I wrapped my arms around his waist and planted one leg firmly while rotating on it. The result was that I spun around him, so that I was at his back, my arms still encircling him.
When I extended my other leg and dropped low, it threw the man, who was at least three heads taller than I was, off balance. He careened backward, his arms flailing as he flew over the top of me and landed on his back. He fell on rocks and gravel, and I heard him exhale loudly. The metal of his mask struck the solid ground like lead.
This time, before he could recover, I straddled him and reached for the weapon at his belt, a knife with two separate but equally deadly blades curving from its hilt. I’d never seen such a weapon, but I didn’t hesitate. He never roused as I unsheathed it.
And then I stuck it through the sinewy flesh at the side of his neck.
His entire body stiffened, and he shuddered beneath me. I froze, my eyes going wide, as for the first time I stopped to consider what I’d just done. I felt the blood drain from my own face as I waited. When I sensed the last breath escape his throat on an exaggerated pant, I released the breath I’d been holding.
I looked down at my hand, still clenched tightly around the hilt and now smeared in blood that seemed to cover everything. My mouth went dry. I thought I might be sick right there . . . on his corpse.
You’ve killed before, Sabara whispered, her taunt as vicious as the acts of the man I stood above. You’ll kill again. It’s who you are. It’s who we are.
But she was wrong. I’d killed, yes. But never with my bare hands.
I’d never felt someone take their last breath.
I’d never had blood on my hands.
“No,” I said, closing my eyes and releasing the handle of the blood-covered knife. “I’m not you. I’m not you.”
When I glanced up, I saw Eden.
I barely registered that she wasn’t alone, that she was flanked on either side by soldiers wearing the same raven-faced masks as the man I’d just killed. I hardly saw the other soldiers, those whose bodies littered the hillside behind Eden and our enemies.
I was tempted, so incredibly tempted, to draw from Sabara’s powers to save her, but I couldn’t take the risk that Sabara would overtake me once more.
I might have blinked, or I might not have, when one of Eden’s captors saw me there, my hands covered in the blood of his fallen comrade, and he released his grip on her. I was in his sights.
Me. He was after me now.
Run, I heard Eden’s words repeat in my head. Run, run, run!
I let go of the knife, which was still stuck in the dead man’s neck, and with no other thought than reaching the VAN, I ran as fast as I could. There wasn’t much distance between me and the soldier behind me, but there also wasn’t much distance between me and the VAN.
Ten steps . . .
Five . . .
Two . . .
I launched myself up the steps and shoved my shoulder against the closed door. It opened inward—the way it did—and I exhaled as I tumbled inside, landing in a heap on the floor.
Without looking over my shoulder, I reached up and punched the button with my fist, the one that would close the door again. I needed to keep him out for only a second. Just long enough to reach the weapons cache in back.
Long enough to arm myself.
I leapt to my feet, hopeful that I’d made it. I was safe at last.
And then a voice stopped me cold. “That was impressive. I had no idea you had that in you.” I recognized who was speaking immediately, but even if I hadn’t, Sabara had.
My entire body started to tingle, starting in the pit of my belly and spreading outward. It was a reaction that made tears burn my eyes.
They weren’t my tears, however. They were hers.
I loathed her. For this and a million other reasons, I loathed her.
But it wasn’t his fault. He wasn’t the one holding me captive inside my own body.
“Niko,” I gasped, confused to find him here, inside the VAN. “What are you doing here?” I tried to think past Sabara’s response to him. I shoved past him. It didn’t matter why he was here. He was here and he could help. “Elena’s soldiers are out there, and they have Eden. We have to get to the guns.”
I reached the place where the crates of munitions had been carefully packed and stowed.
They were open now, the packing materials strewn everywhere and the weapons missing, as if they’d been pillaged in our absence. I dug through the shredded paper, searching in vain for a gun or a dagger or a bow. Anything.
My heart was racing, this time not at all because of Sabara or Niko.
Outside, I realized the soldier wasn’t even trying to gain entrance. He hadn’t even tried the door.
I glanced back over my shoulder to where Niko was contemplating me.
“Get up, Charlaina.” His voice was quiet, tender even.
“Wh-what are you doing?”
He withdrew a gun from behind his back and sighed. He was still watching me with his familiar golden eyes—eyes I’d dreamed of more than once. And for a moment—just for a moment—I could almost believe he meant it when he said, “I’m sorry I have to do this.”
brooklynn
It was the last thing Brook had ever expected.
The attack by the bird-faced warriors.
Eden unleashing her rounds into the knolls as Charlie sprinted across the plain, trying to escape to the VAN.
And then Charlie . . . her defensive skills. Battling a combatant at least twice her size.
Where the hell had she learned moves like those? When had she become someone who could kill in cold blood?
She’d watched it all from her perch near the top of the hill. She hadn’t even made it to the cave.
Had she thought she had a chance, she’d have joined the fray. Helped Charlie and Eden defend against their attackers.
But they were outnumbered, plain and simple. The strategist in her warned her to wait it out. To stay where she was and observe. To let this battle play out so she could plan her countermeasure.
Battles weren’t won by responding rashly. They were won by outmaneuvering your opponent. By staying one step ahead. Keeping a clear head.
That was what Brook needed now, a clear head.
If only she hadn’t witnessed that other part, that last thing, where she’d seen Niko walking Charlie out of the VAN, a gun aimed directly at the back of her head.
Niko . . . that swine! She rolled his traitorous name around and around in her head, wondering how they’d ever trusted him. How they’d ever allowed him to accompany Xander to Elena’s queendom in the first place. They should’ve known better, especially since Charlie had revealed what he truly was.
Brook didn’t know what he was up to—or why he appeared to be working in tandem with Elena’s soldiers—but if he was involved in this, it was no good.
And now he had Charlie.
She’d half-expected the other soldiers to come in search of her, and when they didn’t, she had to assume that they didn’t know about her. That they hadn’t realized she’d been traveling with Charlie and Eden.
She’d managed to stay quiet by biting her fist, the only way she’d been able to keep from being discovered while she’d watched as Eden had run out of ammunition and been overpowered and taken prisoner. But she’d nearly choked on her own glee as she’d watched Charlie take down her attacker and ram a blade into his throat.
She remained concealed long after Niko and the others had taken Eden and Charlie and the VAN and had gone. She was a fugitive now, inside the borders of her own country.
Brook knew she had to be careful—stealthy, so as not to be discovered.
Slipping away from her hiding spot, she glanced skyward at the sun. At least an hour had passed since the Astonians had departed, so she was certain it was safe to come out.
She followed the same path she’d negotiated before, only this time she stopped along the way.
At the first body, Brook kne
lt to examine the metal casing surrounding the soldier’s face. The pounded iron was thick, like armor. She ran her finger along the side of the beakish mask and noted it had a knifelike edge. It would slice her flesh were she not cautious.
She reached around it and found where it fastened. She removed it, as well as the goggles, revealing the soft skin of a woman beneath. Her black hair was wild and unkempt, but she was young—barely of legal age by Ludanian standards.
Brook’s gaze moved downward, to where Eden’s bullet had pierced the girl’s heart. She couldn’t see the blood; it was lost in the sea of black she wore. Brook relieved the girl of her gun and a small-bladed knife she found concealed in the top of the girl’s boot.
At the next body, she didn’t inspect the mask or the bullet wound. She simply stripped the soldier of his weapon and the spare ammunition he kept in his inside jacket pocket. She did the same at the third and fourth bodies. Weapons and ammo only, until she’d scrambled all the way down the hillside to where Charlie had single-handedly killed the soldier who’d blitz attacked her.
She didn’t want to smile—this was no time for smiling—but she couldn’t stop herself. Charlie, it seemed, was something of a badass.
Charlie, the girl she’d known forever. The one who’d worked hard and barely spoken out of turn her entire life.
Charlie, the girl Brooklynn was willing to die for.
Apparently their queen still had a few secrets of her own.
Brooklynn braced her boot against the dead soldier’s unmoving chest and gripped the handle of the knife that protruded from his neck. She counted to three silently in her head, and then pulled.
The knife came free, and Brook marveled at the double-bladed design before wiping both sides of it on her pants. She held her breath then, every muscle in her body going stock-still. Every beat of her heart was a distraction as she tried to concentrate. The skin at the base of her neck tightened. The muscles at her shoulders coiled, readying.
She’d heard the snap of a twig just as clearly as if it had been the shattering of a colossal tree trunk. It had come from behind her, and she knew that if she didn’t time her actions carefully, they might easily be her last.
Spinning around, she dropped to the ground, crouching low. In her left hand she had a handgun pointed in front of her. In her right the double-sided blades were concealed close to her hip. She was prepared for anything.
Except for what she saw.
Aron took a step backward, his eyes locked on the gun directed at his face. “A simple ‘Nice to see you’ would have done.”
Brook inhaled sharply and squeezed her eyes shut. She tried to calm her pounding heart before it cracked a rib or bruised a lung.
When she opened her eyes again, Aron was studying the body at her feet. “D’you do all this?”
She narrowed her gaze on him, resenting the question. “Would it matter if I had?”
Aron looked again, and then at the bodies in the hills beyond her. He shook his head. “You planning to lower that thing anytime soon?”
She hated that she couldn’t still her heart. She hated that she had to ask this, even though she should know the answer. “Depends. Tell me about Niko.”
Aron frowned, and she searched for any sign that his confusion about her question wasn’t genuine. “What are you talking about? What does Niko have to do with anything?” He took a step toward her, and she waved the nose of the gun at him, staving him off. “Brook, what’s going on? I find my girl out here, all alone in the middle of a bloodbath, and all you can do is ask me about Niko? Should I be jealous?”
Brooklynn blinked. She thought about shooting him right then and there, and then she glowered at him. “Don’t call me that,” she growled irritably.
He grinned then, a smug grin that made Brook’s stomach flip. And this time he ignored her weapons and marched boldly to her, disregarding the fact that she could pull the trigger at any moment. “Call you what? My girl? What do you expect me to call you, then? Commander? Ma’am?” His arm shot out to her waist, and he hauled her up against him, his eyes sparkling devilishly.
Brook let the gun drop to her side. Her heart stopped beating and lodged in her throat. The way he looked at her, the way his eyes roved over her face—“wolfishly” was the only word she could think of to describe it—made her cheeks burn.
“I missed you, ma’am,” he whispered, right before his lips claimed hers.
She wanted to push him away—to shoot or stab him, or step on his foot. But his mouth made a convincing argument, and instead she leaned closer, surrendering completely. Telling him with her impatient lips and the coaxing of her tongue the things she refused to voice out loud.
That she’d missed him, too. That she’d hated being apart from him.
That she wanted him.
And that was how an entire band of her own soldiers came upon the two of them, wrapped in each other’s arms, groping clothes and tugging hair, and straining to be closer to each other. She never heard so much as a single hoof strike against the ground.
It wasn’t until Max—Max, of all people!—shouted her name that she was even aware they were no longer alone.
Her face burned for an entirely different reason as she shoved away from Aron, who seemed to feel none of the shame she did. “Let go,” she muttered under her breath when he kept her tangled in his embrace.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, chuckling, but he didn’t stop touching her. He slipped his arm around her waist and drew her to him, as if daring her to pull away. It was possessive, and sort of endearing, and she’d missed the feel of him far too much to try to step away.
“Where’s Charlie?” Max insisted breathlessly as he dismounted from his horse. He broke any spell Brook had fallen under upon Aron’s arrival, the immediacy in his tone reminding Brooklynn that Charlie was still out there . . . with Niko.
“We . . .” She glanced down at the dead soldier on the ground in front of her. “We were attacked.” She struggled with how to explain it all. “Niko was here, and he . . . he took Charlie.” She could hardly believe it herself, and still didn’t understand why Niko would be working with Elena.
Max surveyed the scene—the bodies, the bruises on Brook’s face, and the bloodied knife, still in her hand. “Well, you did the best you could. I know you wouldn’t have let him take her unless you’d been overpowered.”
Brook looked down at the knife she clutched, and then at the soldier lying at her feet. “I didn’t do this,” she explained. “Charlie did. She fought and killed him. I’ve never seen anything like it. Not from her.”
Max looked as stunned as she’d felt, and then a look of understanding crossed his face. “I guess she wasn’t joking when she said Zafir had been teaching her to fight.” He scrubbed his hand over his stubbled jaw. “But Niko? Why Niko? What did he say?”
“I don’t know. I was hiding. I was planning to follow them—” Max stopped her with a raised brow, and she tried to explain. “That—that was when Aron found me,” she stammered. “I didn’t have a chance to formulate a plan. I’m not sure where they were going, or what Niko had in mind. They have Eden, too, though. She’ll keep Charlie safe till we find her.”
Max was already getting back onto his horse and talking to one of her soldiers—one who would normally be taking orders from Brooklynn herself. “Get the commander a horse,” he barked. “She’s going to lead us to Queen Charlaina.”
xiii
“You’re making a mistake,” I told Niko, even though I’d already said as much. Even though he’d already ignored this very same threat time and time again. “You’ll be executed for taking me prisoner. It’s nothing short of treason.”
Inside, Sabara wrestled with me, attempting to gain control once and for all. She wanted more than to intimidate Niko. She craved so, so much more.
The problem was, I was doing a less than impressive job restraining her, and Niko was the reason. His presence distracted me and made Sabara stronger, giving her the ince
ntive she needed to keep trying, trying, trying.
He scooted closer to me in the seat we shared, pinning me against the wall of the VAN. I couldn’t help but react instinctively to the scent of him, his masculine odor of sweat and leather that should have made me recoil but instead had me straining to be nearer to him.
“It would be treason only if I were one of your subjects,” he protested in a low voice that filled every inch of the cramped space. He was too close to me now, and I told myself to pull away. But my head was spinning and I could feel Sabara’s stranglehold on me tightening. “Besides, you’re not my prisoner. You’re my guest.”
“Then untie me,” I shot back, my voice, at least, not betraying me.
His lips curved into a delicious smile that coaxed me the barest amount closer. I felt a surge of something charged, something dizzying, course through me, and the last of my control slipped away. His words, when I heard them, seemed to come from far, far away. “It’s not that simple, Charlaina.”
It was the use of my name—and not hers—that broke the spell I’d very nearly fallen under. I blinked, and blinked again. I shook my head to clear my muddled thoughts at the moment when his lips were almost upon mine.
Our noses banged together, and his eyes widened, as if he were as surprised as I’d been to find us so close to kissing. He wasn’t fooling anyone, of course.
“Stop it,” I hissed, speaking to both Niko and Sabara now. “Leave me alone.”
I glanced over to where Eden sat, her hands and feet tied so tightly, her fingers were turning an uncommon shade of blue. There was a gag stuffed into her mouth. One of the remaining soldiers, his mask still on his face, stood above her with the tip of a rifle pressed lightly to her temple as the VAN leapt unevenly over the terrain. I watched his finger, praying it didn’t slip on the trigger.
Niko’s touch drew my attention; the back of his hand was caressing my cheek and stroking my jaw. “Charlaina, please. Be reasonable. I have no intention of harming you.” He came closer, so that his lips were in the same place his hand had been just seconds before. At my jaw. “It’s her I want. Only her.” Goose bumps prickled my skin everywhere. “Always her.”
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