Defiance (7 page)

“Where did you go?”

“Rowansmark.” More pain. More blood.

Logan makes a sound that reminds me of a starving alley dog stalking his next meal.

The Commander smiles. “And here is where you give me either your secrets or your life.” His sword tip digs into my chin, and tears sting my eyes. “Did anything unusual happen on the trip to Rowansmark?”

I glance at Logan. His face is white. I can read the plea for silence in his eyes as easily as if he’d begged aloud. But I believe the Commander’s promise to kill me. And this is my only way out of Baalboden to track Dad. I have to tell the truth.

I try to tilt my chin away from the sword’s tip and pray I’m not making the biggest mistake of my life. “Yes.”

B
lood runs down Rachel’s neck and her body trembles. Something ugly fills my chest, begging to be unleashed. It was foolish of her to risk so much to go searching for Jared. It was also incredibly brave. I know she thinks she’s ready to pay the price for this act of courage, but I can’t stand the thought of watching another woman I care about die.

I should’ve seen this coming. If I had, she might not be trapped at the point of the Commander’s sword. Scanning my surroundings, I start cataloging my options.

We’ve been joined by the turret’s pair of guards, back from their sunset inspection of the Wall. The room feels cramped and the smell of warm bodies and rain-damp cloaks chokes the air.

“So, to the matter at hand.” The Commander removes his sword from Rachel’s throat, and the tightness constricting my chest eases a fraction. We have a chance. As long as he thinks we have something to offer, we have a chance.

Lantern light flickers along the blood-red stone the Commander wears on the ring finger of his left hand. The gold dragon talon bisecting the stone glows softly, and I look away.

He’s watching Rachel. “You say something unusual happened. What was it?”

She casts me a quick look, but there’s nothing I can do to stop this. Not until I see what he really wants, and how to convince him that keeping us alive is his only chance at succeeding.

“Someone gave him a package. Not an official one, but after we were almost out of Rowansmark,” she says.

His dark eyes gleam. “And did he open it?”

She hesitates for a fraction of a second before saying, “Of course not.”

He steps closer to her, his fist gripping his sword handle until the veins in his hands bulge. “We’ve had peace with Rowansmark for nearly four decades. Do you know why?”

“Because neither of us has the technology to destroy the other?” Rachel asks, holding his gaze while she repeats a line I’d heard Jared say countless times. My stomach drops. Now is not the time to call the Commander on his actions. Those in the courier trade are well aware of the animosity between Commander Chase and his former major James Rowan. Most of the missions to Rowansmark are spy assignments disguised as ordinary trade negotiations. The Commander has made it his business to know everything James Rowan might be up to.

I have to wonder if Jared disappeared because Rowan has been busy doing the exact same thing to the Commander.

“Interesting theory,” he says. “Did you hear that from your father after he opened the package?”

“He never opened it. At least, not in front of me.”

“Where is it?”

“He hid it on the journey back.”

“Because he planned to return it to Rowansmark?” His voice cracks the air, full of fury, and Rachel jumps.

“He would never do that! He’s loyal to Baalboden.”

“You have one chance to prove that to me. Where did he hide it?” His sword arm flexes as he raises the blade toward Rachel’s face.

“I’m not sure. But I know where we went, and I know Dad’s hiding places,” she says, sounding so confident that I’m sure the Commander will believe he needs her to help find the package. Now, he needs to be convinced to send me with her. There’s no way I’m letting Rachel travel the Wasteland alone with the Commander’s Brute Squad.

“I know where it is,” I say.

All eyes turn toward me. I find the Commander’s dark gaze and hold it steadily.

“More secrets?” he asks softly, and pivots toward me, his sword pointing with unwavering accuracy toward my throat. The Brute Squad guards on either side of me tighten their grip on my arms, but I refuse to struggle. I’m not going to give the Commander that satisfaction.

“Rachel’s right. She knows where they traveled and what safe houses they used on the journey. But Jared spoke to me about the package. Things he refused to share with Rachel.”

The Commander’s expression is tinged with malice, and the tension in the room coils within me like a living thing.

“Tell me what he told you,” he says.

I can’t. Revealing information now would cancel out my usefulness and possibly Rachel’s as well. Plus, I don’t have any information to reveal. I’m betting he wants the package enough not to call my bluff. I don’t want to consider the consequences if I’m wrong.

“I’m not sure I can accurately describe the locations he gave me. I believe I need to see it to know it,” I say. “Rachel can guide me to the general location, and I’ll take it from there.”

He snarls at me. “Do you think you’re that valuable to me, Logan McEntire?”

There’s no right answer. If I say yes, I’ll be killed to prove my words false. If I say no, any chance I have of accompanying Rachel will disappear, and I’ll probably be killed for my interference.

“My value is for you to decide. Sir.” I nearly choke on the
sir
.

The Commander slams the flat of his sword onto my shoulder, slicing into my skin. Rachel gasps and slides her hand beneath her cloak. I have a terrible suspicion there’s a weapon hidden in there.

She’s going to get herself killed defending me if I can’t defuse this, but I don’t know how. My stomach clenches as I frantically run scenarios and try to see a way out of this. There isn’t one, unless the Commander believes we’re both necessary to getting him what he wants.

Please let him believe we’re necessary to getting him what he wants.

“Jared Adams has something I need,” he says. “You and the girl will get it back for me.”

Relief rushes through me. “I understand.”

He spits his words at me. “You listen to me, inventor who likes to play with words. You are replaceable. The girl is replaceable. I won’t hesitate for a second to spill her blood and find another willing to take her place. Do you really think the life of any one citizen matters in comparison to what I decide Baalboden needs?”

Before I can do more than draw in a sharp, panicked gasp of air, he spins on his heel and lunges toward Rachel, his sword raised.

“R
achel!” Logan throws himself forward, struggling to get free of the Brute Squad holding him in place.

My back slams against the table as the Commander’s sword flashes by me and plunges deep into the chest of the guard beside me. The man makes a wet gurgling noise in the back of his throat and reaches one hand up to grasp the blade embedded in his chest. Blood pools beneath his palm and slides along the silver in a single, sinuous streak as he slowly crumples to the floor. His eyes lock on the Commander’s until the knowledge within them hardens into the far-seeing gaze of the dead.

I can’t remember how to move.

The Commander places one booted foot on the guard’s shoulder, grabs the hilt of his sword with two hands, and tugs. The blade comes free with a damp, sucking sound, flinging stray droplets of blood into the air as the ring on the Commander’s finger glistens wetly beneath the torchlight.

I gag, and the Commander holds his bloody sword to my throat. My knife feels useless in my numb fingers. It was so much easier to imagine killing a man before I realized what that looked like.

“I warned you I’d teach you your place,” the Commander says softly.

I can’t speak around the sickness rising up the back of my throat. The metallic tang of blood swamps my senses. I hold my breath, but that just forces me to swallow blood-tainted air until I feel like screaming.

He smiles. Reaching out, he fingers a long strand of my hair. The spit dries in my mouth, and I feel foolish clutching my knife beneath my cloak as if it could possibly save me.

The Commander looks at Logan, letting my hair slide slowly through his fingers. “I was going to threaten her life to gain your complete cooperation, but I’ve changed my mind. It would be a shame to extinguish such spirit before one has had the opportunity to tame it, don’t you think?”

Something desperate and dark awakens within me, biting through my stomach like bile. I want to slap his hand away from me, but with the sword still at my throat and Logan restrained by guards, I can’t move.

Logan looks like he’s going to be sick, but beneath his pallor I see something I never knew he was capable of: rage. If the Commander notices, he doesn’t react. He’s too busy looking at me like I’m his next meal. I shudder at the predatory gleam in his eye. I can’t decide if he wants to kill me or Claim me as his own.

“Sir—” Logan begins.

“Instead, I’ve decided the terms of your service to me will be thus: Give me your word you’ll return what belongs to me, and I’ll let you live. Otherwise, the girl will need to be assigned another Protector while she retrieves my package for me.” He reaches out and brushes a stray drop of blood from my cheek, and I shiver. “I’m sure I can find a man willing to take her on.”

“That won’t be necessary.” Logan’s voice shakes.

“Your word?”

“You have it.”

“You may take a few days to gather your supplies and plan your trip. Notify me when you’re ready to depart. I’ll be sending guards to accompany you.” Abruptly, the Commander turns from me, wipes his blade on the cloak of the dead man beside us, and strides toward the doorway. “Toss that mess into the Wasteland,” he says to the remaining turret guard, and then he and his Brute Squad disappear into the night.

I
can’t speak past the anger flooding me as we leave the Wall behind and walk through the deserted streets of Lower Market. The image of the Commander eyeing Rachel in her skintight pants while rubbing the back of his hand against her bloodstained cheek fills my head, and I plow my fist into the wall of the wooden stall beside me.

Rachel jumps and gives me a sidelong look. She’s only seen the man I made myself into after Oliver took an interest in me. She has no idea the kind of things I’m capable of when backed into a corner.

But I know, and punching a wall is the best option available to me unless I plan to do something far more destructive with my anger. Like draw my sword against the Commander.

“Feel better?” Rachel asks, and I punch the wall again just to keep from letting my anger loose on her. Not that she doesn’t deserve some of it.

I shake out my hand and take hold of her arm as we leave Lower Market behind. I have to calm down.
Think
. The Commander now knows for certain Jared received a package he didn’t deliver. And he understands he’s found a useful tool in Rachel’s fervent belief that she can save her father.

And none of it would’ve happened if she hadn’t tried to sneak over the Wall.

“You’re hurting me,” she says as she matches my pace through the torch-lit streets.

“You’re lucky,” I say.

“That you’re hurting my arm?” Her voice is full of its usual sass, but I hear the unsteadiness beneath it.

“You’re lucky I’m not wringing your neck.”

She remains quiet, and I soften my grip.

We move past the ridiculous wealth of Center Square, where multistoried homes gleam beneath the warmth of lanterns hung at their doorways, and no one inside knows what it’s like to go hungry. When I was a boy, lonely and wild, I used to walk Center Square at night, imagining the perfect lives of the families who lived inside such beauty and wishing I belonged with one of them. That was before Oliver and Jared reached out to me, and I learned that true family is found in those who choose you. Wealth has nothing to do with it.

Leaving Center Square behind, we move south. The houses grow smaller. With the street torches further apart, the alleys darken, and I scan the streets constantly, cataloging potential threats, discarding those I know we can handle with our eyes shut, and planning our escape route from those we might not be able to avoid.

“What were you thinking?” I ask her as we round the corner into South Edge. Here the street torches disappear, and the only visible light hovers timidly behind windows boarded shut. I finally let go of her arm and reach for my sword even as she slides her knife free. Only a fool walks through South Edge unarmed.

“I was thinking Dad needs to be rescued,” she says, her tone sharp.

Something moves in an alley to our left, and I pivot around her back and resume walking, putting my body and my sword between her and the yawning darkness of the alley’s mouth.

“Let me get this straight.” I bite off each word to keep from spitting them at her. “You want to rescue your dad, so you decide to sneak over the Wall alone? Do you have a death wish?”

“Don’t be an idiot.” She sounds like she’s gritting her teeth. “I didn’t know the Commander had his guards following us.”

“Of course you didn’t. Because you’re so wrapped up in missing Jared, you refuse to look at anything else.” I regret the words as soon as I say them. I hadn’t realized we were being followed either, and as her Protector, it was my responsibility to see it.

I press my palm to the small of her back and guide her to the opposite side of the street. The heat from her skin seeps into mine and feels like comfort.

Which is proof my ability to think logically seems to be compromised. I’m beginning to worry being responsible for Rachel has somehow thrown me permanently off-kilter.

She steps away from my hand. “At least one of us is caught up in missing him.”

“Who says I don’t miss him?” A shadow moves out of a doorway behind us. A man. Taller than me by about two inches, but I have him by a good twenty pounds. Plus, he’s limping. Still, I wrap my hand around her arm again and pull her through someone’s backyard, over a small fence, and onto the street running parallel to the one we were just on.