cold and greasy, but it immediately soothes, dousing the burning sensation.

  “Why are you telling me this?” I keep my eyes trained on our hands—focus on the feel of his rough palms working the salve into mine.

  He releases a heavy breath. “Because, it’s the first thing you need to learn before anything else. Even before riding a horse.” He takes my other hand and begins to treat it. “Be aware of your surroundings. Know what is around you and how to use it and your body in every situation. Even something as simple as getting atop a table.”

  “Sebastian didn’t mention that while training me to ride today.” Peeking at him through my lashes, I gauge his reaction to Sebastian’s name. “Wouldn’t that be something a prince would know?”

  “Princess, if things were handed to you all your life, and you never doubted they would continue to be, would you question how to attain them?”

  “Nay,” I answer simply. “I suppose not.”

  He bends down, grabs something from under the table, and comes back up with gauze. He wraps my hands thickly, one at a time, binding them tightly. “You seem unable to keep your hands in good condition.”

  I attempt to ball my fists, but can barely move my fingers. “How am I to eat, or do anything else for that matter?”

  He packs away the supplies. “You can remove the gauze tomorrow morning. The swelling should be gone by then.”

  I quirk an eyebrow at his strange word for the morrow, but tuck it away. Tomorrow. I like it. “Thank you.” I watch him saunter across the tent. “Devlan?”

  “Yes, princess?”

  “Will I be able to ride by the afternoon, then?”

  His shoulders slump. “Not if you’d like to be able to use your hands at all this week.”

  I bite down on my lip. I know I can’t continue to push, but I don’t have time to waste. Now that I have the code, I’m another step closer. “What if I only do as you said,” I say, tilting my head. “Learn how to use my body to mount a horse, rather than use my hands fully?”

  He turns toward me, his brow serious and furrowed. “Your determination is impressive, but I recommend waiting until next week.”

  I jump down from the table. “Fine. I’ll wait.” I head toward the front of the tent. “Thank you for tending to my hands…again.” I give him a weak smile, and push back the flap.

  “Princess.”

  I halt my retreat, but don’t turn to face him.

  “You have every intention of riding tomorrow, don’t you?”

  I nod, still not looking at him. “I do.”

  He nears me and steps through the tent opening. Sweeping his hand, he ushers me to walk ahead of him. “Then I have every intention of being there to make sure you don’t kill yourself.”

  ELEVEN

  Iimpatiently wait for Sebastian to join me for breakfast in the atrium. Today, my goals drive me forward. I’m anxious to be out there learning to ride, although the thought of Devlan teaching me knots my stomach. I pick at my bread and sausage rather than clumsily using my fork.

  Sebastian’s confession from yesterday buzzes around my brain like angry bees, thoughts stinging and swarming too loudly, making it difficult to think. It was easier to formulate an escape plan when he was merely a cocky, selfish jerk who wanted to take the throne.

  Hunger wins out, and I scoop the utensil from the table with a huff. My fork is pushing my link through the drizzled honey when Sebastian finally enters. Two members of the Force trail him. My stomach lurches. Suddenly my breakfast looks less appealing.

  Why are they here?

  “Sorry I’m late,” Sebastian says. “But there were matters to tend to this morning.” His face is hard and unreadable. He sits in the chair next to mine. Apparently the prince doesn’t have to abide by formalities. He takes a sip of water from his goblet.

  “Is everything all right?” I lower my voice. My eyes want to seek out the faces of the men who beat my father, but I keep them trained on Sebastian.

  He forces a smile. “Of course.” The servant places his breakfast before him. “I have joust practice today for the upcoming tournament. I would very much like you to be there.”

  The dry toast catches in my throat, and I swallow hard. “When is this?” It’s difficult to know how to behave toward him. If what he revealed yesterday was intended to alter my attitude toward him, his strategy is working. However, I haven’t forgotten that he was there overseeing the “questioning” of Mr. Levine.

  His brow lifts as if he’s surprised that I haven’t shot down his invitation. “This afternoon. At the training grounds.” He smiles, and his eyes squint. “Will you be able to attend?”

  As slyly as possible, I peek over at Devlan. He nods slightly, and I look Sebastian in the eyes. “I’ll be there.”

  “Wonderful.” He pulls my hand from my lap. While bringing it before him, he removes the gauze. “I see Devlan fixed you up nicely. We should be able to continue riding lessons soon.”

  I inhale a deep breath. “I’d like that.”

  He releases my hand and picks up his fork. “I’ve sent one of the servants into town to get you a woman’s saddle. You’ll be able to ride alongside me with your own horse soon.”

  My smile is authentic. “Thank you, Sebastian.”

  Through the rest of breakfast, the two crimson-clad knights of the Force remain positioned on either side of Sebastian. I wonder what “matters” he’s tending to. I want to trust that he’ll stand by his convictions. That he’ll change the rule of Karm when his father is no longer here to influence him—to intimidate him. In time, he very well could be a good king. The Force’s presence, however, affirms my fear that we may never see that day.

  Until I see proof of this change, I’ll continue to learn all that I can. I have a feeling I’m going to need to be at my best to survive Karm—whether I’m outside the walls of the castle or inside them.

  When Sebastian leaves early for the training grounds, I exhale heavily and slump in my chair. “I’m ready.”

  Devlan pushes off the glass window. “Then why are you still seated, princess?”

  I scowl at him, shove my chair back, and head for the door.

  * * *

  “Why can’t we take Hawken?” I pout as I look over Devlan’s black horse. She’s beautiful, but I already feel comfortable with Hawken, and Devlan’s horse intimidates me. Especially if she’s anything like Devlan.

  He adjusts the saddle, placing a pillion at the back. “Because,” he says, his voice deep and strained, “she is the prince’s horse. I’m not taking his horse when I have my own.”

  I wonder if Sebastian would truly mind, or whether Devlan just doesn’t want to ride his former friend’s horse. Regardless, I decide it’s smart to learn to ride different horses. I might not have a choice in which one I take. Best that I master riding in general.

  “Jericho will take Hawken to the field shortly anyway,” Devlan continues. “For the prince’s jousting practice.” He walks over to me and stretches out a strip of gauze. “Here. Let me at least wrap your palms.” I extend my hands, and he circles them each once with fresh bandage, leaving my fingers exposed. “That way, you can still handle the reins. I don’t want you losing hold of them.”

  “You truly have no faith in me.” A smile quirks up the side of my face.

  He huffs. “Princess, you are far too assured of your abilities. I praise your courageousness.” He secures the gauze, checks it doesn’t slip. “But I fault you that
you can be too rash and stubborn. Not letting your hands heal before you continue on will limit how much you can do with them.”

  Taken aback by his criticism, I square my shoulders. “I’ll have you know, I think long and hard before doing anything. I don’t make rash decisions.” Or else I’d have tried to escape by now.

  He crosses his arms, cranes an eyebrow. “You being here right now states otherwise.”

  My lips part to argue, but I can’t. There’s no way to convince him why I must learn quickly without revealing my goal. Though it burns my insides to let him win this debate, I focus my attention on the horse instead.

  I run my gauze-wrapped hand along the horse’s black coat. “What’s her name?”

  Devlan steps into the stirrup and mounts his horse. “Fireblood.”

  My brow shoots up. “That’s a fierce name. What does it mean?”

  He looks down and extends his hand to me. “Exactly what it implies; she has fire in her blood. She’s clever and fearless, burns with determination.” A crooked smile tugs at his lips. “And she’s stubborn as hell.”

  I hold his eyes for a moment, taking in their blue, penetrating gaze, then I latch onto his arm. He pulls me up, and I settle easily on the pillion, not slipping or sliding.

  “I could’ve used this pillion yesterday,” I say, smoothing my dress over my dangling legs.

  Devlan squeezes his legs and clicks his tongue against his teeth. Fireblood trots at his command. “Yes, well. I assume the prince liked the idea of having you as close as possible.”

  I notice the space between Devlan and me and decide that maybe Sebastian did like the thought. My face heats. “But this saddle still has no place to hold on to.”

  He’s silent a moment, then says, “You can hold on to me if you’re scared of falling. Or you can learn to balance yourself with the horse’s gait.”

  I scrunch my face, feeling like I’m being tested. “Will I fall if I don’t hold on?”

  He shrugs. “It’s possible.”

  I look at the ground. We’re not yet out of the fenced area, and Fireblood trots slowly. “I assume it will be painful.”

  “Yes, princess,” he says, no humor in his voice. “It will be very painful. You might even break a limb. At a faster pace, you could die.”

  My impulse is to wrap my arms around him. But I force my arms to my side, relax, and try to feel the horse’s rhythm. I won’t be intimidated by the first knight either.

  As we clear the open gate, Devlan kicks his heels and leans forward. Fireblood canters. I dig my fingers under the strap of the pillion and squeeze, wobbling from side to side. My bandages make it difficult to grip, but I’m satisfied that I’ve shown him up. I smile so wide my cheeks ache, until he kicks his heels hard and Fireblood springs over a divot in the ground.

  I yelp and latch on to his waist. Devlan doesn’t say a word, but I swear I feel him shake with laughter.

  After my ride with Sebastian yesterday, I figured bringing my dagger along wouldn’t be too difficult, as long as I secured it properly. The hilt now rests on top of my thigh, so it doesn’t dig into my leg. I’m only to learn how to balance today, which gives Devlan little chance of feeling the weapon on my person. A knot forms in my stomach. I’m taking a huge risk, but I couldn’t bring myself to leave it behind. Not when the thought of being alone with Devlan stirs so much anxiety. I need its comfort.

  Devlan heads us in the same direction Sebastian took me the day before. Once we near the wall, he veers away from the opening close to the meadow and rides farther toward the edge of the dense woods.

  He leans back and pulls the reins, bringing Fireblood to a quick stop. He allows me to slide down first. I land with an oomph. I still haven’t gotten used to the numbness that follows a hard ride, and my bottom is sore from yesterday.

  I run my hands along my cream dress. I should’ve worn a darker color. “So am I to learn to mount?”

  Not looking in my direction, he shakes out the reins and walks Fireblood over to a thin tree, where he loosely hitches her.

  “I don’t think I can learn to ride her if she’s tied to a tree.”

  Devlan turns on me. His brows pull together, his mouth sets in a hard line. “I don’t think, princess, you’ll be learning to do much of anything if you don’t gain some common sense.”

  He advances on me, and I step backward and stumble. I look behind me, searching for someone, anyone, but we’re alone. I meet his eyes when he’s right before me, my heart beating in my throat. “What are you talking about?”

  He shakes his head, runs his hand through his dark hair, and puffs out an annoyed breath. Then he stalks away from me through the line of trees.

  “Wait.” I glance around, confused, then chase after him. “What is wrong with you, Devlan? What did I do?”

  When I reach the wooded treeline, I’m only a few feet behind him. He spins around and pulls himself up to his full, intimidating height. His emotions aren’t masked like usual. His face is pinched, and a sneer lights his features with mock humor. “Come at me,” he orders.

  I open my mouth, then shut it.

  Glancing at Fireblood, I mark my steps. Can I outrun him? My hand hovers over my thigh, ready to hike my dress up and grab it if he takes another step closer.

  He makes a “come at me” gesture with his hands, curling his fingers toward his body. “Come on, princess. Take your best shot.”

  I drop my hand. “Are you serious?”

  “Very.”

  My stomach clenches as I step up to him and push his chest. “There. Satisfied?”

  He laughs gruffly. “Really, try to take me.” His lips curl into a rare smile, but it’s full of scorn. “Oh, what’s wrong? The princess doesn’t want to get her dress dirty?”

  I squint and fist my hands. Before I know what I’m doing, my hands come up and I swing at his smug face. He sidesteps all my punches. I groan, landing a blow to his shoulder.

  Instead of backing away like I expect, he steps into my punch. He grabs my shoulder and wraps his arm across my chest, bringing my back against his body.

  I squirm against his hold. “Get. Off.”

  He pulls me tighter to him, securing my arms to my sides so I can’t flail. His free hand reaches down and yanks up the hem of my dress. Panic spikes my system, and I go rigid with fear. As his hand roams the length of my leg, the feel of his callused palm against my skin fills me with alarm.

  This isn’t happening. No, no, no. “Stop!”

  His hand pauses along my thigh—and grasps the dagger.

  He jerks it from the leather sheath and holds it before me. “What did you think you would do with this?” He waves the blade back and forth. “Especially if your foe takes it from you.”

  I’m mute as I stare at my own dagger aimed at me. I attempt shaking my head in response, but my movements are jerky. I tremble, unable to get to my voice.

  He groans and pushes me away. I spin around and watch him examine the dagger. Frightened, I wrap my arms around my body. “How did you know?”

  “That is not the right question, princess.” His eyes look up from the dagger and pin me in place. “The correct question is, how did you expect to use this with damaged hands?”

  My forehead creases. “I don’t understand.” I nervously glance around at the trees. “The Eyes.” He’s exposed me. Any moment the Force will be here to arrest me. I spin in circles, searching for the opening along the wall. Where is it? I turn back toward Devlan and glare.

  He tosses the dagger at me and I barely catch it. “There are no cams here. You can stop fretting.” He nods to me. “Grip the hilt,” he instructs. “Tight as you can, as if you were facing an opponent.”

  Relief that I won’t be hauled off to the Oubliette spreads through me, and I breathe in the pine-scented air, regaining my wits. I try to grab the hilt as instructed, but the gauze and the ache from my sore palms prevent me from getting a good hold. “What the hell is your point, Devlan? What does this have to do with rid
ing?” Angry tears sting my eyes, but I blink them back.

  He takes a step toward me, and his voice softens. “A few more days of using the reins as per the prince’s teaching methods, and your hands will be a bloody mess.” He furrows his brow. “How will you then manage to fight off the Force when you can’t grasp your weapon?”

  Heat splashes my cheeks. I stare up into his blue eyes, so close now. “Why don’t you just hand me over to them now and be done with it?” I ask. “Or better yet, take me out yourself.”

  “You really aren’t as bright as you seem sometimes, Zara.”

  “Well you…” I trail off, forgetting the words of my rant. “You called me Zara.”

  He cocks his head. “You ordered me to do as such.” “But you never listen to me.”

  “Ha,” he mock-laughs. His features brighten with a twist upward of his lips. “Touché.”

  A tremor works its way down my legs, and I can no longer think with so much adrenaline coursing through my body. I walk over to a tree and lean against it for support.

  Devlan walks toward me slowly, his eyes trailing over me. “Yesterday,” he says, running his hand through his hair. “I knew yesterday when I sat you on the table.” He levels a look at me. “Bottoms are not supposed to make a clinking noise.”

  I squeeze my eyes shut, remembering his hard eyes on me, his probing stare in the tent. At least he didn’t expose me then. Why didn’t he? Why did he wait till we were away from the Eyes? “You don’t understand. I need to have it with me.” I open my eyes and stare into his. “It was my father’s.”

  Devlan takes three long strides until his tall form towers above me, barely inches between us. His eyes widen and he tips his head forward, looking at me through his dark bangs. “Your father’s.”

  I nod once. He doesn’t shy away at the mention of a Taken, so I continue. “Yes. It’s all I have left of him. Before he died, he gave it to me. He said it would protect me.”

  His eyes travel down my body to the dagger in my hand. He shakes his head. “Of course,” he says under his breath. “May I?”