Defiance

by Patti Larsen

  He still thinks I’m my master’s creature, she thought.

  “Greetings, my prince,” she managed aloud.

  “I wasn’t told you joined us,” he said.

  The gift told her he was calm but curious.

  “I haven’t,” she told the truth. “I’m on my way to the border.”

  “You’re a far throw from there yet,” he said. “Where is your horse?”

  “None gifted.” She left it at that. She had been told the walk to the border would be good for her. She knew it for what it was. Another of Emnit’s tests. He denied her the horse she loved, forcing her to leave the stallion behind.

  The prince’s emotions twinged, but settled. He offered her the flask.

  “Drink?”

  He made it so simple. Nothing separated them. One step and she could plunge her blade into the bastard’s heart. She was doing it even as the prince saw it in her eyes. Her left hand deflected the upraised flask, right freeing her sword. So easy. An end to it all, including her own life. She expected to die from the moment she chose her path.

  What she hadn’t expected was the grip on her wrist, the power of the gift flowing through her, controlling her as it had since she was seven years old. Ali tore her eyes from Havard’s terrified gaze and looked up at Emnit.

  His power engulfed her and dragged her to black.

  ***

  She woke in discomfort, nothing new. She had often gone to sleep with injuries she was certain would keep her bedridden for weeks. She tried to open her eyes, but only succeeded with one. The other throbbed, firmly sealed.

  It was still dark, or perhaps had been light and was dark again. She had no way of knowing. The bonfire blazed, but there were many more soldiers than she remembered. The jovial atmosphere was gone. She could feel the grim determination in all of them, hanging over the camp like a canopy.

  Ali tried to move. She held back her groan of pain only by long practice. She was sitting up, hands bound behind her, tied to a tree. Something wasn’t right inside her, a broken feeling of finality. A necessary part crushed. She knew she bled inside. Her head bobbed, hanging as she gathered her remaining strength. Only then did she notice her uniform had been stripped from her. She was clad in thin undergarments, the cloth torn and bloodied. Her feet were also bound, turned white from lack of circulation. She couldn’t feel them anymore.

  She lifted her head again, resting against the rough bark and almost choked. She strained to the side to spit out the old, crusted clots filling her mouth, fresh blood welling to replace them as her chin hit her chest.

  Emnit. His name was a curse to her. Hypocrite. He preached, had beaten obedience into her. Crushed her, made her hollow, sucked her dry of everything. And here he was, the enemy, the traitor. A manic laugh rose. She did nothing to stop it despite the agony it caused.

  Her ragged humor brought attention. She knew he approached before she saw his boots appear next to her corpse-white feet. She refused to look up.

  “Alimeaha.” His speaking voice always alarmed her. It was so deep and harsh from disuse. He sounded like a statue come to life, if stone could speak.

  She let her laughter run its course, ignoring him. She knew she would die. There was nothing else to fear. For the first time she defied him openly and refused to acknowledge him at all.

  He knew it from the feel of his power, that he had taken her to her limit and lost her. He crouched, thick fingers sliding under her chin to lift her face. She made him work for it. Her eyes met his. She was shocked into silence.

  His face held only sorrow.

  “You were never meant to be here,” he said. “Nor was your village to be a target. Your father…” he trailed off, regret heavy between them. “Your father was my closest friend, the only man I have ever granted that title. His death is a waste.”

  Ali worked up blood and saliva as he spoke. When she had enough momentum, she spit in his face. The bloody wad impacted his cheek. He didn’t flinch. Made no effort to wipe the spittle away, even when it trailed down his skin, glistening in the light of the distant fire.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  His weakness made her angry. What right had he to tell her these things, to express remorse, to be sorry? He made her believe he was stronger than her, that he had power. His admission made her see him as he really was. Flawed, small. Human.

  Her voice almost didn’t cooperate but she refused to touch his mind. Something was wrong with her throat. Her words emerged grainy and rough, but she got her message out.

  “I don’t care,” she said.

  Emnit brushed the saliva from his face at last. It left a dark trail on the back of his leather sleeve.

  “You know why you have to die?”

  “So you and the traitor can live,” she said.

  That got a reaction. He started so violently she knew she triggered emotion he never showed.

  “I am a patriot.” The words clipped short with anger. “The king has done nothing since he took the throne but ignore reality. Did you know the fool has opened the border to the Vistani? The Vistani! As though our enemies were suddenly trustworthy. He has their ambassador at the palace.”

  Ali could feel his rage rise.

  I’m not the only one who held onto something of myself, she thought. What horror had their old enemies visited on her mentor to make him hate them so? She’d never know, now. Though she imagined she knew how he felt.

  He calmed, his old mask falling into place. It made her feel better. This was the Emnit she knew, not the emotion ridden man who made her shudder.

  He stood, towering over her, power in check.

  “We will save our people,” he said. “We will force the king to take notice, or we will take his crown from him.”

  “You’re strategy is flawed if saving people is your goal,” she said.

  “Casualties are the cost of war.”

  How many times had she heard that?

  Ali forced her head to rise, to look up at him. He was back-lit by the fire, wreathed in flame but cloaked in darkness.

  “You have taken everything from me,” she said. “My childhood, my family and my trust in you. I am beyond your reach, now. Do your worst.” She let her chin drop.

  After a moment, his boots retreated. She heard the prince’s voice raise in anger as he and Emnit argued before the fire. Their plan spun out to her, playing in her mind, through her gift. For the first time, instead of seeing the past, Ali was granted a glimpse of the future.

  Smoke rises from the Order barracks. Guardians lay dead and dying, brought low by betrayal and lies. The Capitol lies in ruins, polished domes crushed like eggshells. The dead line the street, the stench of rotting corpses and fire a constant. The prince’s soldiers fight a losing battle. The Vistanesh assault an endless marching column of dark-robed barbarians on massive horses, the devastation reaching out to the crippled countryside. Preval is in chains. Everywhere there is decay and hopelessness. Emnit dies by the hand of Havard moments before a Vistani arrow takes the prince’s life.

  Ali came back to herself as the prince and two soldiers brushed past Emnit, aiming for her. She knew the path they chose was flawed, almost shared her vision with her old mentor. But the fury in Havard’s face made her pause.

  I must act, she thought, despair rising despite her best intentions. This must not be. There is nothing I can do, but I must do something.

  Her gift touched her rising emotion and tried to feed. In that instant, Ali had two choices. She could die by the hand of her enemy, or set her feelings free and allow her power to eat her alive. Forbidden, beaten out of her, warned against such weakness since the moment her power was woken, when Emnit tore free the barrier between her and her gift. It should have been harder to break her conditioning, perhaps. Except she felt suddenly free, more the girl who had been than the woman who was.

  With nothing left to lose, she reached within and released the block she placed on herself so many years before. She saw Emnit spin, hea
rd him shout, felt his power brush over her as he realized what she was doing, but she was free in truth, now, and he had no control over her any longer.

  Ali poured everything she felt into her gift, knowing it would kill her. It swelled in a heartbeat, engulfing her in flames.

  Fire, she thought. How fitting.

  She laughed as the storm of heat rushed from her and engulfed the camp, pleased in her last moment that her sacrifice did not take her alone. Emnit’s eyes were empty as the power set him alight.

  ***

  The moons fell to the horizon, chased by the sun. Mourning doves cooed their dawn greetings in the still of the forest. A lone rabbit paused at the edge of the clearing, rising to her hind legs, ears alert, one paw resting on a rotting stump. A human moan sent her dashing for safety.

  Ali opened her eyes to the brilliant sunrise, cast with pinks and reds and golds. It took time for her to understand she was not only alive, but whole and healthy again. She sat up, muscles warming, tight from misuse but responsive. Her uniform had been restored, sword and bow nearby. Even her pack seemed intact.

  How? Her gift hummed happily within her. Her training vied for control, but Ali was free.

  She climbed to her feet, looked around. The clearing stood empty. For a moment she wondered if she had dreamed it all. The grass rustled underfoot, thick and lush, untouched by the storm she knew she created or the flames of the bonfire. There was no sign of tents, horses or soldiers. The air hung calm, fragrant with flowers and the ripe grass she crushed beneath her feet. This was not how it was supposed to be.

  Why do they teach us to be afraid, she wondered, if this is what the gift is capable of? Why do they lock away such ability? We would be invincible to our enemies.

  She flashed forward.

  Ali stands on the steps to the throne. The Capitol burns behind her, engulfed in flames of her creation. She laughs as they place the crown on her head, devoured, mad with power. She is a monster, beautiful and flawless and horrible, and they love her for it.

  Ali shuddered. Never again.

  Her gift disagreed, awoken with a life of its own. It whispered love and promise in her mind.

  We’ll see, she told the power within. Mollified, the fire inside her dimmed and simmered.

  Ali gathered her things and moved to leave the clearing. She took a step forward and stumbled. She crouched, parting the grass to see. A pair of leather boots lay crumpled there.

  She knew those boots.

  ###

  Like what you read? There’s so much more to discover

  on Amazon!

  And don’t forget to sign up for new releases!

  http://smarturl.it/PattiLarsenEmail

  ***

  About the Author

  Everything you need to know about me is in this one statement: I’ve wanted to be a writer since I was a little girl, and now I’m doing it. How cool is that, being able to follow your dream and make it reality? I’ve tried everything from university to college, graduating the second with a journalism diploma (I sucked at telling real stories), was in an all-girl improv troupe for five glorious years (if you’ve never tried it, I highly recommend making things up as you go along as often as possible). I’ve even been in a Celtic girl band (some of our stuff is on YouTube!) and was an independent film maker. My life has been one creative thing after another—all leading me here, to writing books for a living.

  Now with multiple series in happy publication, I live on beautiful and magical Prince Edward Island (I know you’ve heard of Anne of Green Gables) with my very patient husband and six massive cats.

  I love-love-love hearing from you! You can reach me (and I promise I’ll message back) at patti@pattilarsen.com. And if you’re eager for your next dose of Patti Larsen books (usually about one release a month) come join my mailing list! All the best up and coming, giveaways, contests and, of course, my observations on the world (aren’t you just dying to know what I think about everything?) all in one place: http://smarturl.it/PattiLarsenEmail.

  Last—but not least!—I hope you enjoyed what you read! Your happiness is my happiness. And I’d love to hear just what you thought. A review where you found this book would mean the world to me—reviews feed writers more than you will ever know. So, loved it (or not so much), your honest review would make my day. Thank you!