A hollow laugh escapes me. “You’re asking now to take it?” He doesn’t answer. His face is set serious. I loose a heavy breath and hand it to him.
Backing up a few steps, he flips the dagger and grabs the hilt out of the air, then runs his thumb along my father’s engraved initials. “It’s a fine weapon.” He studies the blade and the small crest of the eagle and sword along the side. “And he was right to give it to you.”
I drop my gaze to the ground. “I don’t even know how to use it.”
“Sometimes,” he says, moving closer and handing it back to me, “something’s symbolism is more important than its use.” I want him to explain his theory, but before I get the words to leave my mouth, he continues. “When are you planning to make your great escape?”
I shrug my shoulders, ashamed. “I don’t know.” I cross my arms over my chest. “Things are complicated now.” I don’t know why I’m admitting this to him other than that it feels right to reveal some of the secrets weighing on my soul. My life is in his hands. He can turn me over to Sebastian, King Hart, the Force, and all will end badly for me. At least I can state my case here and now.
“Sebastian,” he says simply. His lips twist into a knowing grin. “He does care for you.”
I recoil at his bluntness. “He thinks he does.” The rough bark of the tree scratches at my bruised backside. I push away and sit in the pine straw instead. “That sounds terrible to say, but he doesn’t know me.”
Devlan joins me on the ground. He draws his leg up and rests his arm on top of his knee. “Maybe. But I’ve seen the way he looks at you. And behaves around you. He’s different.” He tosses his dark bangs out of his eyes. “You aren’t just another Court girl to him.”
Leveling a serious look at him, I stare into his blue eyes. “You sound like you know him well.”
“Don’t play games, princess,” he says. “If you have something you’d like to know of me, just ask.”
“Fine. What happened between the two of you? I’d like to know what made you come back here—” I wave my hand through the air “—to this hellish prison, after he abandoned you and betrayed your friendship.”
He’s quiet as he looks at me intently. I’m unsure if he’s going to say anything more, and heat creeps up the back of my neck as I hold his stare. “It’s complicated,” he finally answers.
I widen my eyes, urging him to continue. When he doesn’t, I say, “And? I understand as much, but why come back and become his knight commander? You’re obviously still sore over your falling out.”
He picks up a blade of pine straw and twirls it between his fingers. “One day, if I can convince you to stay at the castle, that is…” He eyes me. “I’ll explain it to you. But as we have limited time before you must meet with the prince, I suggest we get on with your riding lesson.”
“That’s it?” I huff. “You’re not going to share after you’ve made me reveal all my secrets?”
Tossing the pine straw to the ground, he stands and walks over to me, then extends his hand. “I said you could ask, not that I’d answer.” I bite my bottom lip, tempted to smack his hand away. He reaches down, careful of my injured hands, and grabs my wrist, pulling me up to stand next to him.
He’s back to being the silent, brooding first knight, and I know I’ll get nothing more out of him now. I turn, ready to ride Fireblood, when realization slams into me. I face him. “You’re not going to turn me in?”
Devlan sinks his thumbs behind his uniform belt and cocks his head. “No.” He takes a couple of steps closer to me. “You said you have a choice to make. I’ll allow you to make it.” His eyes rake over my frame. “I trust you’ll do the right thing.”
I hang my head. “But what’s the right thing?”
He places his hand just under my chin and lifts my face. “In time, you’ll know.” He drops his hand. “Also, I have little worry of you stealing a horse to escape on as you don’t have a key. And you won’t be taking mine.” He turns and walks away, but says over his shoulder, “You still have plenty of secrets, princess.” He glances back at me. “I plan to discover them all.”
Without my permission, my lips twist into a tight smile. “And I suppose yours are your bargaining chip.”
He lifts his brows. “Of course.”
TWELVE
Feeling only slightly relieved, I follow Devlan to where Fireblood is pushing her nose along the ground. The morning is turning into noon, and dark clouds scatter the sky. I still can’t help thinking about the person whose job it is to make the rain. How does King Hart make it all work?
I shake my head, clearing away the deviant thoughts. If I continue to think on everything, I’ll drive myself mad. Instead, I try to focus on my task at hand: learn to ride the horse whose name means fierce and stubborn—with fire in her blood.
Devlan looks to the sky. A line forms between his brows. “We don’t have much time before the rain comes.” He pats the horse’s saddle. “Hop up.”
A cold chill worms its way down my spine as I recall Mr. Levine saying nearly the same words. I shake it off, then cock an eyebrow. “Just like that?” I mimic his sure movement, patting the air. “Hop up.”
“For all your bravery, princess,” he says, “you lack the conviction to see things through yourself.” He walks toward me and takes one of my hands, then pulls me over to his horse. “Now, take the reins in your left hand. Let the slack drape over the horse.” I do what he says. “Grab the horse’s mane with the hand that holds the reins, and grip the cantle”—he points to the saddle—“with your other hand. Put your dainty little boot into the stirrup and hop up.”
He holds his hand up. “Wait.” He turns his palm up. “First, give me the dagger.”
My lips turn down. “Nay. I can’t. It belonged to my—”
“I know. But you can’t walk around with an outlawed weapon on you.” His eyebrows knit together. “That’s too dangerous. I’ll put it someplace safe for you. I promise.”
My chest tightens. “Devlan, I just can’t.” I look into his eyes, imploring him. “I made a promise to him.” He doesn’t have to know that I mentally made that promise. It means just the same to me.
He groans and rubs the back of his neck. “This is stupid.” Staring into my eyes, he matches my intensity. “Do not wear it on your person. Hide it somewhere in your room, somewhere your maid or anyone else won’t look.”
“I will,” I say quickly.
He eyes me as if he’s not completely convinced, and pats Fireblood’s saddle.
I suck in a breath and look at Fireblood. Biting down on my bottom lip, I take the reins and slip my foot into the leather stirrup, just as he told me, and attempt to pull myself up. It’s much harder than it looks, and much harder than his instructions made it sound. I hit the ground with my free foot.
“It’s too high.”
“No,” he says, and grabs my waist. “It’s not. You have to get stronger. Use the momentum of your body to haul yourself up. I’ll help this once, but focus on the feel as you bound up.”
On his ready, I jump and pull as he lifts. I sink my chest against the horse’s neck, latching my legs around her stomach, scared I’ll tumble over. But it’s not that bad. I’m already used to the feel of being atop a horse. I sit up straight and smile.
“Ha,” I say. “I think I can do it on my own now.” I glance down at Devlan for his approval, but he’s looking at the ground. A sideways smile sneaks up his face. “What? What did I do wrong?”
He finally looks at me. “Nothing, princess. But once we have a proper women’s saddle, you may want to practice mounting her sidesaddle.”
Heat spreads over my face as I look at my legs straddled on either side of the horse, my dress hiked up to my thighs. I clear my throat and pull my skirt down to cover my sheath, unwilling to allow his mockery to embarrass me. “Well, mayhap I’ll simply wear trousers from now on.”
Devlan shakes his head but says nothing. For about an hour, he instructs me on the basics. He has me kneel
atop the horse to learn balance; close my eyes; bend in all directions; hunch over and lean back. Then he goes over the necessary leg cues.
Afterward, he jogs beside Fireblood’s neck and grabs her bridle. He leads her in a slow trot as I get used to being on a horse by myself. We do this for a while until I’m comfortable, feeling as though I won’t fall off if I go a little faster.
When he releases her, I give her a harder kick than I had planned. Fireblood whinnies and bucks several times. Panicking, I try to halt her from taking off, and I slap the reins against her neck. Stupid. She bounds off in a spooked gallop.
Hell.
To make it worse, the sky opens up and rain pours down. Not a drizzle, but a full downpour. I lean forward, getting closer to the horse, and wipe the wetness from my eyes. My heart beats as fast as the drum of Fireblood’s hooves hitting the ground.
“Zara!” Devlan cries out.
My gritted teeth won’t let me answer him. I try to think through the panic, remember how he said to stop her. It dawns, and I lean back and pull the reins. Fireblood immediately halts, her back legs bending beneath her. I yelp as I’m thrown from the horse.
I flip and hit the ground hard. My head jars from the impact and smacks the ground. My back sinks into the soggy earth. I reach behind my head and palm the sore, aching lump that’s already forming. Devlan’s footfalls thump the ground, getting closer.
“Zara.” He flings himself down by my side. Kneeling in the wet dirt, he lifts me into his arms and cradles my body and head. “Damn it.” His eyes search my face, and I squint, trying to block the rain as it pelts my cheeks. “Are you all right? Can you move your legs?”
I nod and immediately regret it. “Ow.”
His fingers slide into my hair, feeling the tender spot. “That will be painful a short while. But at least we’ve discovered your head is not as hard as I first thought.”
Despite myself, I laugh. His blue eyes shine, widening in surprise. He brightens as a smile stretches across his face. Not the sneer or slight grin he rarely gives me, the ones that still hide all emotion from his face. But a true smile. One that transforms his features from their brooding mask into something beautiful.
My breath halts as I stare into his eyes, and study his lips, the curve of his chin. The small dimples carved into his cheeks. A tiny scar just under his slight cleft that I never noticed before. He runs his other hand along my face, clearing away the wet tangles of hair from my forehead. Then he brushes my cheek. Chilled tendrils coil along my skin, sending a shiver through my body.
His face drops into the all too familiar mask. He looks to the sky, then back to me. “You should get out of the rain before you fall ill.” His lips press into a thin line and his dimples disappear. “Are you all right to ride?”
I blink a few times as I’m snapped back to where I am—lying in a soggy field with the first knight holding me. I force a nod against his cupped hand. “Yes,” I manage.
He lifts me up as he gets to his feet. I attempt to wipe the dirt from my dress, but it’s useless, matted in with the rain.
“I suppose now you’ll want to take your time learning to ride.” He doesn’t look at me as he shakes out the reins and pets Fireblood’s wet mane.
I fist my hands on my hips. “After I’ve just learned to stop all on my own?” His head snaps in my direction. I smile. “Honestly, Devlan Capra, you don’t know me at all.”
* * *
Once I’m clean and dressed in a new blue gown, I run a comb through my hair and place my silver crown atop my head. The lump has gone down, and the band is loose enough that the circlet doesn’t bother the sore area. For that, I’m thankful.
I apply a small amount of the ointment Devlan gave me and rub my palms until the greasy feel is no longer bothersome. They only slightly sting, and if I continue to bandage my hands nightly with the salve, I feel they’ll be healed soon.
I glance out my balcony door and notice the rain has stopped. Maybe only momentarily, as the sky remains a dark gray with a shimmer of faint, electric blue lines. If Sebastian still plans to joust regardless of the weather, I need to leave soon to meet him. I gather up the hem of my dress and feel for my leather sheath, my dagger. Despite Devlan’s knowledge of it and his warning, I choose to keep it close.
One thing I don’t have to worry about at this point: a foe to take it from me. I trust that no one but Devlan would be audacious enough to pull such a move as he did, and Sebastian has been well-behaved since the night of our betrothal.
I open the door and nod to Devlan, then walk ahead of him toward the spiral staircase. The torches are lit early, making up for the loss of light on the overcast day, and the hallways crackle.
As we reach the back hall that opens up to the training grounds, I see the army of knights and members of the Force practicing on the grassy field. Some of the courtiers from the royal village are seated along with the nobles in the risers, privileged to watch the tourney training.
I’ve never been permitted to attend the training week before the tournament. Not that I had ever wanted to. It’s overwhelming as I take in the sight. The ground is sectioned off, marked with white chalk on the grass.
In one area, a group of knights dressed in silver armor thrust swords at each other, while in the next section they battle on horseback. In the center of it all, a long railing stretches across the diameter of the field, where the joust is taking place. Two knights atop horses charge toward each other, their lances outstretched. They smack into one another, and one is unhorsed.
At the sound of a lance breaking and the rider hitting the ground, I cringe. I glance over my shoulder to Devlan. “You’re not disappointed you’re stuck with me instead of out there with your knights?”
His gaze drifts over the training grounds, then his eyes find and linger on my face. “It’s not nearly as entertaining as watching a princess learn to ride.” He grins. “How’s your head, by the way?’
My face flushes. “Fine.” I step down to the lower level and then onto the ground, seeking Sebastian, and nearly stumble right onto a dead bird. Devlan’s hand catches my arm, holding me back.
“I’ll have it taken care of.” He releases me and reaches for his communicator.
The dead bird is forgotten as my gaze lands on Sebastian and Cecily, their heads close together as they talk. Moving behind the risers, I work my way across the field toward them as Devlan trails me. I hope the first knight’s lofty height won’t give us away. I’d like to hear some of their conversation, though guilt at eavesdropping sits heavily in my stomach.
Still, this is the man I’m betrothed to. I want to know more about him and his relationships outside of our own.
As I hunch behind the makeshift riser, Devlan clears his throat. I wave my hand behind my back to quiet him. I know the expression he probably now wears is a mocking one, but I’ll deal with his scolding later. Right now, Sebastian is reaching up toward Cecily’s face.
“That was then, Cecily,” Sebastian says softly, cupping her cheek. “I have a kingdom to rule, and I’ve told you, my father has voiced his opinion. Though we shared…special moments, I’m afraid it has to stop.” He bows his head, then meets her eyes again. “Please understand.”
I can’t see Cecily’s face as her back is to me, but I can make out the tremble of her shoulders. My heart aches for her. Again, why did he not choose her? There is no logic that can explain away why someone as beautiful and regal as she shouldn’t be betrothed to the prince. Especially if they’ve already been intimate. However, maybe the king ended their affair for that very reason, and I was an alternative to Sebastian’s buried desire for her.
I’ll never know unless Sebastian chooses to tell me the truth of their relationship.
He turns away from her and heads toward his knights in the center of the field. His walk is steady and determined as he leaves her behind, and after seeing his close moment with her, I feel as though Sebastian has many layers—ones I may never touch upon fully.
<
br /> Cecily guardedly wipes her eyes and glances around, as if wary over witnesses. I turn and dip behind the tall bleachers, but not quickly enough.
“Princess Zara?”
My eyes close and my frame stiffens. I hope she doesn’t realize I’ve overheard. When I open my eyes, Devlan is staring at me, his face drawn in a curious expression.
I relent and pivot to greet her with a smile. “Miss Cecily.” I remember not to curtsy this time. “I didn’t know you were interested in the tourneys.”
Her smile brightens, though forced, and she approaches me while holding up the hem of her olive gown. “Please, just Cecily. I do hate my friends using my name so formally. And you’re so comical, Princess Zara.” She mock-laughs, her blonde ringlets bouncing as she turns her attention to the knights. “The tourneys are hardly what I’m interested in.” I follow her gaze over the field to where Sebastian is suiting up in armor. “I just love a good game.”
I bite my tongue, refraining from telling her that I was never a player in the pursuit for the prince. Instead, I force my own smile wider. If I could find a way to trade places with her, I’d gladly do so.
Cecily spins toward the small crowd gathered in the spectators’ area along the sidelines. A number of folding chairs are spread out, and the noblewomen and their ladies-in-waiting are seated there. She turns toward me again. “Sir Devlan,” she says, looking past me. “Escort a lady to her seat?”
Devlan remains quiet, but steps forward and angles his arm out to her. I can’t help but wonder if the first knight has taken Sebastian’s place on the “most eligible bachelors” list.
We enter the spectator’s area, and Cecily thanks Devlan as she runs her hand along his arm, complimenting his strong physique. I plop down in one of the seats. Two other girls I met at the ceremony smile and congratulate me on my engagement to Sebastian.
“You have to admit,” one of them—Sabina—says, “there’s no better way one scopes out her future husband than by watching him perform the joust.” She nods her head toward the knights preparing to mount their horses.
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