Defy (9 page)

“You are going to be tried and found guilty for the attempted

murder of our prince.” I walked over to her, my hand resting on

the hilt of my sword. “Do you know what the penalty is for would-

be assassins?”

She glared up at me.

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“Answer me!” I bellowed, pulling out my sword and leveling

it at her throat in one swift movement.

She gasped, pulling back instinctively.

“Do you know what the penalty is?” I repeated, enunciating

each word slowly.

Finally, Tanoori nodded, and tears filled her eyes. She spoke,

but the word was garbled by her gag. I lifted my sword to her face

and her eyes widened in terror. But instead of cutting her face or

fulfilling her sentence prematurely as she surely feared I was about

to do, I used the sharp tip to pull the gag out of her mouth.

“What was that?” I let the sword rest against her cheek.

“Death,” she whispered, visibly trembling.

“Yes, death.”

“What’s
happened
to you, Ale —”

“Why did you try to kill the prince?” I snarled at her, cutting

her off.

“It’s the only way.”

I stared at Tanoori incredulously. How had a girl who was

afraid of her own shadow when I’d last seen her found her way into

such a position? I hadn’t known her well, but I had not pegged her

for the assassin type. “The only way to what? Ensure your own

death sentence?”

“I know you recognize me. We all wondered what happened

to you after your parents died. Someone said they saw Marcel

and another boy being taken by the army. That boy was you,

wasn’t it?”

Hearing Marcel’s name felt like the red-hot tip of the farrier’s

iron tunneling into my gut. I pressed the edge of my sword into

her cheek, not hard enough to cut her, but enough to stop her

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from talking. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, and if you

know what’s best for you, the only words out of your mouth from

now on will be a confession and an explanation of why you tried to

kill Prince Damian.” The fear in Tanoori’s eyes turned my stom-

ach. Self-loathing filled my throat with acid. But my life depended

on silencing her — and as much as I wished I could change things,

Tanoori’s life was already forfeit. “Why did you do it?”

“His death would end the war, bring down King Hector. His

death would mean a chance at a normal life for the rest of us.” A

dark shadow crossed her face as Tanoori lifted her chin, scraping

her cheek on the edge of my sword, showing the first bit of back-

bone that led me to believe she really could be the one who had

raced toward the prince with a dagger.

“How could the death of the prince bring down the king? All

it would mean is that an inferior relative would inherit the throne

and his war.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to understand, since you’re apparently

one of the prince’s right-hand
men
.” Tanoori’s eyes f lashed in the dim light, her tone snide.

“What you’re talking about is treason. And for that alone, the

punishment is death. Who convinced you that killing the prince

would end the war?”

“Why, are you interested in finishing the job?” She grinned at

me, growing bolder by the second.

“Silence!” I roared, pressing the sword against her throat

again. The hot, rank air pressed in around me, slippery and sti-

f ling. The putrid smell of unwashed bodies and unemptied

chamber pots was enough to make me gag.

Tanoori leaned forward, as far as her bindings allowed. “I

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watched you practice with your brother. If pretending to be a boy

is what you had to do to save yourself, it obviously worked well.”

My hand trembled on my sword and I glanced wildly over my

shoulder, terrified Jaerom could be eavesdropping.

“I won’t reveal your secret, even though you sentenced me to

death. I knew the risk I took and you’re only doing your duty. It’s

the way of the world. But if you wish to help change the course of

events, if you wish to do something meaningful, all you have to do

is follow the river. The answer lies in the Heart of the Rivers for

those who want to find it.”

“I said,
silence
!” I yelled again, trying to cover up the unsteady beating of my heart, the pulse of fear and fascination that surged

through my blood.

Tanoori sat back in her chair and closed her eyes. I shoved my

sword into its scabbard and pulled the gag back up to her mouth.

Just before I got it into place, her eyes opened again and she whis-

pered, “Please make it fast.”

My fingers shook as I forced the gag back into place, but then

I paused. “You won’t tell anyone who I am?” I breathed into her ear.

She shook her head once and I saw truth in her eyes.

I yanked the gag back out and threw it on the ground. “I’ll do

what I can.”

“Thank you, Alexa,” Tanoori said softly.

I turned and grabbed the torch, leaving her in darkness, then

rushed out of the cell as fast as I could. I had to get out of there.

Away from the heat, the sweat, the smell, the fear that filled my

mouth with the bitter taste of copper. The door slammed shut

behind me and I shouted for Jaerom.

“All done?” he drawled as he sauntered down the corridor.

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“Got what I could out of her.” I twisted my head, making my

neck crack. “How do you stand this heat?”

“Get used to it eventually, I guess, just like all the others stuck

down here in hell.” The lock ground back into place, sealing

Tanoori in to await her fate, and me out to try and erase what she’d

said to me.

“Right.” I strode back toward the stairs, desperate to get away,

though I tried to look as nonchalant as possible, hoping Jaerom

didn’t notice how f lushed I was, how my pulse raced against the

skin of my neck. I doused the torch in a bucket near his desk and

set it back on the pile.

“See you soon, Little Boss.” Jaerom called after me as I rushed

back up the stairs, away from the fear of discovery, from the tanta-

lizing thought of finishing what Tanoori started — of finishing

this war. How many times had I dreamed of that very thing? But

after two years in the army and one in the prince’s guard, I didn’t

think anyone had that power anymore.

It was impossible. She was deranged. Killing the prince would

only infuriate King Hector even more. He’d already lost his elder

son; Prince Damian was his sole direct heir. And Tanoori’s hint

made no sense. Follow the river? The key could be found in the

Heart of the Rivers? There were rivers all over the place. We lived

in a
jungle
. No, I wouldn’t even consider it. My duty was to my prince, whether I liked him or not. Whether I believed in his

father’s war or not.

Finally, I emerged onto the main f loor of the palace. A win-

dow was open nearby, carrying the scent of the jungle. The smell

of green things and f lowers and soil and rain. Thick clouds, bruised the color of dark wine, rushed across the sky toward us, carrying

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lightning and rain. The growl of thunder was a distant threat,

menacing but still soft.

Some said that Blevon, King Osgand’s kingdom, was dry and

filled with peaks and canyons because he was cursed. They said a

powerful sorcerer made the water sink deep into the earth, so they

had to dig for it, just to stay alive. Papa had always said that wasn’t true, and I secretly agreed with him. Off to my right was the

breeding house, which I avoided walking past at all costs. As I

watched two of the king’s guards come out the door, laughing

raucously, I had a hard time believing anyone could be more

deserving of a curse than King Hector, and our land was verdant

and full of water.

I had to stop, turn away, and press my fist to my belly to keep

at bay the nausea that welled up into my throat, threatening to

make me vomit as I thought of little Kalen in there somewhere,

dreading the time when her monthly courses came and the attic

was no longer safe for her. Across the courtyard, boys barely old

enough to lift a sword were sparring, forced to join the army and

die for a war that had no end in sight.

Avenging his wife’s death had sounded like a noble cause in

the beginning, but after so much death, so much rape and horror

and atrocity enacted in the name of helping Antion win the war, I

couldn’t help but hate my own king as much as the enemy’s. No

matter the outcome, there would be no true victors.

Tanoori’s words echoed in my mind and I squeezed my eyes

shut. If there
was
a way to end this war — to stop King Hector —

did I have the courage to try?

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 nine 

T
hat night, Rylan carried a cot into Damian’s outer

chamber for me. Thunder rumbled through the palace as

rain pelted the stone walls, echoing off the roof above us. The air

was taut with the charged heat of the storm.

“Where do you want it, Alex?”

I pointed. “Just set it down next to his door. Hopefully,

that will be close enough to appease Iker.” I couldn’t quite keep

the irritation from my voice. I’d stood at attention outside Prince

Damian’s door for hours, with no sound from within to give

me any hint as to his activities, lightning and thunder my only

companions.

The long silence had given me far too much time to think

about Marcel and Tanoori. About my life before the army came

into our village and took Marcel and me away. About the differ-

ence between
training
to fight and the reality of actually killing someone.

Or watching someone you love die.

The pain of Marcel’s loss washed over me and I stared at the

cot, willing myself not to lose control. I balled my hands into fists, tried to hold back the sudden, consuming grief.

And soon Tanoori would die as well.

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“Alex?” Rylan’s voice was concerned.

I clenched my jaw and, through sheer willpower, forced the

emotion away. The tightness beneath the cage of my ribs receded

enough to allow me to breathe without gasping and I looked up at

him. “I can’t talk about it.”

He nodded and turned away, allowing me to pull myself

together. “Do you need anything else?”

Taking a deep breath, I glanced around. The room was bare of

anything I needed to wash with or prepare for bed. But that

brought up the question of how I was to accomplish my toilet-

ries without revealing myself. If anyone walked in while I was

bathing — or if Prince Damian came out of his room . . .

“No,” I finally replied. I’d ring for a maid to bring me a bowl

of water and a cloth. That would have to suffice.

He started to walk away, but I called out. “Rylan?”

Pausing, he looked back.

“The prisoner I questioned earlier . . . I haven’t been told.

When have they scheduled her execution?”

“I haven’t heard, either. I’ll find out and let you know.”

“Thank you.”

Rylan looked at me for a moment longer, as though he wanted

to say something more. Our eyes met and locked. For a moment,

I wondered what would happen if he knew. If he stood across from

me right now, knowing that I was a
girl
who had just lost her brother and been forced to move into the prince’s chambers —

would he take me in his arms and wipe away the tears I’d been

choking back all day?

My neck growing hot, I barked out, “That’s all, Rylan. What

are you standing around staring at me for?”

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“Sorry.” He shook his head slightly, a strange look crossing his

face. Before I could try to guess his thoughts, he turned and

walked out.

I exhaled sharply when the door shut and I sat down heavily

on the cot. Marcel’s death was too much to handle. It was making

me vulnerable, revealing the secret I’d spent years trying to cover

up. I had to pull it together. I couldn’t allow myself to stare at

Rylan like that ever again. My only hope was that he’d chalk it up

to exhaustion and grief. He seemed concerned. He obviously knew

I was more upset than I let on.

“Ah, my favorite guard, ready to do my every bidding.”

The prince’s voice startled me and I jumped up to attention

again. “Your Highness, I apologize for my inattentiveness.” I

bowed deeply, hoping he didn’t notice the wetness on my cheeks.

How did he get the door open without a sound? And what did he

mean by his “favorite guard”?

“Alex, rise and quit apologizing. As this is now your bedroom,

I understand that you won’t be standing at attention at all times.

Unless your strength and training extend even to the ability to

resist sleep?”

I stood up and pressed my fist to my heart. Prince Damian was

dressed only in pants, boots, and a loose-fitting white tunic,

unlaced so that the top of his chest was exposed. A chest that was

more muscular than I would have expected, considering the depths

of his laziness. I’d never once seen him exercise or train with any

sort of weapon. He did ride fairly often, but that wouldn’t have

made a difference in his upper body. The analytical side of my

mind wondered what he could possibly be doing — and when —