Fireblood

THIRTY-THREE

Larkin steps from behind a tree. “Sneaking away?” He takes another, calculated step closer to me. “I always figured you for a coward when it came down to it.”

I shake my head, tightening my grip on my sword. “I haven’t been able to contact anyone. What happened? Where’s Devlan—” I rest my line of questioning as he continues to approach me, his sword outstretched.

He shrugs, his eyes cold and hard. “I’m not concerned about any of them.” He halts when he’s right before me. “If I’d have waited for the Rebel’s plan to take effect, it would’ve been too late.” He sighs dramatically. “I’ve been in this position before. And it never plays out in my favor.”

“You,” I breathe, realization dawning. “You killed King Hart. And you attacked the mainframe and took down the barrier.”

His eyebrows shoot up. “I see you’re not as slow as I suspected. Way to put it together so quickly, princess.” I take a step backward, and he raises the point of his sword toward me. “Stop.”

My chest rises as I take in a sharp breath. “What is your plan now, Larkin?”

His free hand fumbles at his uniform vest, and I glimpse what he’s trying to stuff inside his pocket—vials.

The antidote.

His eyes follow mine, and he quickly shoves the vials into his vest. “Step aside, princess. I don’t have time to deal with you.”

“We would’ve gotten the antidote soon enough,” I say. “You didn’t have to do this. Now everything has been compromised.”

He chokes out a hollow laugh. “No. I watched you. I knew from the start you wouldn’t kill Hart.”

“Larkin.” I say his name calmly, trying to reason with him. “I was getting through to Sebastian. There was another way we—”

“Shut up,” he snaps. “You failed to complete the mission, so I took it over. It’s done. Hart is dead, and now I have the antidote, and I’m going to get my sister back.” He glares at me. “I’m tired of waiting around. Years, princess. I’ve spent years waiting to see this moment realized. I wasn’t about to let you botch it up because your precious heart is torn over the noble Devlan and the sweet but tormented prince.” He scoffs. “Honestly, I’m sick to death of woman leaders. Now, move the fuck aside.” He coughs and places his hand over his mouth, the fit nearly causing him to convulse. When his hand comes away, it’s coated in red. Blood.

“The Virus,” I say. “You’re sick, and you don’t have much time.”

He raises his brows again. “She gets another point for being observant!” He laughs, then steps around me.

I spin toward him and raise my sword. “I’m not letting you leave here with the antidote. We all need it.” I meet his menacing glare. “We can analyze the serum and make enough for you and your sister and everyone, Larkin. You just have to trust me.”

He runs his blade along mine as he steps into a fighting stance. The shrill sound and vibration send chills along my back. “Oh, princess,” he says low, tense. “I was so hoping you’d say that. I only wish I could see poor Devlan’s face when he views what’s left of you when I’m finished.”

He’s mad. He has to be. I pull back into a defensive position, and block his blade as he slashes toward my face. He’s not performing. This isn’t a training exercise. Larkin is going for blood. I drive his blade upward, then take the clear shot at his exposed side, slicing him along the ribs.

“Bitch.” He grabs his rib cage.

Larkin’s injury should make this a more even fight, but I have to focus my attacks where they’ll count the most. Not giving him a second to recover, I feint and lunge, my blade straight as I aim for his stomach.

Favoring his right side, he taps my sword to the side. “I see Devlan trained you well,” he says. “But who do you think trained him?” He flicks his sword quickly, wounding my shoulder.

My arm spasms with pain and I cry out. Gripping my arm to hold it steady, I shakily extend my sword. The sleeve of my now-tarnished wedding dress hangs loosely, my bare shoulder dripping blood. The muscle has been spared—only a flesh wound—but the searing pain is distracting.

Larkin laughs. “It may be fun to remove your dress bit by bit.” He cocks his head. “Both boys would get a rise out of finding you in such a scandalous way.” His sword takes another swipe and I retreat, the tip just missing my other shoulder.

Lifting my chin, I counter, “Is that the only way you can get a maiden to disrobe before you, Larkin?” I advance, striking his blade and knocking it downward. “Or do you just hate strong women because you’re weak?” I raise my sword and twist sideways, blocking his attack as he cleaves the air before me. “I’ll be sure to leave you with a shred of dignity.”

His face pinches in anger, and he grinds his teeth. He moves forward, slashing at the foliage to clear his path to me, and then repeatedly beats my sword downward. I move backward, keeping out of his range, his injury limiting his reach. Angered, he shouts and lunges. I attempt to turn and cover my body, but he slashes my midsection.

I drop my sword and wrap an arm around my stomach as I fall to my knees.

He stands above me, his sword aimed at my throat. “Goodbye, Princess Zara.” He bends over, leaning in close to my ear. “I’ll give my condolences to your father.”

Anger wells in my chest, overtaking the pain in my stomach, and I stare up his blade. My fingers find the hem of my dress. Before he straightens, I grasp my dagger and lunge.

He falls to the ground, bringing me with him. I hear his ragged, gurgling breath as he gasps, and I lift myself off his body. His eyes look from me to the dagger and back. His lung is punctured, and he’s going to die a slow and painful death.

I close my eyes and twist the dagger, digging the blade deeper into his chest.

He releases one last, labored breath.

Shaking, I open my eyes and extract my dagger. Blood runs down the blade and onto my hand. I lean over and wipe it off on his vest.

Before I sheath it and pick up my sword, I look down at him. “I will save your sister.” I give him one last look of regard before I dig out the two vials and head toward the gatehouse.