The Offering

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The Offering Page 18

by Kimberly Derting


  Eden, I could sense, had no such delusions.

  If she had been able to sense my feelings, however, she would have felt torment and despair. Elena might as well have asked me to kill Eden with my own two hands.

  When I finally found the strength to speak, my voice was small and pitiful. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, knowing I might very well be issuing Eden’s death sentence by refusing to give up Sabara. I almost couldn’t finish, and then I managed, “I can’t.”

  Elena’s lips thinned, pulling into a hard line that left no question as to whether she’d meant her threat or not. She directed her unfeeling gaze to me, and I wanted to shrink away from it, to take back my refusal. But I couldn’t, because that would mean setting Sabara free.

  The queen didn’t say anything. She only nodded, but that was enough. That single action was all the order she had to give.

  I had to close my eyes when I saw the soldiers push Eden to her knees. She didn’t resist them, and she didn’t try to beg for her life. Around us the air went still and serene as Eden accepted her fate.

  And then I heard her, right before the sound of gunfire split the silence: “You’re doing the right thing, Charlie.”

  I couldn’t breathe.

  My chest was heavy. Crushed with the weight of what I’d done.

  I didn’t remember being moved, or when I’d stopped wailing Eden’s name, or when the night had come again. But all of these things had happened, and when at last I finally opened my eyes once more, they were swollen and sore from all the tears I’d wept, and all the ones that were still waiting to come.

  I vowed never to eat or breathe or love again.

  Love was too painful.

  Life was too painful.

  Air was too painful.

  I curled as tightly as I could into a ball in the bed I’d been deposited on, only vaguely noting it wasn’t the one I’d been in the night before. That didn’t matter either.

  The only thing that mattered now was that I hadn’t given Sabara or Niko or Elena what they wanted. I no longer cared if I’d done it for the right reasons, or the wrong ones. All I cared about was that they were being punished too.

  My heart was hard and bitter, and I envisioned a thousand ways to hurt them, to kill them and those they loved. To flog, flay, and torture them in every conceivable way.

  I wanted revenge. Pure and simple.

  And Eden’s words continued to replay in my head, over and over and over again, You’re doing the right thing. . . . You’re doing the right thing. . . .

  I wanted to take solace from her final declaration, but I couldn’t. Not now. Not yet.

  She might have been right, but it didn’t matter because she was gone.

  Forever.

  Eden was gone.

  brooklynn

  She would’ve liked to have more troops, but this was all she had at her disposal. They were a sad excuse for an army—her band of 178 able-bodied soldiers. Plus Aron. He was fine to look at, she supposed, but he had zero experience when it came to things like killing.

  She scoped the fields below and noted the impressive expanse of tents crawling with the ferocious bird-masked warriors from Astonia. She saw tanks and cannons, and even from her vantage point she could make out the imposing mounted grenade launchers that would have made her giddy had they been her own. The enemy’s firepower was nearly as impressive as their ranks.

  Her troops had weaponry as well, but they had to be cautious in utilizing it. They had Charlie to think of.

  Charlie was in there, somewhere in that labyrinth of shelters. They couldn’t just roll in, guns blazing, or they’d risk catching her in the cross fire.

  No, this would have to be an operation built on tactics. She and Max had been trying to formulate a plan in which they could pinpoint Charlie’s location and infiltrate the camp to rescue her.

  Which meant taking their time. Studying the comings and goings of the soldiers down there. Figuring out where Charlie might be.

  She only hoped they didn’t have to wait too long. And she hoped, for all their sakes, that Charlie was still alive.

  “Anything yet?” Max eased down beside her where she was crouched in the darkness, his voice soft and low, and filled with that same note of fear she heard every time he spoke.

  Brooklynn sighed, giving him the same answer she’d given the last time he’d asked, and the time before that. “Nothing. There was some movement about an hour ago, centered right about there.” She passed him the binoculars and pointed to a tent near the middle, near what they suspected was the command tent—the nerve center of Elena’s operation. “But it was dark, and it all happened so quickly, I couldn’t see what they were moving. Whatever it was, I doubt it was a person, because it didn’t move at all.” She paused, and then added pensively, “Unless . . .”

  Max stiffened. “Don’t do that,” he insisted, almost as much to himself as to her. “She’s fine. I know she is.”

  Brook nodded, shaking off the thought. “You’re right,” she agreed.

  He handed back the binoculars, his voice heavy. “How much longer do you think we can wait?”

  Brook reflected on that as she took the binoculars and surveyed the camp again, stopping here and there. She didn’t say anything, and Max didn’t press her. It was a good question, one that they’d asked each other too many times already. And one that neither of them had an answer for.

  Too soon, and they risked putting Charlie in harm’s way.

  Too long, and they risked that Elena would kill her.

  It was a fine line they walked.

  Brook inhaled, and was just about to lower the binoculars, when she saw something at the far end of the encampment. A flicker of something, or a flash. Like an explosion.

  Exactly like an explosion.

  It was followed almost immediately by another. And then another.

  The sounds were muffled, because they were so far away, but they were undeniable.

  She lowered the binoculars when she realized she didn’t need them. The detonations were clear, briefly banishing the darkness. They continued, one after the other, blasting the outer perimeter of the tents, which caught on fire, one by one, on the opposite side of camp from them. “You’re seeing this, right?” she asked Max, who was already getting to his feet.

  She stood now too, her eyes wide as she tried to make sense of it.

  The entire camp seemed to come awake then, sleeping giants prodded by an invisible attacker in the night. Soldiers emerged from their tents half-dressed and carrying lit torches. Fires ignited and weapons detonated as Elena’s soldiers returned fire.

  Within a matter of seconds the field before them was ablaze in flames and flashes and flares. There were shouts and shrieks and bellowed commands that managed to reach all the way into the hills.

  “Who is that?” Brook asked, knowing that Max didn’t have an answer for her. She lifted the binoculars again, straining to see who had beat them to the punch and started a battle against Elena’s troops. Another battalion of her own soldiers? Civilian militia?

  She had no idea. It was too dark to make out the attackers from here.

  But Max was already heading back toward their own, much smaller and much less impressive encampment. “It doesn’t really matter, I guess. We need to get down there and save Charlie. Now.”

  xvi

  Somewhere in my well of despair, the vacuum in which I existed—just me and the nothingness that tried to engulf me, sucking and pulling at me until I was raw and hopeless and ravaged—a sound emerged.

  It was loud, and it shook the ground beneath me, which was already shaky at best. The sound was crisp and clear, however, and penetrated my misery, reminding me I was still alive. Still breathing. Still whole.

  I blinked, but it was dark inside my tent, and despite the fact that I’d been glowing every day for months since Sabara had taken up residence with me, I didn’t now. At least not enough to crack the blackness of the night.

  But som
ething did.

  Something beyond the thick canvas walls of my enclosure.

  And one sound became another, became another, as the bangs and blasts grew louder and closer and brighter.

  There’s fire out there, I thought absently. Fire and bombs. Still, I didn’t rouse, because my heart was too heavy with ache.

  My hands were no longer bound, I realized in that moment, the first real moment of lucid thought I’d had about my surroundings. Apparently, a queen with no will to live was no threat.

  They were right, of course. I hadn’t even considered trying to flee.

  If there was the slightest chance I could actually reach them—either Niko or Elena—with some sort of weapon. If I could find a way to eviscerate them with my bare hands . . .

  Well, that might give me some reason to try, I thought, the sliver of a smile finding my lips. Also, my skin shone just the tiniest bit at the idea of the two of them disemboweled.

  But since that idea seemed improbable, what with the constant contingent of guards following them wherever they went, there was no point attempting it.

  Besides, I thought, looking at my empty and helpless hands. Where would I find such a weapon anyway?

  All I was now was a prison for Sabara. She’d tried to use my misery against me, to take control once more, but I had somehow found just enough energy to suppress her. The revulsion I felt for her part in all this fueled my resolve to keep her down.

  The earth beneath my feet continued to tremble and quake as boots rumbled past and voices roared in disharmony, shouting over one another—orders and instructions and directions, some at odds with others. And above them all the sounds of explosives continued to pierce the night sky.

  It was utter madness.

  When my tent flaps were flung wide apart, I didn’t so much as lift my head. It was as heavy as a boulder, and the effort would have been colossal.

  Eden would have lifted her head, I told myself. But even that wasn’t enough to goad me into action. So I lay there, waiting for something to happen.

  I didn’t have to wait long. I was hauled abruptly to my feet. My legs refused to cooperate, however, and as soon as I was released, I withered limply to the floor.

  I was useless. Helpless.

  I was nothing.

  “Get up. You’re being moved.”

  I heard the voice, and understood the words, but did not comply.

  He repeated them. “I said, get up!” This time his grip was ruthless, and he shook me, making my teeth rattle together.

  His efforts were in vain, though, and I collapsed the moment he let me go.

  “Worthless,” he muttered.

  That was when I heard the familiar scrape of metal, and a steel click. That was when something inside me clicked as well.

  Lifting only my eyes at first, and then slowly, very slowly, inching my chin up just the scantest amount so I could confirm what my ears had told me, I searched him.

  My eyes fell on the gun, the polished black gun he pointed right at my head, and I reawakened.

  There was no way I could know if he was the soldier who’d executed Eden—they all looked the same in their raven masks. But I reacted to him as if he were.

  I didn’t fear the weapon that threatened me, or the man who stood behind it.

  “Get up, you stupid bitch,” he swore, kicking me. “Queen or no, I’ll shoot you right here, and no one’ll ever know the difference.”

  I moved, but I didn’t do as he asked. I ignored his orders and instead got to my knees and dropped my chin to my chest.

  I invited him to shoot me in the head.

  Above me I heard his breathy chuckle, and my entire body prepared for what was about to happen. “Suit yourself, you crazy—”

  I lifted my head then, so I could look at his birdlike face. Before he could process what was happening, I grabbed the barrel of the gun with one hand, forcing the nose away from my head so that it was pointing past my shoulder. With my other hand I reached around the back of the gun and secured it so I had a solid hold.

  When he finally moved, he pulled on his weapon, which is exactly what I’d counted on. With my grip secure, he pulled me up, giving me the momentum I needed. And before he’d gained his balance all the way, I was already kicking.

  My first kick connected with his groin. I was prepared to kick again and again—the way Zafir had taught me, but it wasn’t necessary. That first kick was solid. I felt it, the way his body collapsed in on itself the moment my toe landed.

  I’d found my mark.

  In shock and in pain, the soldier released his hold on the gun and staggered backward, away from me.

  His gun was my gun now, and I knew how to use it.

  Suddenly he became the object of my reprisal. He was the reason Eden was dead. He deserved to die, just as Niko and Elena and Sabara did.

  I couldn’t see his face right before I pulled the trigger—it was covered by the mask—but I heard his last word, which was only a simpering, “Bitch.” And then he was quiet.

  The gunshot blended into the sounds of the rest of the battle raging around us. I held my breath and waited, but no one came running to my tent to see what had gone wrong. No one came to the dying soldier’s aid, or to recapture the queen who was now free and wearing a stolen bird mask.

  I was rolling the dead warrior over to steal his cloak, too, knowing it would be far too large on me, when I noticed the blade stashed in the back of his belt.

  It was solid in my hand, and its blade was sawlike. It would be perfect for gutting the Astonian queen and her traitorous paramour.

  I tucked it into the back of my trousers and reminded myself one last time of what Eden had said, letting it take on a whole new meaning. You’re doing the right thing, she’d said.

  Well, I would do the right thing, I decided. I would make Eden’s death mean something by refusing to surrender. Refusing to be their victim again.

  And by making them pay.

  There were bodies and blasts and clouds of smoke everywhere. It reminded me of the day at the Academy, when it had been attacked during my visit there, and so many children had been murdered simply because they’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Simply because they’d been so close to me.

  It was like that again today. This was all because of me.

  All because Ludania had a new queen.

  But I refused to feel blame, especially not for these deaths. The guilt was Elena’s to bear, if only she had the capacity to feel guilt. The truth was, this was because of her. Because of her lust, her jealousy, her vanity.

  She shouldn’t be sitting on any throne, and I certainly wouldn’t let her have Ludania’s.

  I suspected those were my men out there launching the assault against Elena’s camp, feeling much the same as I did about Ludania’s throne. I suspected that somehow the Ludanian armies had caught up with Elena’s forces and were waging war against her.

  I doubted, however, that they realized I was in here, and that I could become a casualty should I be in the wrong place when their bombs were launched.

  I moved quickly now, my disguise making it easy to maneuver through the throng of other bird-faced warriors. No one seemed to notice that I was half their size, or that I was moving in the opposite direction. They were all too focused on their own tasks. Far too occupied with the trappings of battle to pay attention to a pipsqueak underling who ran away from the uproar of the attacks.

  I had no idea where I was headed, though. And the mask made it hard to see. The goggles’ lenses were transparent, but they were clouded over by residue from the smoke that seemed to be everywhere, including inside the mask. I choked on the taste of ash and the stink of my own sweat. I could hear every breath I took echoing back at me.

  “Damn!” I cursed as I reached what seemed to be yet another dead end—a row of tents and tanks and soldiers packed so tightly together, it would be impossible for me to get through without drawing attention to myself. “Damn, damn, damn.”
/>
  I turned and raced down another long stretch of tents, past more screaming soldiers who barely noticed me. Torches flew past me in a blur as I refused to slow. And all the while, beneath my cloak, my fingers clutched the handle of the gun I’d pilfered, in case my luck soured and someone tried to stop and question me.

  I ran, turning corner after corner, and ran some more. I bumped into soldiers and whipped past horses and overheard voices and smelled fire. I had no sense of where I was. I thought I was running away from the battlefront, but then it grew louder, and the ground rumbled more intensely, until it seemed I was standing at the very epicenter of it.

  My heart sped, and so did my feet, carrying me away, until again I thought I’d put some distance between me and the fighting. Corpses littered the ground in places where the earth had been hollowed out by explosions. There were body parts, dismembered and grisly and charred, strewn about, and I could only imagine that the stench I smelled was that of burned flesh.

  I ran from that, too.

  There seemed to be no safe place. And no way out.

  Stopping, my side aching, I weighed my options. As badly as I wanted to go after Elena and Niko, I knew this was neither the time nor place. Even if I managed to find them in this maze, I’d only be recaptured and used against my own troops as a way to force them to surrender.

  I could hide in one of the tents and wait it out, stay out of sight until the fighting subsided, and then try to slip away, unnoticed. But that, too, seemed a poor plan. One that would likely end in my being discovered and recaptured by Elena and her men.

  No, I had to take a chance. It was now or never.

  My best option was to try to slip through the perimeter at its weakest and least defended point. To make a run for it.

  Also not a great plan, but better than waiting there to die.

  If only I could reach my troops to let them know I was alive. I’d be safe then.

  Urging myself to keep going, I ignored Sabara’s whispered rancor, Surrender, Charlaina. Surrender now while you still can.

 

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