Rebel Song (13 page)

He pulled his bike around the final bend at the start of his driveway, then killed the engine to avoid waking anyone. He began walking it up the drive when he heard the soft murmur of voices near the house. He stopped short, then softened his steps, creeping along the path. It was rare for anyone to be up and about outside at such a late hour and he fingered his knife instinctively. He crept close enough to hear the voices clearly and ducked back behind a tree, wrapping his fingers around the handle of this blade, his heart warming up for a long sprint.

“You put me in a dangerous position little harlot.” Benton’s husky voice came through the air.

“Last I checked you put yourself in them,” Arianna responded in a voice laced with flirtation.

Rogan relaxed as the threat disappeared but then turned his head to glare at them.
Why were they outside talking at this hour? On a school night?

“Ari, you’re a child.”

Arianna reached up and pressed her finger to Ben’s lips with too much assertion for her age.

Rogan’s pulse raced at the sight.

“Age is just a number, right? Didn’t you say that once?”

Even in the darkness Rogan could see the curiosity on Ben’s face as he stared down at Arianna. Ben pushed her finger away gently, but let his grip linger over her small hand. With his other hand, he touched the side of her check affectionately. Rogan’s insides bubbled as he watched Benton Hollister flirt with his baby sister.

“Benton,” Rogan snapped. “Please unhand my little sister.”

Both Benton and Arianna stiffened at Rogan’s voice and stepped away from each other.

“Rogan,” Ben said casually. “I came by to talk to you.”

“Well, I know there’s a resemblance but better check your eyes.”

“C’mon now, don’t be so uptight. We were just talking.”

Rogan glared down at Arianna, who stood uncomfortably in a pair of too-short cotton sleep shorts and a fitted tee-shirt. Her hair was in two stick-straight black pigtails.

“Ari, go inside,” Rogan commanded. She began to protest but he snapped. “NOW.”

She gave Benton one last yearning look and bit her lip before turning to scamper into the house. Rogan turned back to Benton with narrowed eyes. He batted him in the side of the head with just enough force to show his irritation.

“What the hell is wrong with you? She’s a little girl Ben.”

“Calm down. I wasn’t doing anything perverse. She’s just a lovesick kid trying out her hand at flirting.”

“And it looked like you weren’t entirely opposed to giving her a few pointers.”

“I’m not a complete idiot, Rogan. I know how old she is. Believe it or not, I try to not go around corrupting children. And if you’ll recall, I haven’t been short on late-night company lately.” Rogan sighed and rolled his eyes.

“All right. Just stay away from her. You’ll break her damn heart.” Rogan pointed a finger firmly into Ben’s chest.

“I’ll do my best to let her down gently, okay?”

Rogan shook his head, smirking.

“Damn her. She’s going to be the death of me.”

“You’re not her da. You can’t control everything she does.”

“You’re right, I’m not. But I’m the only one who’ll look out for her and I’ve done a crap job of it so far. She’s running around playing with knives and seducing dirty rebels twice her age.”

“Hey, I’m not that old. And I bathe.”

“Yeah, well who says you’re the only one?” Rogan knew he’d be lucky if he’d kept Arianna out of some rebel’s arms at all, but he’d hoped she’d be slightly older before she started running around. He knew she was pretty with her mother’s raven hair and bright green eyes, paired with their father’s sharp jaw and high cheekbones.
And a damn stubborn wit.
Having to worry about her was the last thing he needed right now.

“So you came to see me?” Rogan said, bringing his mind off his sister.

“Yeah. I need to talk to you about something.” Ben bit his fingernail.

“Okay. Talk.”

“I’m going to Cable with the intel from…from my source.”

“Are you serious? We talked about this. Donal, he—”

“I know. I know we said we’d keep it under wraps until Donal came up with a plan, but we can’t. You were there tonight. You know what’s coming. I know Donal’s trying to do the right thing, but he doesn’t have a plan and I don’t think he ever will. He’s an old soul who’s sick of fighting, even if it’s what has to be done. There’s a reason he’s not in charge anymore.”

“But what if this just fuels the fire?”

“If Cable really thinks he can lead a revolution, he needs to know what he’s up against. Yeah, the Cause is going to be furious, but they should be. This is beyond unfair taxes. This is treason. If Pantone is in bed with the firms, well…” he trailed off, not needing to finish the thought. Rogan thought about his conversation with Cable.

“Anyway,” Ben continued. “I wanted to tell you first.”

Rogan ran his fingers through his hair and sighed

“Well, you’ll have my back on this, whichever way it goes.”

“I know,” Ben placed his hand on Rogan’s shoulder. “Whatever happens out there, we’re in this together.”

CHAPTER 16

The next morning he decided that he had to see her, if for no other reason than to warn her, to prepare her. She deserved to know what was happening. Maybe she could even do something about it. He thought about waiting outside the library, but it was too risky. There were too many eyes these days that knew his face. The son of Theron Elwood no longer had the protective cloak of childhood. He wasn’t even sure she was still volunteering there. He hadn’t heard a thing from her in nearly three months, save reading a scandalous article about her being caught topless on the beach in one of the salacious tabloids.
Lies.

At first, he’d thought he might cease to exist unless he felt her lips on his again. His body had burned and ached for her. He heard her voice in every girl he passed and saw her reflection in every window. It drove him practically insane, but as the weeks rolled past, he had come to realize his fate, if not accept it. But things were different now. The world was about to fall apart and she was in the dark.

He wasn’t sure how he was going to find her, but he had to try. It wasn’t a great plan—in fact it might be a very idiotic plan—but it was the only one he could come up with that morning at dawn as he stared blankly at the latest cases of Valley red. As usual, his employees didn’t think it strange that he would deliver a single case to the royal grand pantry and would do it by himself on his bike.

He eased his motorbike up the road, carefully looking from side to side for prying eyes. He might be paranoid, but better that than dead. The palace towers stretched out like two stone arms reaching for the sky, which glowed like fire with impending sunrise. He’d been up to the public palace gates before, but for public events with the winery, not to try and sneak in under false pretenses. Yet he had to risk it—he didn’t have a choice. When he reached the corner of the palace gate, he turned into the maintenance entry and parked. He took a deep breath, did his best to quell his acrobatic nerves, and unhooked the crate of wine from the back rack. Hoisting the crate, he walked to the receiving gate and approached a youthful, skinny royal guard with uneasy eyes and rosy cheeks, wearing a loose-fitting green uniform—undoubtedly some nobleman’s son fresh out of the Royal Academy.

“Morning,” Rogan greeted the guard.

The guard looked at him suspiciously and tried to assert his authority.

“Can I help you, boy?” The guard said, throwing back his shoulders.

Rogan smirked, noting they were likely the same age.

“I have a delivery of wine samples for…” he reached into his pocket, balancing the wine crate on one shoulder, and retrieved an order sheet. “For an Ada Harren.” He said a silent prayer that he was correctly remembering the name Elyra had mentioned a couple of times.

The guard twisted his mouth, eyeing the single crate.

“Ms. Harren does not typically make orders for the household, nor does the royal house order such small quantities of anything. Let me see that.” He yanked the order slip from Rogan’s hands and examined it, his eyes scanning each word.

“And Ms. Harren placed this order herself?” Rogan shrugged.

“Think so. My uncle took the order. I just do the heavy lifting.” Still balancing the heavy crate with one arm, he flashed his Elwood Vineyards identification badge. “The order slip said she was requesting samples for Her Highness’ dinner party next month. She ordered up some of our top vintages too. Must have good taste. And it sure is an honor for us to be able to serve.” Good or bad, the lie came easy.

“I see. Wait right here.” The guard took the order slip and walked over to a heavy-set, older guard slouched over a railing, looking both annoyed and bored to be on gate duty. The young guard showed the slip to his superior, who barely glanced at it before swatting his hand away, shouting something along the lines of, “
Don’t waste my time with this,”
and pointed to an intercom radio by the gate. The young guard scuttled over to it and punched in a series of numbers. After a brief conversation with the party on the other line, he returned to Rogan and sighed dramatically.

“All right then. I am to lead you to the pantry where Ms. Harren will review the order. I don’t know why she bothers herself with such menial things.”

The guard unlocked the gate and escorted Rogan into the main palace grounds. A sense of awe swept over him as Rogan brushed past ornately carved statues and pristine hedges carved into elaborate exotic animals—a giraffe, an elephant and a jungle cat. They walked down a winding path of well-groomed rose bushes, miraculous cascading water fountains, bursting orange trees and arching palms with gardeners and maintenance workers working away with their heads down, never glancing up at him.

The guard led him around the right side of the grand palace, standing like a massive ominous stone mountain, and to a mid-sized building to the back side of it. The large front door was open, revealing crates stacked to the ceiling.

“Set it down there,” the guard said, pointing to a wooden table set up outside the pantry building. “Ms. Harren will be here in a moment for inspection.”

After a few agonizing moments, a short woman in a long gray dress with a high collar walked toward him in a calm, controlled manner. She stopped in front of him, barely coming up to Rogan’s shoulder. Lips pursed and arms crossed, she stared at him inquisitively. She looked to the guard.

“Boris, I can handle things from here. Thank you for your help,” she said.

Boris seemed hesitant.

“Are you sure ma’am?” 

“Do you think I arrived yesterday boy? I said I have it. And I am no ma’am, thank you very much. Now, go back to guarding your little gate.” She flicked her hand in the air to shoo him away.

“Yes ma…Miss,” he stuttered and darted off.

Once he was out of earshot, Ada turned her attention back to Rogan and glared.

“What’s this about, then?” 

Rogan shrugged dumbly and pulled out the order slip.

“Don’t know your meaning, Miss. I have an order here for Ada Harren. The notes say it’s ‘a sampling of Elwood’s finest for her Royal Highness’ Solstice Soirée.’”

Ada smirked as if she were in on the scam.

“Does it now?” She took the order from Rogan’s hand. Rogan’s palms were beginning to sweat as he feared she would see right through his half-cocked lies.

“She does do the strangest things,” she muttered more to herself than him as she scanned the paper then handed it back to Rogan. She rolled her eyes. “I don’t understand the half of it.” She looked back to him as though she just realized he was there. “Well, anyway. Let me have a copy of that order slip so I can be sure to add it to our account…” her words trailed off as something caught her attention. She stared at him hard in the eyes with a look so heavy he took a step backward.

“Wait, I know you!” She came to an epiphany, then looking at his identification badge.

“Miss? I don’t believe so.”

She nodded and pointed a finger at him. He feigned indifference but nearly sighed with relief. He had been counting on her to recognize him.

“Yes. I know you from the markets. I thought I recognized the name of your vineyard. You’re the winemaker’s son. The one Elyra was dreamy-eyed over. It was a while ago, but I’ve always remembered your face. I’ve seen you there from time to time since.”

“Elyra?”

“The princess, son. That’s her name.”

“I’m there frequently but I’m sure I would remember meeting the princess.” He tried to remain calm and charming but his nerves were on fire.

“Well, she remembered you,” she said with a sly smirk. “I see why she was struck by you. That’s probably why she pulled this little prank. In the hopes she’d get a chance to see your handsome face. She’s devious like that.”

He couldn’t contain a small laugh at the idea. It
was
something she might do.

“Thank you,” was all he could manage and still keep his composure. She was walking too close to the truth and he needed to get this whole thing over with. “Well, I should be getting back. Can you please sign the delivery slip?” He extended the piece of paper and a pen. She obliged.

“Thank you for the delivery. I trust you can find your way back down to the entry gate?” He nodded.

Rogan dropped the crate of wine at the pantry then purposefully fumbled with the paperwork until Ada had turned her back to him.
Now was his chance.
He turned from the pantry casually and began walking back toward the entry gate. He looked over the sales slip as though he was just another person with daily business at the palace, but kept his eyes darting from side to side to watch for an opening. When he felt the area was clear, he ducked behind a work shed well-guarded by robust orange trees. He caught his breath and tried to decelerate his racing pulse. Then he waited. It felt like an eternity and he was beginning to think the plan was a complete bust until he finally spotted a shock of amber hair darting through the garden. Tension seized his body and he reminded himself to breathe. She was searching, anxious and wide eyed. Her hair was pulled back in a messy knot and she wore lightweight black dress that whipped and danced around her frame in the breeze. She moved closer to where he hid. When she was within arm’s length, he reached out and pulled her arm. She shrieked, but he thrust her to him, cupping her mouth from behind before the sound could travel far. He could feel her body stiffen in his arms and he took a split second to take in her scent.
God, how he had missed that scent.
He flipped her around, his hand still over her mouth. Her eyes—still two paralyzing gemstones glittering in the sunlight—widened. Slowly he removed his hand from her mouth, letting it linger on her flushed cheek.

“Rogan,” she breathed. “What are you doing here?”

“I was hoping she would tell you I was here.”

“Yes, she did. What kind of jackass plan is this? Are you crazy?”

He didn’t want to let her go, but he loosened his grip on her.

“Maybe. Probably. But I had to see you. God, I think you’ve gotten more beautiful,” he said without thinking.

“We have been through this—”

He put a finger against her lips to quiet her.

“I know. I’m not here about us. There are things I have to tell you.”

“You shouldn’t have come here. It’s too dangerous.” She looked over his shoulder and to the side, searching for spies. He pulled her deeper behind the shed into better camouflage.

“I know. But I didn’t know how to find you otherwise. It’s not as though I can just leave a message with the front desk.”

Elyra stifled a laugh.

“Fair enough. Well, what is it then?” Tendrils of fiery hair inched free from her knot, tickling her cheeks in the breeze. He resisted the urge to push them back.

“It’s kind of a long story.”

“Well I don’t have a lot of time. This place is crawling with royal guards. How did you even get in here?”

“Don’t worry about it. I know there are eyes everywhere right now. Can you meet me tonight? Late?”

“I…I don’t’ know if that’s a good idea Rogan. I can’t get involved with you.”

“I know that. And I’m not asking you to. But I told you, this isn’t about us. This is about the rebellion.”

“The what?” Fear inched into her eyes.

“I told you—long story. So can you?”

Elyra sighed, then relented.

“All right, yes. Past the receiving gate, there is an old dirt road that leads to one of the side entries to the gardens that no one ever uses. It hardly looks like anything now so it’s a little hard to see. I’ll be outside at nine. Avoid coming past the main entry on your way. Don’t be late.”

Rogan let a smile slip out. She had changed over the past months, but she was still the same headstrong girl he knew.

“I won’t.” They stood silently for a moment, the tension of so many things unsaid swirling between them. There was so much he wanted to say, wanted to do, but he didn’t dare. Instead, he clutched her chin in his hand and placed his lips on her forehead.

His nerves were racing as his bike crept up the back pathway, avoiding the busy main gates, following the mental map he had in his head. As he rose over the last lip of the paved road, he spotted the side path leading to the receiving gates, then the narrow dirt path spawning from there. When he saw that no one was there, he ducked down the path. She stood by a tree, leaning casually against it. Her long cinnamon waves were hidden by a simple navy blue head scarf and her body was covered in a fitted grey wrap coat.

 He pulled his bike up to her and raised his riding glasses. As usual, his disheveled hair and broken-in boots were a stark contrast to her elegance, but he didn’t care. She examined him for a moment, then her lips spread into shrewd smile that suggested she didn’t care either.

 “Nice ride,” she cooed. 

 “Thanks. So I’m here. Now what?” He kicked down the bike stand.

“This was your idea,” she said walking toward him. “I don’t meet in secret in the dark for just anyone.” She looked him up and down seductively, even if she wasn’t trying to be. He selfishly clung to the hope that their separation had torn her to bits as well.

“Why don’t I show you how fast this can go?” He motioned for her to get on.