Fireblood (12 page)

After we switch gaits, circling the plain a few more times, the sun begins to dip below the trees. Sebastian takes the reins and heads us back toward the castle. My elation ends, my stomach plummets. For a moment out here, with the wind in my face and open fields all around, I actually forgot where I was.

Now, I remember I have to go back.

As we ride up to the stable fence, Devlan opens the gate for us. A mixture of emotions passes through me, though I’m not sure I can pinpoint what they are. Sadness, regret for the loss of his parents. Admiration for his determination to become a knight, regardless of his treatment from Sebastian. Curiosity for who he really is, and why he came back here.

None of these are things I can ask him without revealing what Sebastian told me, and I feel that what is between them is private.

We sidle up next to the stable entrance and Devlan strides over to meet us. “The princess’ maid has been in an uproar that she’s been injured or lost.”

Sebastian laughs. “Well, the princess is back and in one piece. Her maid can relax.” I scoot forward so he has room to swing his leg over and dismount. He gives me a wink, then turns toward the glass door. My breath hitches as he inserts his key, and from my perch atop the horse, I see him enter his code: 2016.

The first year of the Final War.

Devlan extends his hand to me, his face drawn. “I had best deliver you to Maid Madity before she threatens to remove my limbs again.”

I accept his outstretched hand, attempting to rein in the smug smile that wants to overtake my face at having found out Sebastian’s code. I bounce off the horse, landing on my feet, which is quite different from the way Sebastian helped me down. As if Devlan’s trying to touch me as little as possible. Jumping off the horse isn’t as bad as I thought. I decide I can do it by myself from now on.

As he releases my hand, I wince. “Ow.”

“What?” Devlan says. “Are you hurt? What hap—” He stops short and eyes Sebastian.

I look between them, surprised at Devlan’s brash outburst. “Nay, I’m fine,” I say quickly, drawing their eyes to me. “My hands are just rubbed raw from the reins.” I press them together and they throb, hot and aching.

Sebastian takes my hands, turning them palm up. Bright red skin covers my palms and fingers. “Madity can fix a solution that will help.”

I nod, and Devlan takes one of my hands out of Sebastian’s grasp. He stares at the red flesh. “I’ve worked with horses a long time,” he says, not looking up. “I know something that will keep them from blistering.” He drops my hand as he looks at Sebastian. “With your permission, of course, Your Highness”

“Of course, Devlan,” Sebastian says. “See that Zara is taken care of.” He looks at me. “The lessons can wait until you’ve healed.”

My lips parts. “I’m fine. Honestly. I wish to continue my lessons.” My voice sounds more pleading than I’d like.

Sebastian grunts, a low rumble in his throat. “It could end up causing an open wound and becoming infected.” He eyes me. “We’ll wait till you’re better.”

“Come, princess,” Devlan says before I can argue further. “The prince is right.”

My shoulders slump, and even though I want to ensure that I’ll be training on the morrow, I follow behind Devlan as he walks away. I won’t win this right now.

Once we’re outside the fence, Devlan closes the gate and waits patiently for me to walk ahead of him. This time, I do so without debate. I don’t know why he’s chosen to be a knight, but my complaints about being treated like a princess now feel petty, at least compared to what I’m sure he’s dealt with over the years on his own, here at Court.

“Where am I going?” I ask as I wander toward the castle.

He walks up beside me. “The training grounds. There are salves and ointments the knights use during training.” He points behind the castle and off to the left. “Your hands will callous over in time.”

I huff. “But not overnight.”

His head darts in my direction. “Nay. Not overnight, princess.” His gaze bores into me, and I nearly stumble as I lock eyes with him.

Regaining my balance, I return to watching the ground. I can feel that either the ride or the dismount has worked my dagger around toward the back of my thigh. I’m through with my lessons for the day, though. It shouldn’t cause me any bother.

We don’t talk again until we reach the green tent. It sits at the far end of the grounds, past makeshift risers and a two-foot high, bricked-in showground. He holds back the flap for me and I walk inside. Large metal weapon cases decorate the sides of the tent, and tables topped with swords and armor clutter the open area. I’ve never seen so many weapons. Ever. The fact that they’re not permitted in Karm, at least not in the hands of regular citizens, and they’re so abundant here, causes me to shudder.

“It’s overwhelming,” Devlan says. “I know. When I first saw the armory, I couldn’t believe all the weapons were right out in the open.”

I glance around. “How is it possible?”

He walks toward one of the metal sword racks and unlatches the keychain from inside his vest, then unlocks the door. After pulling out one of the heavy-looking swords, he walks back over to me. “Here.” He holds the blade out, aimed toward the ground. “Run your finger over the edge.”

I mock-laugh. “I don’t think so.”

Devlan’s lips turn up on one side. Gently taking one of my injured hands, he looks into my eyes. “Trust me.” He runs my finger along the blade’s edge.

“No,”
I snap, but soon realize I’m not cut. I choke out a strained laugh. “It’s dull.”

“We’re not to train with actual swords.” He walks back to the metal case. “And these are used in the tournaments. Except for the last tourneys, when the stakes are raised.”

He rummages through a cabinet and stalks back over with a glass jar full of some clear, wiggly liquid. Setting it down on a large wooden table, he motions me over with a cock of his head.

“I can take care of it,” I tell him, reaching for the salve.

“No.” He takes my hands in his, guiding me toward a bucket below the table. I lower into a hunch as he dunks our hands in freezing water. “You have to cleanse first. But never with soap.” He turns his head to look over at me. “Soap will dry it out and cause the skin to tear.”

I flinch and try to ignore the stinging pain in my hands. As Devlan watches my face closely, his dark hair falls over one eye. I’m tempted to push it aside. He lifts my hands out and towels them off. I turn my hands palm up, waiting for the salve. Devlan only stares at me.

“What?” I ask.

He pats the table. “Hop up, princess.” When I raise an eyebrow questioningly, he explains, “So I can see your hands. Your stature makes it difficult to inspect them clearly in the dim light.”

My face flushes. “Is my height really that bothersome?” I step to the table, press my hands to the wood to lift myself up, and immediately wince.

“You’re going to have to work around your height limitations, princess.” He grasps my waist and lifts me onto the table.

I try to avoid his eyes, but his face is right before mine. He places his palms on the table, on either side of my legs, tilts his head, and studies me.

I shrug. “How was I supposed to get up here?” I say. “Magically levitate?” My joke gets no reaction from him. Not so much as a muscle twitch. His eyes continue to study my face. His stare is cold and hard, off-putting.

Finally, his eyes move from me to the jar. He unlatches the top and scoops the salve into his hand. “You have to think about every angle, every position, every way something can be done before the time to do it arrives.” He unfolds my hands, lightly running his thumb over the inflamed skin, then applies the ointment. It’s cold and greasy, but it immediately soothes, dousing the burning sensation.

“Why are you telling me this?” I keep my eyes trained on our hands—focus on the feel of his rough palms working the salve into mine.

He releases a heavy breath. “Because, it’s the first thing you need to learn before anything else. Even before riding a horse.” He takes my other hand and begins to treat it. “Be aware of your surroundings. Know what is around you and how to use it and your body in every situation. Even something as simple as getting atop a table.”

“Sebastian didn’t mention that while training me to ride today.” Peeking at him through my lashes, I gauge his reaction to Sebastian’s name. “Wouldn’t that be something a prince would know?”

“Princess, if things were handed to you all your life, and you never doubted they would continue to be, would you question how to attain them?”

“Nay,” I answer simply. “I suppose not.”

He bends down, grabs something from under the table, and comes back up with gauze. He wraps my hands thickly, one at a time, binding them tightly. “You seem unable to keep your hands in good condition.”

I attempt to ball my fists, but can barely move my fingers. “How am I to eat, or do anything else for that matter?”

He packs away the supplies. “You can remove the gauze tomorrow morning. The swelling should be gone by then.”

I quirk an eyebrow at his strange word for the morrow, but tuck it away.
Tomorrow
. I like it. “Thank you.” I watch him saunter across the tent. “Devlan?”

“Yes, princess?”

“Will I be able to ride by the afternoon, then?”

His shoulders slump. “Not if you’d like to be able to use your hands at all this week.”

I bite down on my lip. I know I can’t continue to push, but I don’t have time to waste. Now that I have the code, I’m another step closer. “What if I only do as you said,” I say, tilting my head. “Learn how to use my body to mount a horse, rather than use my hands fully?”

He turns toward me, his brow serious and furrowed. “Your determination is impressive, but I recommend waiting until next week.”

I jump down from the table. “Fine. I’ll wait.” I head toward the front of the tent. “Thank you for tending to my hands…again.” I give him a weak smile, and push back the flap.

“Princess.”

I halt my retreat, but don’t turn to face him.

“You have every intention of riding tomorrow, don’t you?”

I nod, still not looking at him. “I do.”

He nears me and steps through the tent opening. Sweeping his hand, he ushers me to walk ahead of him. “Then I have every intention of being there to make sure you don’t kill yourself.”

ELEVEN

I
impatiently wait for Sebastian to join me for breakfast in the atrium. Today, my goals drive me forward. I’m anxious to be out there learning to ride, although the thought of Devlan teaching me knots my stomach. I pick at my bread and sausage rather than clumsily using my fork.

Sebastian’s confession from yesterday buzzes around my brain like angry bees, thoughts stinging and swarming too loudly, making it difficult to think. It was easier to formulate an escape plan when he was merely a cocky, selfish jerk who wanted to take the throne.

Hunger wins out, and I scoop the utensil from the table with a huff. My fork is pushing my link through the drizzled honey when Sebastian finally enters. Two members of the Force trail him. My stomach lurches. Suddenly my breakfast looks less appealing.

Why are they here?

“Sorry I’m late,” Sebastian says. “But there were matters to tend to this morning.” His face is hard and unreadable. He sits in the chair next to mine. Apparently the prince doesn’t have to abide by formalities. He takes a sip of water from his goblet.

“Is everything all right?” I lower my voice. My eyes want to seek out the faces of the men who beat my father, but I keep them trained on Sebastian.

He forces a smile. “Of course.” The servant places his breakfast before him. “I have joust practice today for the upcoming tournament. I would very much like you to be there.”

The dry toast catches in my throat, and I swallow hard. “When is this?” It’s difficult to know how to behave toward him. If what he revealed yesterday was intended to alter my attitude toward him, his strategy is working. However, I haven’t forgotten that he was there overseeing the “questioning” of Mr. Levine.

His brow lifts as if he’s surprised that I haven’t shot down his invitation. “This afternoon. At the training grounds.” He smiles, and his eyes squint. “Will you be able to attend?”

As slyly as possible, I peek over at Devlan. He nods slightly, and I look Sebastian in the eyes. “I’ll be there.”

“Wonderful.” He pulls my hand from my lap. While bringing it before him, he removes the gauze. “I see Devlan fixed you up nicely. We should be able to continue riding lessons soon.”

I inhale a deep breath. “I’d like that.”

He releases my hand and picks up his fork. “I’ve sent one of the servants into town to get you a woman’s saddle. You’ll be able to ride alongside me with your own horse soon.”

My smile is authentic. “Thank you, Sebastian.”

Through the rest of breakfast, the two crimson-clad knights of the Force remain positioned on either side of Sebastian. I wonder what “matters” he’s tending to. I want to trust that he’ll stand by his convictions. That he’ll change the rule of Karm when his father is no longer here to influence him—to intimidate him. In time, he very well could be a good king. The Force’s presence, however, affirms my fear that we may never see that day.

Until I see proof of this change, I’ll continue to learn all that I can. I have a feeling I’m going to need to be at my best to survive Karm—whether I’m outside the walls of the castle or inside them.

When Sebastian leaves early for the training grounds, I exhale heavily and slump in my chair. “I’m ready.”

Devlan pushes off the glass window. “Then why are you still seated, princess?”

I scowl at him, shove my chair back, and head for the door.

* * *

“Why can’t we take Hawken?” I pout as I look over Devlan’s black horse. She’s beautiful, but I already feel comfortable with Hawken, and Devlan’s horse intimidates me. Especially if she’s anything like Devlan.

He adjusts the saddle, placing a pillion at the back. “Because,” he says, his voice deep and strained, “she is the prince’s horse. I’m not taking his horse when I have my own.”