Fireblood Page 6

  My molars bite down, and my jaw aches as I refrain from shouting that I’m not his. He can’t possess me like a horse or property.

  Before my anger can root any deeper, the gray-haired friar steps to the side of the long altar, and my real fear begins. This will be the first time I lay eyes on King Hart.

  Before most of Karm was constructed, King Hart built a secret chamber, a place where he’s rumored to stay hidden away from the Virus. Although we all know the Virus lurks in our veins and is not airborne, still, he’s somehow survived all these years. My father told me that his own father was one of the first to be brought into Karm. King Hart was ancient then, he said. He’s the oldest citizen of Karm, but no one knows his actual age.

  My father had his own theories as to why King Hart stays hidden—why he never leaves his secret fortress. He believed Hart had discovered a way to extend his lifespan, maybe even to defy death, yet in doing so, he bound himself to some nefarious contraption that keeps him from ever leaving his chamber’s confines.

  I don’t know the truth. I don’t know whether he’s survived all these years because he’s somehow escaped the fate awaiting the rest of us and now lives in fear of contamination, or whether he’s hooked up to some apparatus—

  Static echoes through the ceremonial hall.

  My palms slick with sweat.

  All I know for sure is he’s about to appear on the giant wall monitor before me, and my heart is about to pound right through my chest.

  “Citizens of Karm.” King Hart’s gravelly voice echoes through the hall. “I am honored to be here on this joyous day.”

  Waves of static wash over his pale face. The monitor’s blue-gray hue doesn’t disguise his pallid color, but rather emphasizes it. His skin is unnaturally smooth, with what looks like strategically-placed wrinkles around his mouth, eyes, and forehead. It shines as if it’s stretched too tight, made of something other than flesh. But it’s his unearthly gray eyes—as if illuminated from within—that unnerve me.

  I force my eyes away from the screen and look to Sebastian as a shiver crawls up my spine. He’s watching his father with a look of awe on his face, and I wonder how King Hart appears to him.

  My gaze finds Devlan, the only one in the hall besides me not watching the flickering monitor. His eyes are on me. They seem to zero in on my fear, making me feel exposed. He holds my stare a moment longer before angling his face toward the screen.

  “Today is a momentous occasion,” King Hart continues, and I look up at him. “Today my son, Prince Sebastian Hart, becomes betrothed.” His eyes seem to peer down at me. A sharp spasm of fear stabs my chest. “Zara Dane. Now Princess Zara to all of Karm, and Prince Sebastian, confirm their engagement and intention to wed.” His eyes scan the crowd. “And in taking a wife, the prince begins his ascent toward becoming King. Our hope for the prosperity of our future.”

  There’s a hesitant pause, then the hall erupts into cheers and applause. Sebastian’s hands squeeze mine, and I look at him. Pride wells in his eyes. Not the arrogance or vanity that he first showed when I met him, but a dignified pride. A twinge of regard for his station and duties rises within me, despite my reluctance to marry him.

  “Sebastian.” King Hart draws our attention back to him. His mouth creases into a thin smile. “I bless this day and your future marriage to Zara.” He bows, and we see the top of his glossy, silver hair.

  Sebastian bows his head and the screen goes black. Silence thrums the hall like a plucked string that’s been strung too tightly.

  The friar steps up to the altar, and my heart hammers. I remind myself that I’m not leaving here married. This is just the betrothal, but King Hart’s piercing gray eyes stare at me in my mind’s eye. I feel defeated, as if this is only the beginning of a lifetime imprisonment. I clamp my eyes shut.

  When I open them, Sebastian is smiling. “Relax,” he says. “This part is nearly over.”

  He thinks I’m merely nervous to be in front of the crowd. Which I am, but there’s so much more. I can’t do this. I can’t commit myself to someone I don’t love. I can’t commit my life to serving and enforcing the laws that my father was punished for breaking. Or condoning “questioning procedures.” I’m seconds away from hyperventilating when Devlan moves closer to us, holding out Sebastian’s commitment gift.

  Sebastian takes his gift as Devlan watches me. Again, it’s as if he’s urging me to continue—to go through with it. He steps back, and my vision fills with the line of crimson and black-clad knights stretching across the back of the ceremonial hall. The Force stands at attention, their eyes seeming to bore right though me. There’s no getting through that barricade.

  The little boy comes forward. He’s the same height as me in my kneeling position. I take the locket from him. Drops of water sprinkle my hair as the friar blesses us. His murmured chant barely reaches my ears. He pauses, looking out to the crowd. “Should anyone here know of a reason why these two may not be united, let them speak.”

  The tightening in my chest forces all the air from my lungs. I’m desperate to seek each pair of eyes in the hall, implore someone to commiserate with me, but I keep my gaze steady on Sebastian.

  My heart sinks as the friar continues. “You may exchange your commitment gifts and solidify your engagement.”

  My hands shake as I clip the locket to Sebastian’s vest. “With this, I will commit myself to being your wife. Body, mind, and soul.” Inside, I cringe. It’s only words. The vow will never be consummated.

  I stare at the floor as I await Sebastian’s gift. He reaches out and slides his fingers along my jawline as he tilts my face up to look at him. His golden eyes shimmer in the candlelight.

  “With this,” he says, undoing the clasp of a silver chain. “I will commit myself to being your husband. Body, mind, and soul.” He separates his hands, expanding the chain, then drapes it around my neck. His hands press against my neck as he clasps the necklace, and my skin tingles at the feel of his soft skin on mine.

  A heart-shaped silver locket rests against my breastbone. It weighs on my skin, cold and heavy. His hands linger, cupping my neck just below my jawline; his thumbs rest against my cheeks. I hold my breath as I wait for Sebastian’s lips to touch mine.

  His gaze traps mine, and a rare flash of concern registers on his face. He draws me to him as he moves forward, closer. The hand facing the crowd shields my lips as he places a kiss next to my mouth, on my cheek.

  “I can be patient,” he whispers in my ear. “Just don’t make me wait too long.”

  My clenched muscles relax, and my lips release a breath. The crowd cheers, but I barely hear them over the whooshing in my ears.

  Sebastian takes my hands and pulls me up beside him as he rises. He doesn’t seem to be too disappointed over the missed opportunity to kiss me. His face is lit with excitement. “Ready for the celebration?”

  SEVEN

  The slow, earthy music from mandolins and flutes echoes off the stone walls of the great hall. I’m seated upon a dais at the head of the room, at a table laden with every kind of dish imaginable. The smells of vanilla and roasted meat perfume the air. Roast beef, cutlets of chicken, and racks of lamb are presented on massive porcelain serving platters. Silver trays and baked rolls fill the few open areas of the tablecloth.

  The high walls are swathed with blue and silver velvet. Iron vines holding lit votives wrap the high pillars. Their small flames twinkle, blanketing the air with jasmine and spice.

  Sebastian rests his chin in his hand as he watches the room bounce and sway, the citizens dancing in celebration of his betrothal. He’s not spoken of my outburst in the arcade, and I’m reluctant to press him on the subject. I know Mr. Levine is dead. I don’t need his confirmation. No one could survive that much torture.

  And it’s my fault.

  I finger my locket, trying to push it over the top of my gown. It keeps slipping under, its chill and weight foreign against my skin. Annoyed, I give up with a huff and pick at the chicken
on my plate. The guilt over Mr. Levine’s and my father’s deaths make it impossible to eat.

  Sebastian takes a long sip of wine and peeks at me above the rim of his goblet. He sets it down. “Zara. Dance with me.” Amusement laces his voice. “I’ve never had the pleasure with you.”

  Of course not. I’ve never been to any of the court’s gatherings or celebrations. “Not now, my lord. I’m weary from the ceremony.”

  His smile widens. “Ah. You’re still angry with me for my harsh tone earlier today.” He takes my hand. “Come now. I’ll make it up to you. It’s our night, after all.”

  “This is not our night. It’s yours.” It’s true. The Court doesn’t celebrate our engagement. They bask in a drunken stupor over their prince soon becoming a king and continuing their life of extravagance. As the ceremony was open to all of Karm, the celebration is privileged to only the nobles. The ones who benefit from the hard work and mistreatment of the commoners.

  Commoners like my father, Mr. Levine, and I used to be. Stationed to work beneath others.

  Sebastian grips my hand tighter and pulls me from my chair and thoughts. “Nonsense.” He half-drags me toward the center of the room. “Don’t be intimidated, my love. I’m sure you can keep up.”

  My skin recoils from his touch as he wraps me in an embrace. Renewed anger blooms beneath my chest. “I’m sure I can match your sloppy steps, and your dull wit for that matter, as your wine-soaked brain has left you lacking in charms.”

  “I’m not drunk…yet.” He laughs, then sobers as he dips his face toward mine, leaning in close. “But I assure you—” his voice is low and husky as he begins to sway us “—if I was attempting to seduce you, you’d not resist me so easily.” His eyes bore into mine, and his sweet, winey breath skims my lips.

  I push against his chest, backing him away from me a few inches. “Manners, Sebastian.” I scan the room, looking for curious stares. “Don’t want to cause a scandal in front of your subjects.”

  He throws his head back and laughs louder. “You’re my betrothed. And extremely sexy tonight.” He pulls me closer and rocks us back and forth. “I doubt they’d fault me for wanting to be with you.”

  The air catches in my throat, trying to choke me, and I cough. He can’t be serious. From the little I know of Sebastian, I’ve found his humor insensitive and crass, but I can’t figure out if he’s joking or insinuating we should be together before we’re wed.

  That will not happen, but I suddenly feel caught, like I’m a fish stuck in a net and wriggling for freedom. Except he’s the slippery one, and I can’t grasp the truth in his words.

  I attempt to relax against him, allowing him to lead as his hands caress my lower back. I’m acutely aware of his chest pressed to mine, his hips pressed to my hips. He smells of rain and masculine cologne. My eyes shut, taking in his scent, and my head swims. Whether from the little bit of wine I had with supper or his proximity, I’m unsure. He’s dancing far too close for era customs, and I’m uncomfortable with his show.

  Turning my head to the side, I seek air not shared between the prince and me, and notice Devlan across the room. He’s leaning against the far wall and burning a hole into something, or someone, with his eyes. Shifting my head, I follow his gaze. One of the king’s Round Table knights of the Force—the one who callously took me from my home—Larsen… Laren… no, Larkin is dancing with a petite girl in a satin cream dress.

  I look back at Devlan and consider the gravity of his stare. Is he angry that Sir Larkin isn’t dressed in uniform? The girl is beautiful. Mayhap she’s someone Devlan cares for. I smile to myself, trying to envision the over-serious Devlan being romantic with anyone. It’s an amusing thought. He takes his duty as first knight too severely to become involved.

  Why do I care?

  I don’t care. I’m trying to avoid my thoughts of the betrothal and my father and being this close to Sebastian now. Imagining a scandal with the knights is a good distraction from my own situation. Soon, I’ll have to plot an escape, and that thought terrifies me, especially after witnessing the Force torturing Mr. Levine, and seeing the dreaded King Hart on the monitor during the ceremony.

  Sebastian nuzzles his head closer to mine, resting his cheek against my temple. “See,” he whispers in my ear, his breath warm on my skin. “This isn’t so bad.”

  I don’t respond. I can’t. If I open my mouth in this moment, everything will fly out. He’s forcing me to marry him, to be a queen, and sit idly by as he rules his realm with malice and fear. I want nothing to do with that, and I detest him and this era for not allowing me a say in my own future, and this shattered world for taking my father.

  I won’t rule over a kingdom where everyone you love is taken by some Virus no one understands. Where everyone pretends Karm isn’t a neat lie woven into a pretty package meant to deceive us about the horrid truth of our reality. Most days, I wonder if everyone is being fed some drug that keeps them in a lucid daze, and somehow, I’m the only one immune.

  The music switches tempo, and bodies break apart as the beat demands a fast-paced dance. I separate from Sebastian, but his hands linger on my waist.

  “Well, thank you for the dance,” I say. “But I’m too tired from today’s events to entertain you further.” I curtsy slightly, keeping my eyes on him.

  He nods. “I’m pleased with our first dance,” he says, and I arch an eyebrow. “Let me escort you back to the table.” He offers me his arm.

  I accept it, latching my fingers onto his solid arm, and suspect he’s flexing. Sebastian is built well; I’ll admit to that. He has a tight, muscular form that makes the girls of Karm swoon, but his arrogance ruins the effect. The appalling words that fall from his mouth shatter the illusion.

  “Prince Sebastian,” a high-pitched voice calls from behind us. I turn with Sebastian as he guides me to face a perfectly polished young maiden. No doubt a lady of the court, flawlessly packaged in a gleaming silver dress, as if she stepped right out of a painting.

  Sebastian tips his head forward. “Miss Cecily.” He pivots my way. “I don’t believe you’ve had the privilege of meeting my betrothed.”

  Cecily’s gleaming blue eyes sweep over me, very apparently. “Congratulations on your engagement. It’s wonderful to make your acquaintance, Princess Zara.” She curtsies low.

  “Thank you. It’s lovely to meet you, Miss Cecily.” I attempt to mimic her expert curtsy, but feel I’m not quite as lithe.

  Her lips twitch, and she covers her mouth with a gloved hand. I scrunch my eyebrows and look at Sebastian, but his face is stoic. I realize my blunder. Madity coached me not to bow or curtsy to others of a lower station now that I’m considered royalty. Heat splashes my cheeks.

  Cecily doesn’t acknowledge my ignorance for long. She quickly moves her gaze to Sebastian. “You’re not going to sit out the Branle, are you, Prince Sebastian?” She twirls a perfectly coiled blonde curl around her finger.

  Standing awkwardly by his side, I look up to Sebastian as he clears his throat. “Actually, my princess needs a respite.” His eyes glance at me. “She’s weary from today’s events.”

  I open my mouth to agree, but Cecily cuts in. “It would be an honor to dance in her stead.” She moves closer to Sebastian. “I would hate for you to miss out on your favorite dance.” She puckers her mouth into a pout.

  Oh, for heaven’s sake. “Please, Miss Cecily,” I say. “I’d appreciate you keeping the prince entertained while I rest.” I give Sebastian a curt nod, then quit their company before my supper makes an unwanted appearance on the dance floor.

  As I weave my way toward the table, I force my jaw to unclench. If dancing with Sebastian and laughing at my lack of etiquette gives this noble girl satisfaction, so be it. It only vexes me a small amount that she believes she’s… well, vexed me.

  I settle down in my chair and release a heavy breath. Lugging my gown around is tiring work, though at least Madity removed the train after the ceremony. I find myself missing her company as
I watch the nobles dance and laugh. She’s the closest thing I have to a friend here.

  Sebastian and Cecily hold hands and dance around the room, skipping and clapping and laughing with the other courtiers. I’ll admit, Sebastian is a fine dancer. Cecily equals his grace, making them stand out amid the others. They look good together, evenly matched in both beauty and elegance. Why didn’t he choose her? She obviously wouldn’t be despondent over marrying the prince of Karm.

  Sebastian cuts out of the dance early and joins me at the table. He’s quiet, and I choose to say nothing about Cecily. I’ve met many of the court ladies tonight, and all have been flirtatious toward Sebastian and standoffish with me. I’m sure this will become the norm for my relationships with them.

  I sigh, missing Hadley with a deep ache. After seeing her drawn face tonight, I realize it will never be the same. I don’t know whether she assumes I’ll ignore her because of my new station, or if she’s upset because this was her dream. She’ll never know that I’ve been removed to this place, and wouldn’t disregard her on purpose, though that doesn’t matter now. I must sever ties. I don’t want to endanger anyone when I run. She’ll honestly have no knowledge of my whereabouts.

  I push the heavy thoughts from my mind and scan the room. Devlan’s attention is still taken. I try to spot the couple on the floor, but they’re no longer dancing. The girl in the cream dress is just slipping through the arched doorway. Larkin stands at a table for a moment, then sets down his wine and follows after her. Scandalous, indeed.

  Devlan takes a step forward as if he’s going to pursue them, but halts. His eyes shoot in our direction—to me. His features are strained, his brow furrowed, but he chooses to come to us instead of chasing down the couple.

  I grab a dinner roll and tear small pieces onto my plate, giving my hands something to do. What is the story behind the gray-eyed knight and the girl in the cream dress? If I asked Devlan, would he tell me? I shake my head. I have too many worries of my own to make it my business.

  Sebastian stands to meet Devlan as he approaches. “Devlan,” he says. “All is well?”