Reluctant Prince (23 page)

“Elijah will see to protecting the Princesses.”

“I will?” Elijah seemed as surprised as Ryleigh.

“Yes. Do you know what to do?” He spared Elijah a glance.

“Of course, Your Majesty.”

“See to it then. I will be leading the Death Dealer team.”

Everyone in the chamber gasped.

Except Kai. His eyes hardened. The already tight line of his mouth firmed.

King Maynard moved toward him. He stopped and stood toe to toe with the warrior, placed the tip of his sword against Kai’s chest. “I will never bow to ultimatums, Kai, no matter who issues them. In case you’ve forgotten, I was mentored under the original Death Dealer team, I outrank you, and I am now in command of this unit. If you wish to accompany us, go prepare.”

Kai clenched his teeth, flexed his hand over his sword handle. He held the king’s stare, lifted his sword the slightest bit. Then he turned and stormed from the room.

“Darius, have the women and children been evacuated?”

“We’re in the process of evacuating now, sir.”

“Thank you. Prepare your units, please.”

“Yes, sir.” Darius bowed and left.

“Elijah.” The king spoke in hushed, urgent tones. “Move them through the family tunnel. Quite honestly, I just don’t know who to trust anymore, so don’t trust anyone.”

“Sir.” Elijah bowed his head.

“I’m not kidding, Elijah. You trust no one. You take Ryleigh, Mia, Kiara and Sadie. Send Dakota to join his unit.”

“But, sir.” He faltered. “What of the city, sir? How can I leave it?”

“The city will have been evacuated. I will not have a repeat of the last time. If they burn it to the ground, so be it. We’ll re-build. The Death Dealers ride the fastest dragons in any realm, and I’m going to push hard to reach Maris as quickly as possible. I don’t want to lose that village.” He shook his head. “If we don’t make it, I’ll have to live with that, but we
will
stop them before they reach Coran. I refuse to lose any more of my people.” He nodded to Ryleigh and strode from the room.

Jackson approached Elijah. “Go ahead, Elijah. Ready the others. Ryleigh and I will meet you in my chambers.”

“Very well, sir.” He took a few steps but stopped and faced Jackson. “I’ll take good care of them, My Prince.” He bowed his head and left.

“Listen to me, Ryleigh. It will take a little while before the preparations are complete, but we don’t have much time.”

She ran to keep up as he strode from the room and started down the corridor.

“You stay with Elijah. He’s the one person I know I can trust.”

“How can you be sure?”

“I am sure, but I want you to take this.” He stopped and pulled a small, sheathed dagger from his boot. He held it out to her and smiled. “Just in case.”

She only hesitated a second before taking it and shoving it into her boot.

“Elijah will take you out through the royal family tunnels. Only Elijah and our immediate family know about them. No one should expect that, and it should be safe.”

“Does Kai know about them?”

“No. I don’t know what’s going on with Kai, but my father obviously doesn’t trust him anymore.” He lowered his voice even more. “Being that I was just acquitted of all charges, everyone would have known I’d be ordained soon. The timing of this invasion is just too coincidental. It had to have been intentional. Nothing else makes sense.”

They started up the stairs toward Jackson’s chamber. “You think someone’s trying to stop you from becoming a Death Dealer?”

“That, or someone’s trying to stop me from becoming the heir to the throne.”

When they reached the door, Jackson grabbed her and pulled her to him. His lips crashed down on hers. This kiss was not gentle. It was filled with all of the emotions that must be hammering at him. Rough. Passionate. He pulled away too soon.

“Jackson.”

“I have to go, Ryleigh. If there were any other way I wouldn’t leave.”

“Can’t we just go home?”

“No. You cannot return to your realm. We have no way to know what might lie in wait there.”

“What if I go somewhere random? They’d never find us.”

He was already shaking his head. “You stay with Elijah. Nothing’s completely safe, but this is the safest we can make it. Promise me you’ll listen to Elijah.”

“I will.” The urge to cling to him, to hold him there, was almost irresistible. “Promise me you’ll come back to me.” She didn’t cry, didn’t beg him to stay, though she desperately wanted to.

He held her gaze with his. “I love you, Ryleigh.” He pressed his lips gently to hers. Once. Quick. Then he shoved the door open, nodded to Elijah, and ran down the stairs.

* * * *

Jackson ran down the stairs. Had he really told Ryleigh he loved her? How had that happened? He’d opened his mouth, and the words had just jumped out.
Crap.
Leaving her was killing him. When he got his hands on Kai…

Kai. The warrior seemed to be on a mission to hurt him, to destroy Ryleigh. What had happened to Kai? Jackson’s mentor. The man had once been like a father to him.

His father. What was his father doing going into battle? The King was more than experienced as a soldier, a Death Dealer. Something in Jackson’s gut nagged him. He’d have to keep a close eye on the old man.

The random thoughts battered at him, stealing his concentration from the battle he was about to enter. He stopped. Squeezed his head between his hands. He had to regain his focus. No way could he fight this way. Dealing with all of these emotions was too new.

He turned around and ran back up the stairs, heading for the uppermost levels of the castle. When he reached the top of the stairs, he pushed through the trap door and ascended onto the flat surface of the tower roof. He took a deep breath. The fresh air filled his straining lungs. The familiar scent of home poured through him. He worked to slow his breathing, slow his heart rate.

Ryleigh always managed to kick it up to an uncomfortable pace. Ryleigh again. Couldn’t he rid his mind of her image for even a few minutes?

Jackson bent over, stretched his back. He propped his foot up on the low wall surrounding the tower, stretched first one leg then the other. He vaulted up onto the parapet. Stood. Surveyed the Kingdom his mother had loved so much. He inhaled deeply, the cool air beginning to calm him. He closed his eyes, focused on balancing himself.

He opened his eyes and walked along the battlement, slowly at first, trying to gain his balance, his focus. His powers had been fully restored during the Ordination Ceremony. He was stronger than any human, faster, more agile. He faltered, lost his footing, looked down.

But he couldn’t fly.

He blew out a breath, steadied himself, focused solely on the ball of energy within him. Stabilized his core. Tightened his muscles. Loosened them. He started to run. Increased his speed. Worked to empty his mind. Allowed his instincts to guide him. Power exploded inside of him.

He ran across the crenellations, launching himself easily over the gaps. He concentrated on the energy flowing through him, on allowing the
parkour
style run to free his mind. He ran around the entire tower once, willing his reflexes to take over.

The second time around, when he reached the nearest turret, he launched himself toward it. Landed just his toes, for a split second, on a protruding block. Used his hand against the wall to push off and back toward the tower he’d just jumped from. Then he pushed off just as quickly toward a flat roof. He landed smoothly, never slowing, and continued across the rooftop.

Leaping, vaulting, hurdling over anything and everything that threatened to slow him down. Two short walls stood in his way. He dove toward them. His hands hit the first wall, propelled his prone body toward the second wall. When his hands landed on the parallel wall, he pulled his knees to his chest, shot his feet between his arms, landed solidly, and kept going.

A solid wall blocked his path. He leapt, landing one foot against the wall. Shoved hard against it. Twisted. Grabbed a ledge. Used his momentum to swing his legs up and onto the ledge. He ran. Turned the corner. A strong gust of wind slammed into his chest. He leaned too far forward, overcompensated.

He tumbled from the roof.

The bottom of his stomach dropped out. He didn’t think, simply trusted his instincts. He tucked his body into a ball, flipped, twisted extended his legs, grabbed a thick chain, swung high into the air, rotated and landed on a low turret. He never slowed. His body felt flexible, nimble. He leaped and jumped, primal instincts taking over. He moved with fluid, catlike grace. Used his mind and body to overcome every obstacle he encountered.

Discipline. Freedom. He moved forward. Ignored the fear. Wasted no energy. Wasted no movement. Focused. Never taking the path of least resistance. Flying free with the thrill of the challenge. He’d never taken this route before, had needed something different. Something dangerous, requiring his full attention, complete concentration. He had to prepare his mind for battle, remind himself how to function with the cold logic of a machine, to rely solely on his reflexes. Let instinct guide him.

Jackson jumped from crenellation to crenellation, flipped, turned in the air, twisted, jumped down the outside of two closely spaced spires, ran along the top of a wall. He spotted the stable in the distance and worked to move toward it in the straightest line possible.

The rumble of the drawbridge being lowered reached his ears. He ran straight toward it. He dove from the turret, grabbed onto the chain lowering the bridge, swung around in a full circle then launched himself through the air. He landed, one foot in front of the other, crouched on the ground, tumbled, and was up.

By the time he entered the open door of the stable, he was in complete control, his calm center restored. He looked around the enormous, mostly open space. Where was everyone?

Darkness crept over him.

The screech of the door’s hinges sent a shiver up his spine. He adjusted his stance, shifted in time to see the heavy door fall shut.

“Hello, Jackson.” Kai stepped from the shadows. “Nice of you to join us.”

“Where is everyone?”

“Getting ready.” His mentor cocked his head, studied him.

Jackson held his ground. He would not back down from a confrontation with Kai. Actually, he welcomed it. Better to work out their differences before any lives were lost because they couldn’t trust each other.

“You know, Jackson, I’ve never gone easy on you because you were the king’s son.”

Jackson waited, unsure where Kai was going with this, not certain he could trust him.

“If anything, I was harder on you, expected more from you. Not only because your father is king, not only because you would one day be expected to take his place, though both of those reasons factored into the choices I’ve made.” Kai paused, held Jackson’s stare. “The biggest reason I always pushed you harder than anyone else, was that you were always capable of more than anyone else.” He inclined his head toward Jackson without ever breaking eye contact. Then he turned and walked away, leaving Jackson to wonder what had just happened.

Confusion warred with impatience. He struggled to regain the focus the freestyle run had left him with. No use. He sighed and went to prepare. Maybe having feelings wasn’t as amazing as he’d first thought. At the moment, it actually kind of sucked.

Jackson inhaled deeply. The rich smell of dirt and dragons filling him with anticipation. He walked through the stable, his footsteps silent on the hard packed dirt floor. When he reached his preparation area, he grabbed the lit lantern from the wall beside him, entered the small space enclosed on three sides by high wooden partitions, and let the heavy curtain fall shut behind him.

He hung the lantern behind the long wooden table that ran the length of the back wall and studied the armor and weapons spread across it. All carefully aligned, meticulously cleaned and repaired. Always ready to don hastily if the need arose. He lifted his shirt over his head and tossed it onto the table.

Pride filled him. The elaborate symbol of the Death Dealer formed a sleeve around his upper arm and shoulder. Two swords crossed each other, making up the exact center of the tattoo. The mark of a warrior. Bisecting the two swords was a slash of deep red. The mark of the future King.

The red slash crossing the mark made his heart stutter, irrefutable proof that he would one day rule the Kingdom of Cymmera. And yet…

He ran his hand across the smooth, black breastplate laid out on the table. The armor of a novice. He would not ride into battle with the mark of a Death Dealer displayed on his armor, not this time.

Dakota pulled the curtain aside and started into Jackson’s prep area. “Hey, I’ve been loo…what the…?” He stopped, eyes wide, mouth agape and stared at the mark on Jackson’s arm.

“Shh. Get in here.” Jackson dragged his friend in and pulled the curtain closed.

“I don’t understand. Why do you bear the mark of the Death Dealer?” Dakota moved close enough to study the intricate tattoo. He rubbed his fingers over it and gasped. “What’s going on? Is that the mark of the king?” The volume of Dakota’s whisper increased in direct proportion to his agitation.

“Dakota, please, you must not say anything. It’s extremely important that this be kept quiet.” Jackson tried not to panic. Dakota was his best friend. They’d shared many secrets throughout their existence. Of course he wouldn’t say anything.

“But why? I don’t understand. This is cause for celebration.” The younger boy’s brow creased.

“Look, Dakota. We don’t have time for this now. I need you to trust me. Please.”

“Don’t worry about it. You know I won’t say anything. But you’re a Death Dealer.
And
the future King.” Awe filled Dakota’s eyes.

A rush of pride surged through Jackson. “I know.” A quick grin spread across his face. Joy filled him. “Awesome, right?”

Dakota simply nodded and looked at Jackson with something akin to hero worship.

“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be preparing to leave with the guard?”

“Kai said with King Maynard leading this battle, they needed one more warrior.” Dakota beamed. “He asked for me.”