Rebel Song (14 page)

“You want me to get on that thing? With you?”

He nodded.

“Scared?” He raised an eyebrow.

She sauntered up to the bike and ran her finger along the handle. He felt his insides ignite at the mere sight of her hand running along the worn metal and he tightened his muscles to keep from toppling over.

“Hop on,” he said as coolly as he could manage. Elyra hesitated and looked from side to side, but ultimately lobbed her legs over the bike and flung her arms around his middle.

“Hold on.” He took hold and let the bike fly.

 They tore through the countryside, dipping in and out of peaks and valleys as the darkness deepened. One by one, sparkling stars popped out of the navy blanket above to light their way. Elyra clung desperately to his body, sending jolts of electricity up his spine. Finally, he slowed the bike to a gentle pace as they approached a serene meadow split by a still pond, surrounded by thick trees. He drove around to a flat clearing with a smooth, sandy beach dipping into water shimmering with starlight reflection. Elyra dismounted the bike, her eyes wide.

“It’s beautiful here. How do you know about this place?” She removed her scarf and coat and scanned the scenery. Her fiery tendrils were every which way.

Rogan looked around longingly, remembering the long summer days fishing with his da while his mom lazily strummed her guitar and wrote in her journal. Ari would splash her toddler toes in the water and all would be right in the world.

“I used to come here as a kid. My mom liked sitting out here in the summer while she wrote.”

“What did she write?”

Rogan shrugged and his smile faded.

“I don’t know. Stupid things—nothing.” He raised the wall around his heart quickly.

“Sounds like a nice memory,” Elyra smiled and touched his shoulder with searing fingertips. He shook her off.

“C’mon.” He led her toward the water. From his pack he unloaded two grey blankets made of soft wool and laid them out on a flat patch of sandy shore.

“I was so shocked to see you at the palace,” Elyra admitted as they sat on the blankets. “You risked a lot coming there. If anyone had seen us together…” she shook her head.

“I know, but I needed to see you.”
For more than one reason
. “Will anyone notice that you’re gone?”

“Hardly. The only one who pays much attention to my comings and goings is Ada and she thinks I’m studying tonight. Important geography exam tomorrow as part of the internship,” she said with a hint of sarcasm.

“And should you be studying?”

Elyra laughed.

“Please. I can list every country backward. My tutor thinks I’m a complete imbecile.”

“They all underestimate you, don’t they?” He couldn’t contain a smile. “It’s so good to see you. It’s been so long.”

She smiled but her expression was sullen.

“It has been a long time. So much has changed. You’ve changed.” She looked him in the eye intently as if she were searching for something. Then she remembered herself. “I hope you are well. And your family? How are they?”

“You don’t even know them,” he said more coolly than he intended. Part of him was still angry with her for abandoning him.

She pursed her lips.

“I was just trying to be polite.”

“Since when are you polite around me?”

“Since I don’t know how to act around you anymore. I haven’t seen you in months and you just show up one day in the palace garden with cryptic warnings.”

“And whose fault is that? You were the one who walked away, not me.”

“I had no choice. We were stupid to think anything could happen between us.” Her words slapped him like a hand.

Rogan clenched his jaw and lowered his eyes. He came here to warn her and that’s what he was going to do. Nothing more.

“Don’t worry. I don’t have any expectations of you anymore.”

“So you have me here. What is it that you want?” She sighed.

You,
is what he wanted to say—wanted to shout.

“Where do I begin? So much is going on. There are some things happening out there that you need to know about.”

“Out where?”

“Out in the city. In the streets. In the shadows.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“Rogan, you’re talking in riddles.”

“What do you know about the rebellion?”

“I wasn’t aware there was one. I heard it’s just a bunch of angry farmers upset about taxes.”

Rogan nodded.

“I figured as much. I suppose it’s safe to say that there isn’t exactly a full on rebellion going on, but people are getting…restless.”

“Restless?” She repeated the word more like a statement than a question. He nodded. “Pantone would have us all believe they’re wielding pitchforks in the streets, but I’ve yet to see that.”

“There is a lot of unrest about the way things are in the government. I think you know that.”

“Yes, I know a lot of people are asking for change. And we are working toward that. Believe me.”

“I know you are. But some people are sick of waiting. They don’t believe that things ever will change as long as the same people are in power.”

“I can understand that. But why was this so important that you bring me out here in the middle of the night? It isn’t exactly breaking news.”

“I need you to be prepared for things to escalate. I feel like something bad is going to happen and I don’t know how to stop it.”

“What are you talking about, Rogan? How do you know these things?”

Rogan touched his finger to his forehead and pressed hard.
How much could he really tell her? Could he trust her?

“I know people involved.” It wasn’t a lie. It was just a half truth.

“People? Which people?”

“I can’t tell you that. I won’t betray the trust of my friends. But I can tell you that things are escalating and it won’t be long before the violence erupts everywhere. You need to push for reform before it’s too late.”

“Reform?” Her eyes were helpless.

“Yes. You have the chance to save lives here. We—the people of this country—need your voice where it counts.”

“Rogan, I have no power. I’m a nobody. Just a council intern with a fancy title.”

“How can you say that? You’re a princess. The next in line to run the country.”

“In theory,” she sighed.

“Now who’s talking in riddles?” Rogan laughed.

“What I mean is that they—my father, Pantone, most of the council—would rather see just about anyone take the seat other than me. They just see me as some little girl with a big head full of empty ideas.”

“Sometimes I think this country still lives in the dark ages,” Rogan shook his head. “But lucky for all of us, you’ll change all that.”

Elyra smirked.

“If I ever get the chance. It’s such a strange thing. Being the
Princess Royale,”
she said the title dramatically.

“Oh yeah? Do enlighten me.”

“I’m serious. Your whole life is just waiting around for a position that you won’t get until your parent dies. Until then, you have no real purpose.”

“I never thought of it in those terms.”

“Once upon a time, far, far away, a prince might rise to kingship while he still stood straight. But now? These old men could live forever.”

“That’s true. I read the emperor of Khan is nearly eighty and the prince is already riddled with arthritis.”

“See what I mean?”

“Maybe your da will retire at a reasonable hour then. I hear abdication is becoming more common in some parts.”

Elyra bleated a laugh.

“Not likely! I don’t think kings retire in Arelanda.” She paused for a few moments, taking in the tranquil surroundings.

“It’s most likely a blessing though. It’s a life plagued with stress and façade. No one ever sees past the title and the wealth. You’re either feared for your fist or wind up a political stepping stone for those around you. Don’t be too liberal or your enemies find you weak. Be too hard and your people hate you. It’s a losing game either way.”

“Henri doesn’t know how lucky he is to have a daughter like you,” Rogan said, admiring her. “You don’t take any of it for granted.”

“If he had it his way, I’d have nothing to do but sit around choking on my own spare time. Sometimes I wish I could just get on the next cruise ship leaving the docks and never look back.”

“Not a terrible plan.”

“Do you ever wonder what it would be like to do something like that?”

“This question from the girl who has seen the world?”

“Oh sure, I’ve seen the world. On the arms of the Secret Guard, under the watchful eye of Ada and my father. The part of the world they want me to see—the palaces of ambassadors and dignitaries,” she sighed. Then in a prim voice said, “I’ve dined with a sultan, I have played chess with an emperor’s daughter and endured countless hours of croquet with more well-bred people than I care to count. But that’s not the world.” She stared up at the stars.

“You know you have the freedom to do all those things.”

She only sighed in response, shaking her head slightly to the side.

“No, what I wonder, is what life is truly like out there. Do the people die in the streets from poverty as they do in Arelanda? Are their leaders sleeping with one eye open for fear of revolution?”

“Does it matter? We are what we are here. All we can do is handle what has been given to us.”

“But it does matter,” Elyra straightened abruptly. Rogan stiffened and met her eyes. “It matters. It matters when you come here telling me that I need to save the world. I need to know that this isn’t it—that others have found a way.”

Without thinking, Rogan squeezed her hand. Her body tensed at his touch.

“It will be all right.”

She ripped her hand from his grasp and stood.

“Don’t talk to me like you’re one of them. It won’t just be all right.”

“I just meant—”

“Save it. You’re just like everyone else. Always trying to pacify me. You come here with cryptic warnings of revolutions and violence in the streets. How I have to make things right. Then, you just tell me it will be all okay. Make up your mind.”

“Calm down. You’re taking this way too personally.”

“Don’t tell me how I feel,” she growled and stood up.

Rogan jumped to his feet.

“You know, you preach about how no one will be honest with you but I can’t say a damn thing around you without you losing your temper. If you don’t want to be treated like a child, don’t act like one!”

She raised her hand in fury as if to strike but he caught it, grasping her wrist tightly. She glared at him, fire in her eyes.

“Don’t do that princess. I am not your whipping boy.”

She struggled against his grip but she was no match for his strength. And now that he held her, he was loathe to let her go.

“Let go of me.”

“Not until you calm down. I don’t feel like being slapped just now.”

Every fiber of resentment she could muster poured out of her eyes. Rogan’s heart was pounding as the touch of her skin against his flamed the inferno inside him.

“I never should have come out here with you.” She gave another tug to wrench her wrist free, twisting her body away from him, but he held fast.

His heart was panicking and his breath was caught in his throat. Fire licked at his belly; climbed up his throat.
Don’t,
he told himself.
Don’t go there.
But he couldn’t help it. He pulled on her arm and thrust her into his chest, her body tightened then fell placid as her fury relented. His fingers found her cheek, then slowly made their way to brush her lips. He could feel her quiver as she closed her eyes and absorbed his touch, no longer struggling. He ran his hands to her throat and brushed the silky skin of her neck, feeling the breath move inside her as she grasped for air. His face pulled closer to hers and lingered, close enough to feel the heat from her cheeks, close enough to feel the nerve endings of her soft lips.

“Yes, you should have,” he whispered before crushing her lips with his own. Clutching her slender waist with desperation, he pulled her into him. She didn’t resist. Her mouth parted in hunger and he felt the hot silk of her tongue move against his in a long-awaited dance.

They collapsed to the blankets into a pile of kisses and impatient grasping fingers.
How long had he been dreaming about this moment?
Heat seared through him like they were lying on a bed of coals, but shivers still prickled up his arms. He ran his hand through her hair, gently tugging until she whimpered. He knew they should stop, but he couldn’t. He didn’t have the willpower to separate his lips from hers, to peel away from her body. He wanted her too much—all of her. He felt the curve of her hips as his hand ran over her frame, savoring every bend and twist, cupping the soft swell of her small breasts. He touched his lips to her neck, then her collar, breathing in the scents of vanilla and cinnamon. She pressed into his body so hard he thought he might burst. His hand began to sweep up the smooth, taut skin of her belly, urging her shirt up. Then like the rip of a bandage, he felt her hand on his chest, pushing him away. He snapped back to reality, opening his eyes to look down at hers.