Fireblood Page 2

  I drop the paper.

  My eyes meet my father’s, and my heart constricts.

  Before I can protest, my father yanks free of his captors, surprising me with his speed and strength. “No!” he shouts. “Zara, no.” The knights jerk him backward. “You cannot go. Please, Zara. Do what you must to escape—” He’s cut off by a quick blow to his head.

  Spurred into motion, I push past the gray-eyed knight and run to my father’s side. “Unhand him!” I wrestle with the tallest knight’s hands. The other knight rears his fist back, ready to land a blow on me.

  “Stop!” the gray-eyed knight orders him. “The princess must not be harmed.”

  My eyes widen. Princess. Only my mind can’t process this now. My father’s troubled eyes search my face, then the knights drag him out.

  I pursue them as they pull him through the shattered doorway of our farmhouse. “Please,” I whimper. “He’s no longer fighting.”

  They ignore my pleas. My father struggles against them, and the tall knight thrusts his fist into my father’s jaw, dropping him to the ground.

  The gray-eyed knight lays one hand on my shoulder and wraps the fingers of his other around my arm. “Your father is ill. The Virus has driven him mad.”

  “Nay.” I shake my head. “This is your doing.” I bite down on my lip, preventing my mouth from opening again. No matter my newly elevated station, that will not stop their fists from flying if I insult the King’s Round Table Knights.

  “You filthy…” the knight towering over my father says. “He bit me!” He reaches for his V-Baton next to the sword on his belt and my heart stutters to a stop.

  I jerk against the knight holding me. “Don’t—” But it’s useless. The tall knight clubs my father over the head, and his face smacks the ground. Dry dirt clouds around him as blood trickles from his forehead, bathing the earth.

  The other knight, his visor still masking his face, takes out his own V-Baton and it hums, its tip sparking to life with a white-blue current. He shoves the end of the metal wand into my father’s shoulder. My father writhes, his body convulsing.

  Then he lies still.

  Move, I pray.

  “Put him in the prison carriage,” the knight behind me orders.

  They grab my father’s arms and drag him to a carriage drawn by two black horses. I sway, my legs numb and threatening to buckle.

  The knight rights me. “M’lady,” he says, his tone dark, serious. “Pack your belongings. Castle Karm awaits.”

  THREE

  Castle Karm stretches across the horizon. Never-ending. The carriage creaks to a stop and I look up. Gleaming silver gates rise before me, their electrical charge humming. Stone guard towers, positioned on either side, make up the gatehouse, with a guard stationed in each tower. A loud snap bites my eardrums, and I flinch. The horses snort. The electrical current running through the gates has been shut down, and now they squeak open.

  As we pass through, I can just make out the blue-coned peaks of the castle. It’s the same view I’ve gazed upon for so long, only closer, and somehow more menacing. Torches and hanging lanterns guide our path, and my skin tightens with dread.

  My carriage rumbles into the inner courtyard while my father’s veers off. I peer out the open window, trying to watch it for as long as I can. A gust of wind blasts me backward. It stings my swollen, irritated eyes, and I push the heels of my hands into their sockets, clearing away fresh tears.

  The gray-eyed knight opens the carriage door and offers me his hand. “Prince Sebastian requires you to be settled in your quarters before you’re to make his acquaintance.” His tone is callous.

  Ignoring his outstretched hand, I step down from the carriage on my own. I refuse to touch the hands of the knights who beat my father. This was not the first time. They’ve paid many visits to our farm over the years, making sure to keep my father and his animal production “in line.”

  Gathering up the hem of my tunic-dress, I move away from the carriage. I’d grudgingly done as told and changed into the nicest dress I own. I’d also sneaked away while I changed to do as my father had requested and pry the floorboard up. Inside was a wooden box that contained just what he said it would: his wedding band and a second object—an outlawed dagger. After inspecting my father’s ring, missing him and my mother both, I’d reluctantly placed it back into the box. Then I’d strapped the dagger’s sheath to my leg, praying the Force wouldn’t search me.

  The dagger rests against my outer thigh now, and through my tunic I rub the pad of my finger over the R and D along the hilt. At least a part of him is still here. They may have taken him away, but his initials remind me that he’ll always be with me.

  Guiding me.

  Compared to my pristine surroundings, my finest layers of cream linen might as well be a smock.

  Sprinkling the lush grounds is every color of flower and foliage. Pink and lavender indigo spring up between mounds of snapdragon, and ivies crawl sparsely scattered pines. The scents of rosemary and thyme nearly overpower me as the hem of my dress stirs their sprigs. In the center of the grounds, clear water cascades over an intricately carved stone fountain, and iridescent hues arc above it, twinkling in the afternoon light.

  Stepping onto the stone court, I spin once, taking in row upon row of arches on freestanding columns. The immense box-like structure of the arcade surrounding me is only small compared to the colossal castle it protrudes from. I crane my neck as my eyes roam up the front of Castle Karm. Its near-white stone is spotless, nothing like the dusty, dank farmhouses of the country. Guards pace the wall walk of the second landing, and above them, midnight blue and silver tapestries drape the outer walls, matching the conical rooftops reaching into the sky.

  The gray-eyed knight escorts me through massive mahogany doors, and I’m dwarfed by elegance I’d never imagined. The stone floors echo our steps. A crystal chandelier lights the inner ward with an amber glow, giving the illusion of warmth despite the chill in the air. Velvet tapestries—blue, silver, and crimson—hang ceiling to floor.

  As we ascend a spiral staircase, my head spins from the height. I want to latch on to the stone railing to steady myself, but I’m afraid to touch anything. I’m so out of place within this element that I feel detached, as if in a dream. Four flights bring us to the top level, and my body is taxed. My emotions are drained.

  After passing five rooms, we stop at the sixth, and the door swings open.

  A middle-aged woman, her auburn hair pulled into a braided bun, ushers me inside the room. “My dear,” she says, her voice both soft and excited, “what a journey you’ve had. Sit, sit.” She beckons me to a burgundy velvet settee near a brass fire pit.

  I say nothing and sit as instructed, welcoming the heat from the flames while taking in the tall stone walls that reach toward an arched ceiling. Giant wooden beams cross the open space above, and a chandelier hangs from the center one, casting the chamber in soft light.

  “Maid Madity,” the knight says. I look up at him, having forgotten he was here. “The prince wishes the princess to retire for the evening, then to break her fast with him in the atrium come morning.”

  She bobs her head, her eyes creasing as if irritated by his presence. I like her immediately. “Yes, of course,” she says. “Go now, Sir Larkin. I have a travel-weary charge to tend to.” She shoos the knight from the doorway.

  I stare vacantly at the dormer window across from me while Maid Madity flitters about the room, hanging clothes—though not the clothes I brought—in a mahogany armoire. As she folds linens on the tall bed, I notice her gray servant’s tunic hangs a little lower on her left side, and there’s a slight limp in her walk.

  She hums as she folds. It’s as if the realm has continued on. Like the transmission never occurred. Only my world has forever changed.

  My head aches as I try to piece together all that has happened. I think of Hadley watching the transmission as Prince Sebastian announced my name. What went through her mind? Did she race
to my home afterward, only to find me and my father already gone? Will I ever be able to see her again?

  Mr. Levine’s actions are clear now. Somehow, he was aware of what was about to transpire. I don’t know how, but he had to have been. He was making sure my father would be taken care of after I was removed from his care. It would have assuaged some of my fears, but Mr. Levine’s kind and perilous effort is moot now.

  Maid Madity stuffs the now-folded linens under the bed, and the fire pops. I startle, but quickly check myself, and scoff at the intricate illusion that is our world.

  Karm is surrounded by a force field. It protects us, hiding us from Outside. The wasteland. Only here does grass and vegetation grow. Only here do we have the means to genetically fashion animals, giving life. Like my father’s farm where I helped him clone animals to sell at the market. After the nuclear fallout of the Final War, and the Virus that came shortly after, nothing remains of the old world except destruction, death, and plague.

  And the storybook world of nightmares.

  Growing up, I heard tales of beasts mutated by the fallout, so large and distorted that they devour everything in their paths. I was told of people no longer able to use their eyes, blinded by the loss of ozone, with adapted senses that sniff out their prey. Humans.

  I shiver and sink closer to the fire. They’re only stories meant to keep us complacent, I remind myself. It’s why we accept King Hart’s rule, his realm. No one dares to question for fear of being tossed into the Outside.

  My father never confirmed or denied the myths of Outside, but he did teach me of the world that once lived where the wasteland now thrives. He read me banned books at night when I was a child, sneaked them to me as I grew older, and taught me about the laws that used to govern the different sectors of the world. And how very different Karm is from that world.

  Now, I’ll never lay eyes on my father again.

  The signs of the Virus first appeared in him nine weeks ago. He was having difficulties remembering cloning procedures he’d done a thousand times before. I tried my best to take over, to cover for him, making sure to meet our quota of cows, pigs, and our recent addition of chickens. When he became bedridden last week, though, we fell behind, and truly, it was then only a matter of time before the Force came.

  Even if the prince had never announced my name, I couldn’t have hidden my father away much longer. The Virus that took millions during the Final War lurks in every citizen’s blood. It’s not a matter of if, but when the Virus will take us. Although it seems to skip children, preferring instead to take us in our prime.

  My father evaded it longer than most, although he has little time left now.

  Soon, he’ll die in the Oubliette. Alone. Forgotten. We’re never to speak of the Taken. They’re a stain, an imperfection in our otherwise perfect realm.

  I shed plump, hot tears. They burn as they trail down my cheeks.

  Maid Madity adjusts the apron along her curvy hips and attentively approaches me. “Princess Zara?” My eyes snap to her plain yet charming face. “Do you wish me to wash your feet? You must be worn from your trip.”

  I shake my head and wipe my face hastily. “Nay, thank you.”

  “How about I brush out your hair?” she tries again, a warm smile curling her lips. “You have such beautiful blonde tresses. A good brushing will bring back their luster.”

  My brow furrows. “My father has just been abducted by the most ruthless knights in all of Karm,” I snap. “I hardly think a bath and hair brushing will soothe me.” I cringe and pinch my eyes closed, immediately regretting my harsh words. It’s not her doing as to why I’m here, why my father is now—as I sit in this lavish chamber—being sent to the Oubliette. However, my mind cannot summon the spirit to placate her.

  She bows her head. “Understood, m’lady.” She leaves the room, and the door bangs closed behind her.

  Willing my body to move, I slog across the floor toward the balcony and push the glass doors open. The evening air is crisp and scented with smoke from the torches. I breathe it in.

  The setting sun stains the sky an unearthly violet. I can just make out the faint blue grid beneath the clouds. The electric lines streak the sky, and I wonder what a sunset without the force field that domes Karm would look like.

  Glancing around, I locate an Eye in the corner of the balcony, its tiny lens encased in glass.

  As my father would say, damn.

  I edge toward the railing, keeping my right side out of view of whoever is spying on the other side of the camera. The blade of the dagger presses against my thigh, and I clasp the hilt beneath my tunic, wishing I could bring it out and examine it further.

  My father’s initials are engraved on the black hilt, just above a crest of an eagle’s outspread wings and a sword. I know there’s a story behind how he came to own the weapon, but I suppose he was waiting for his last day to do so. Now, he never will.

  My father may yet live another few days in the Oubliette, but once you’re there, your presence is so completely wiped from Karm you may as well have never existed. I won’t even be given the chance to say goodbye to him at a funeral. He and all of his belongings will be incinerated.

  My last moments with my mother were nearly the same before she was taken. She had gone mad, rambling meaningless obscenities my five-year-old mind couldn’t process at the time, and then the Force hauled her away. A fiery ache lodges in my throat.

  Will my parents be together soon?

  I pray so, but I don’t believe in Heaven. God wouldn’t inflict such a disease on His world—wouldn’t turn His creation into a barren wasteland. Maybe they’ll be together in the wind. Or the clouds. Somewhere soft and bright, watching over me.

  There’s not a Heaven, but there is a Hell.

  Karm.

  Its citizens glide along every day, whether in oblivion or fear, I’m not sure. They’re as lost as the era they follow. All the while, they pretend this is paradise, forgetting the Virus that devastated the world still works in our veins. They can abide by King Hart’s rules, but I won’t allow my parents’ memory to fade while I live in this sham of a utopia.

  I will remember them and talk about them. Even if it angers my soon-to-be betrothed prince. My chest constricts with resentment. His smug and conceited air during the live transmission, his act of betrothing me without so much as an introduction first—never mind his neglect of properly asking my father for my hand—only confirms my father’s theory of the royals and this kingdom. They take what they want.

  Even if the prince forces me to marry him, I’ll never forgive him for taking away the little time I had left with my father. He’s not my king yet, and he’ll never rule me.

  I run my hands over my tunic, shaking out the hem to better conceal the leather sheath. All weapons are banned in Karm, except for the V-Batons and arming swords the Force and army of knights carry. They’re issued so the knights can enforce Karm’s order—the laws—although it’s rare for anyone to disobey.

  I recall the public hanging again. I’d slipped away from my father to explore when that thief was caught stealing bread in the market. The Force strung him up in the center of the square and transmitted it live for all citizens to witness. No judge. No jury. The Force is both. King Hart allots his authority to his superior knights—his Round Table—to punish and keep order as if they’re an extension of him.

  The more years that pass, the more King Hart’s order is enforced and followed. Too many fear the Force to go against the laws now. Even I stayed in line after the first time I watched the Force nearly beat my father to death. I kept my head down and followed along. Just like the rest.

  Until this moment.

  I watched my mother and now my father dragged off by the Force. Saw it happen to strangers and friends alike. I shouldn’t have listened to my father. I should have hidden him away as I’d planned. If I’m going to die of the Virus, I want it to be on my own terms. Not locked away in an underground dungeon, isolated and possibl
y beaten for something I have no control over.

  Panic hitches my breathing. I’m here, in the castle, right under their watchful eyes. What if I develop symptoms? The prince would cart me off to the Oubliette at once.

  My father’s frenzied attack on the Force haunts my mind. I’m to get as far away from Castle Karm as possible. These were his last words to me. This was his wish.

  I clutch the hilt of the dagger and stare down at the stone wall surrounding Court. Renewed anger and determination rise within me.

  I’m going to escape.

  FOUR

  Knock, knock.

  “Princess Zara,” Maid Madity calls through the door.

  Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I lift myself off the unturned coverlet. Damn. The maid rises early.

  I look out the balcony doors, to the blue lines bleeding across the morning sky, like veins running through Karm’s body. Then I trudge toward the large mahogany door. She raps once more, and I fling the door open and stare into her honey-brown eyes. She’s only an inch or two shorter than me, but considering my petite stature, she can’t possibly be taller than five feet.

  She’s not my ideal choice for an ally; I don’t know if she’ll report me. But she may be my only option.

  “Maid Madity,” I say softly. “You must get me out of here.”

  She laughs. My eyebrows shoot up. Is she mocking me? She shakes her head, her auburn curls bouncing loose from her braid. “You’re a dramatic one, m’lady,” she says. “But I suspect the prince will enjoy the challenge.” She sweeps past me with a white gown draped over her arms. “You have all day to settle in and prepare yourself for the betrothal. I’m sure by then you’ll see how foolish you’re being. You’ve been given a great privilege. I can name countless ladies who’d love to fulfill this duty.” She tsks. “There will be some jealous maidens at the ceremony this evening, no doubt.”