Rebel Song (3 page)

Rogan gnawed at his fingernail some more. Every instinct told him to decline, but he nodded anyway.

“I can be there.”

She grinned, radiating excitement.

“I’ve got to go. I’ll see you in two weeks.”

As he watched her scamper away he couldn’t fight down the overwhelming feeling that he was making a huge mistake.

CHAPTER 4

The following Tuesday, Rogan found himself toward the back of the low-lit basement of the Brigg Cannery for their monthly Cause meeting. His eyes weeded through the tension to take in the scene. The room was full tonight—he spotted dozens of faces who had worked on his family vineyard over the years—faces of his father’s life. The smell of fish, salt and sweat clung to the rigid air as the room buzzed with hushed, uneasy chatter, blending together into one muffled whisper. The topic of the meeting was Kal Barrymore, a promising young city politician who’d fallen to a city ranger’s gun—under direct orders from the infamous captain of the city guard, Captain Demos—a few days prior at a protest in the square. The plague of frantic violence spread more rapidly through Arelanda City each day. How long before it consumed them all?

“Spy!” A raspy whisper shattered Rogan’s contemplation. He swung around—nearly falling from his seat—and saw Benton grinning beside him. Ben’s sandy hair was overgrown and sticking out in every direction and he had a large grass stain down the front of his white tee shirt. Two of his fingers were bound together in a small splint and his knuckles were newly scabbed with blood.

“Shhh!” Rogan hissed. “You’re late. The meeting started nearly half hour ago.”

“Oh relax,” Ben said, taking a seat. “Had to stop by my da’s.”

Rogan glanced at Ben’s taped fingers.

“I’m guessing it didn’t go so well?” Rogan asked. Benton smirked.

“He’d had a few pints before I got there. We may have argued. So what’d I miss?”

“It’s more of the same. Cable is pretty fired up. Half the room just wants us to lay down in a puddle in King Henri’s path.”

Ben just grinned. He thought the whole idea of a second rebellion was wildly amusing. The crowed began to grumble again with debate.

“I see Iris is here,” Ben nodded his head toward the pretty brunette sitting by her father at the front of the room.

“Yeah, not surprising. She’s always here,” Rogan responded dryly, allowing her only a quick glance.

“What’s up with you two, anyway?”

Rogan turned to face Ben.

“What? Nothing is up. She’s just Iris.”

“Don’t lie. You’re telling me she’s all over you and you’re not doing anything about it?”

Rogan turned his focus back to the front of the room and nodded.

“That’s what I’m saying. C’mon, she’s Donal’s daughter.”

“So what?”

“So, I’ve known her my whole life. She’s practically a sister.”

“You have got to be kidding,” Ben laughed. “Have you seen her…” he made a lewd cupping gesture over his chest.

“You’re an idiot. If you think she’s so great, why don’t you go for her?”

Ben’s full lips spread into a devious grin.

“If only I could, brother. Sadly, pretty sure she only has eyes for the dark and mysterious Rogan Elwood.”

“Just shut up. Pay attention.”

They turned their attention back to the arguments unfolding at the front of the room.

“Quiet!” Cable Harris hushed the crowd. He stood beside the podium with crossed arms, his shaggy brown hair tied back. He stood stoic and composed, but his face was weighted with sorrow and his eyes hid beneath heavy bags, begging for the respite of sleep.

The eager buzz quieted to low whispers and finally silence.

“We have suffered a terrible loss,” Cable went on.

“Yeah, not just one!” Ben piped in.

“Ben. How nice of you to join us finally,” Cable said. “True. We have suffered many terrible losses. But this has been perhaps the most grievous. This time the Sants have stolen one of our brightest beacons of hope.”

“He wasn’t stolen. He was murdered
,
” Rogan interjected. The crowd echoed in agreement. “Kal was working toward real change and he was struck down unarmed.”

“Yes,” Cable agreed. “Murder is an apt name for what they did.”

“What are you going to do about it then?” Benton said.

“What can we do, Ben?” Rogan said, shaking his head. “Politely ask the King for justice?”

“
Demand
justice!” Benton fired back. A few others offered shouts of agreement.

“That’s not going to accomplish anything but get us all killed,” Rogan said. The crowd again murmured in agreement.

“People are dying anyway, Rogan,” Ben said through gritted teeth.

“Yeah, well I’m not that eager to jump in front of a firing squad okay? Murder or not, we can’t just storm the castle.”

Donal Rawdry stood up then and raised his hands to silence the crowd. He rubbed his graying beard and sighed. A lifelong soldier, Donal had been an integral part of the first rebellion, fighting alongside all of their fathers.

“Boys, please. Ben, I appreciate your enthusiasm for our cause, but you are young. You don’t truly understand the magnitude of what you’re saying,” Donal said. 

“Is he?” Cable interjected before Ben could argue on his own behalf. “He’s nearly seventeen. If you’ll remember, Donal, I was his age when they shipped me east to fight for our freedom. If he’s old enough to enlist in His Majesty’s service—if he’s old enough to die for us—shouldn’t he have a say in how we go about killing him?”

The crowd’s murmurs climbed the walls.

“I would prefer if we didn’t put any more children in the line of fire, Cable. You, of all people, should appreciate that. Wouldn’t you spare them the tragedy of war?” Donal said.

“Children?” Cable snorted and stepped down from the podium. He walked toward Ben and Rogan. “You need to wake up, Donal. War is here and the
children
are the ones who are going to fight it. You, Jon Montall, the Elwood brothers—you all fought hard in the first rebellion. But guess what? You lost that war. And now
they
are truly going to pay unless something changes,” he pointed to Ben, then flicked a sharp finger to Rogan.

Rogan’s skin smoldered at Cable’s words. He thought about all the losses they’d already suffered—his da, his Uncle Colt. It was sickening to think that it wasn’t enough.

“We’re not children,” Ben seethed.

“No, my friend, you are not,” Cable smiled and nodded at him. 

“To you he isn’t,” Donal went on. “You’re hardly out of diapers yourself, Cable.”

At that, Cable’s calm demeanor cracked and his mouth curled into a snarl.

“Is that right?” Cable asked. “While half the people in this city were getting fat and drunk and drooling over dreams of war, I was living it on the plains of Hell. In my opinion, I’ve already lived ten lifetimes.”

The room fell into uneasy silence.

“As always, Cable, you make the bleeding heart’s point,” Donal said. “But we can’t win a war with sentiment.”

“We can’t win this war laying down in the road either,” Cable retorted. A wave of agreement crashed through the room.

“It seems you would all take on all of Europe in your bloodlust,” Donal sighed and shook his head.

Rogan glanced at Benton. The wheels turned behind his smoldering eyes as he chewed on the arguments, fingering the short throwing knife slung through his belt. He was fairly certain Ben came out of the womb a rebel.

“Cable’s right,” Benton shouted. “We can’t just let the King wipe his boots on our backs.”

“I don’t see what a band of farmers and fishermen is going to do about it,” Rogan sighed to no one in particular, looking out at the crowd of despairing, frightened faces. Did they really think some motley militia from the wrong side town could really change anything?

“What your da did and what they all did before us.
Fight
,” Ben insisted.

“Yeah, look where it got them!” Rogan snapped, flashes of blood and screams haunting his mind.

“And are you going to let your da’s death be for nothing?”

Rogan’s retort caught in his throat.
No
,
he would never let it be in vain. He would not forget his father’s sacrifice.

“Can’t imagine the King is very intimidated by pruning shears,” Rogan said.

“No, he won’t be. But that’s what I’m counting on,” Ben bared a toothy grin.

“Ben, I’m not suggesting we just start a war,” Cable added.

“Then what
are
you suggesting?” Rogan asked—begged—desperately hoping someone had an answer that didn’t involve any more bloody streets and haunted widows.

“Although he grossly underestimates us, Donal has a point. Our next steps must be thought out and calculated,” Cable said.

Ben let out an audible grunt.

“Whatever. I’ve heard enough tonight. Enjoy your tea party, ladies,” Ben threw up his hands. He pushed himself up from the table and turned.

“Ben! You can’t just walk away when I don’t agree with you,” Cable said. “Ben, I’m talking to you. Stop!”

Ben turned back to face Cable, his smoky eyes narrowed into slits.

“Why? This is a waste of time. All you ever do is
talk
. When do we actually
do
something?”

“I am doing something. I’m planning, leading.”

“Why don’t you just kiss Henri’s ass and call it a day, Cable? Seems that’s all you want to do anyway.”

“Benton Hollister, you impetuous little shit,” Cable growled. “Just like your drunk of an old man, aren’t you?”

Before Rogan knew what was happening, Ben’s fist was kissing Cable’s jaw. Cable tumbled back and Ben swung violently, as Donal and Rogan both grabbed Ben from behind and struggled to hold him back.

“You two-faced son-of-a-bitch!” Ben’s face was a twisted mask of rage.

“Ben, calm down,” Rogan tried to pacify him. “It’s not worth the bruises.” Rogan glared at Cable, whose muddled expression reflected he knew he’d crossed the line.

“Ben, I’m sorry. That was a low blow and uncalled for,” Cable said, rubbing his jaw. Ben struggled against his bonds and glared.

“Is this who you want running our cause?” Ben sneered to the crowd. “Someone who’s afraid of blood on his hands?”

“There is a big difference in unwillingness to what’s needed and being some irrational, blood- thirsty kid,” Cable said.

Ben spat a scarlet wad on the floor next to Cable’s boots.

“Last I checked, a taste of blood never hurt anyone.”

CHAPTER 5

Rogan sat on a bench by the lion fountain in Plaza Hiro, trying not to stare at the patch of stone where Elwood blood had once run. He nervously picked at his fingernails and whipped his head up every time he heard a female voice. The clamor of the plaza was a blur of merchant shouts, idle chatter and the busy traffic of work trucks and motorbikes zipping through the narrow cobblestone streets. He wasn’t quite sure what he was even doing there. So he had met some mysterious girl who was trying out her hand at rebellion for the first time.
So what?
There were plenty of girls in the Valley he could chase if he cared to. Hell, Iris would barely leave him alone. But something about all of them seemed too commonplace, too much a part of his everyday lackluster life—too
attainable.
He was lost in his thoughts when he heard his name in the echo of a soft voice.

“Rogan.”

He jerked his head up, coming face-to-face with sharp green eyes and flushed cheeks peeking out from under a knit hat. She wore skinny black jeans over flimsy flat shoes and a thick black sweater, looking like she was trying to pull off an undercover spy disguise.

“El,” he nearly whispered, her name sticking to his tongue. Her surreal presence captured the air. He couldn’t feel his surroundings or hear the clamor of the midday hustle. He could only hear his own breath on the crisp spring air.

“Hi. Glad you came.”

“Did you think I wouldn’t?” he asked. El just shot him a playful smile.

“Come on, let’s get off the Plaza,” she commanded. Entranced by her voice, he nodded and followed as she quickly ducked into an incognito alleyway leading toward the beach. They hustled along in silence. Rogan’s heart pounded as the feeling of danger flared up in his chest.
What was he afraid of?

The vast ocean emerged from the shadows in a sprawl of crashing waves and polished rocks—just a stone’s throw from where he had first found her whimpering in the sand like an injured puppy. She paused and stared at the beach, as if this was where her plan ended. She bit her bottom lip, scanning the panorama—clearly this whole clandestine meetings thing was new territory for her. She looked to him and shrugged. Rogan mustered his courage.

“C’mon,” he motioned for her to follow him. “I know a good spot.” He ignored the blinding panic flowing through his veins and boldly took her hand. She tensed, but then relented to his pull. They hustled across the sand toward the rocks and stopped in front of a towering pile of slippery stones.

“Can you do it?” He asked, looking up at the small cliff. El looked down at her ankle nervously but then nodded. He squeezed her hand and gently tugged her up as they climbed. She was slow and awkward on the mossy rocks; her flat slippers were no match for his well-worn leather boots. Her foot caught a spot of slick moss and she stumbled, grabbing his arm, nearly toppling them both. She looked up at him in panic. Part of him wanted to laugh at her expression, and at the fact that she couldn’t climb rocks—
who couldn’t climb rocks?—
but he refrained, offering an encouraging smile instead.

“You can do it,” he reassured her. He steadied himself on a jagged edge and adjusted his hold on her hand. She took a deep breath and gave the climb all she had, heaving herself upward. They climbed over the tip of the slippery rocks and carefully down into a cove, well hidden by the tall wall of slimy stones. When they reached the sand, El plopped down and let out a relieved sigh, cheeks flushed and fiery hair tousled.  Rogan finally let himself laugh.

“I guess rock climbing isn’t in your typical daily routine then.”

She laughed, shaking her head.

“Wasn’t that evident by my previous nosedive off the cliff? A little sad isn’t it?” She worked to catch her breath.

“Only a little,” he grinned. He sat next to her and took a deep breath of salty air.

“You ought to get yourself some boots if you’re going to make a habit of it.”

El stared at her shiny black flats, intricately detailed with dainty pearls, now scuffed and slick with moss. Her cheeks ripened with embarrassment.

“Damn. I liked these shoes too.”

Awkward silence took over for a few minutes as they sat listening to the sounds of the lapping waves and serenading sea birds.

“So we’re here,” he finally said, breaking the uncomfortable quiet. She nodded.

“We are,” El looked around. “This is an amazing spot.”

“I come down here a lot when I just want to be alone.” Rogan wiped his sweaty palms on his cargo pants.

“And you shared it with me?” She tilted her head to the side, letting her long curls drape over one shoulder. Rogan didn’t answer and just looked out at the reach of the ocean. Another moment of silence engulfed them.

“So I guess I have to ask,” Rogan assembled his nerve. “Why did you want to meet up with me?” He hesitated before looking her in the eyes again. He noted the way her cheeks sat high on her face and how her mouth was shaped like a little pink bow.

“Who says it was you? Maybe I wanted to see the ocean.” She raised her brow. Rogan laughed.

“You really love the water, don’t you?”

She nodded.

“There’s something very liberating about it, don’t you think?” 

“We have that in common. One of these days I’ll open a tasting room right on the beach so I can see the water all day.”

“I’d definitely stop in,” she smiled, then sighed. “I don’t know why I wanted to come,” she continued in earnest, averting her eyes. “I just…I never meet anyone interesting. I don’t lead a very interesting life.” She mindlessly ran her hands through the grainy white sand. He found that hard to believe. Rich people always led interesting lives.

“So, sneaking out to the beach with some guy you just met is interesting?”

El shot him a sly, lidded glance.

“Scandalous isn’t it? So you live in the Valley?”

“Yeah, with my aunt and uncle. And little sister.”

“You have a sister? I always wanted a sibling.”

“Ha,” he smirked. “You won’t once you try it.”

“So where are your parents?”

He paused, mouth agape, and then shrugged.

“They’re dead,” he said frankly, uneasily running his hands through the sand. El’s eyes softened with pity.

“Oh, I’m so sorry.”

Rogan shrugged again.

“It’s okay. My da died when I was only eight. Mom… about four years ago. That was a little harder.” Rogan fiddled idly with a rock in the sand then tossed it toward the water. El reached out and placed her hand gently on his.

“That’s a terrible loss for you.”

Rogan shrugged off her concern, forcing a layer of stone to wrap around his heart, keeping in the painful memories contained in his depths.

“Yeah, thanks. I’m over it. So what about you? You have parents or just a personal assistant?”

El laughed at that, rolling her eyes.

“Oh no, I definitely have parents.”

“You don’t sound too thrilled about it.”

“Things are just a little….tense right now. We don’t really see eye-to-eye. They just want me to be something I’m not.” She sighed and looked up to the sky. “It’s hard to explain, I guess. They had this specific idea of what they wanted from me and I don’t think I’m anything close to it.”

Rogan smirked, thinking of the constant look of worry and frustration in Lorena’s eyes. He definitely wasn’t
living up to any of his aunt’s expectations. One more thing they had in common.

“Yeah, I know how hard that is. But you should be happy you still have them. Living without them is a lot harder.”

He was suddenly aware of how close she was to him. He could feel the warmth of her skin bridging the space between their arms and the sensation sucked the moisture from his throat—as if her mere presence extracted the life force right out of him. He retrieved a flask of water from his back pocket and took a swig, then offered it to her, pausing as the shimmer of her emerald eyes ensnared him.

“So will you always grow grapes then?” she asked as she accepted the flask, breaking his trance. Rogan thought about it.
Would he?
He shrugged.

“I guess so. I’ve never really thought about doing anything else. The farm—the vineyard—it was my father’s and his father’s before. It wouldn’t feel right if I didn’t keep it going. Ari—that’s my sister—she doesn’t exactly have an interest in getting dirt under her nails.”

“What about your uncle?”

“Jasper’s part owner; he’s been running things since my da died, but he’s not really an Elwood. He’s family, but not blood—married to my mom’s sister. Besides, they don’t have any kids of their own. So in the end, there’s no one it should really go to other than me.”

“It’s nice that you keep your father’s memory alive.”

He shrugged, beating back threatening emotions. Even after all this time, it was hard to talk about his father.

“So what about you? You still in school?” He switched the focus to her. She nodded.

“I’ll be finished this summer. I attend a…private school outside the city.”

“Figured as much,” Rogan laughed. “So then what? Big plans to run off and marry the Emperor of Suell?” He teased. El seemed to study him for a moment, and then her face relaxed.

“Oh, I’ll take over the family business as well,” she said with a resigned nod. “Not a lot of choice in the matter on that one.”

“And what’s that, leader of the new world?”

A coy smile crept over her and she brushed a few rogue strands of fiery hair from her cheeks. Rogan felt the space between them bubble with energy as she cocked her head and shifted her weight ever-so-slightly closer.

“Something like that.”

“Well, keep me in mind when that happens,” he said with forced breath as he tried to ignore the butterflies tap dancing in his chest.

“I just might.” She smiled and turned her attention to the waves.