Fireblood

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?”

“Yes, Your Highness. Everyone is enjoying themselves.” His eyes dart to me, then back to Sebastian.

“Then I suggest you do the same,” Sebastian says. “There’s a room full of waiting maidens and you’re hovering over us. Go.” He flicks his wrist, waving his hand toward the dance floor. “Find one to entertain you for the night.”

Devlan bows his head. “Yes, my lord,” he says, but his eyes seek mine through his dark fringe of lashes. As if he’s waiting for my dismissal. He’s now my personal guard, but does that mean watching over me even while I’m in Sebastian’s presence?

I meet his eyes and nod lightly, assuring him that I’m all right.

He bows his head farther. “Princess Zara.” Turning on his heel, he departs. He heads toward the opposite end of the room, and I watch him go, oddly concerned if I did the right thing.

“That was unnecessary,” I say, keeping my eyes on Devlan as he maneuvers through the dancing crowd. “I don’t need a personal guard, Sebastian.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Sebastian drinks his wine, taking two long pulls. “Devlan is my best knight. I trust him above all to keep you safe.”

I cock an eyebrow and look at him. “Safe from what?”

“Zara…” He breathes my name. “Not now.” His voice is stern, and I can hear the warning. “I’ll happily discuss this with you another time and bicker till your bickering heart is content, but right now,” he takes my hand, “indulge me. Pretend you are a new, happily betrothed princess enamored with her prince.” A smile spreads across his face and he laces his fingers through mine.

For now, I give in to his wishes. It won’t do me any good to start a fight here, demanding to know things. Soon I’ll need him to believe that I am happy, or at least content, if I’m going to escape. If he continues to question me, placing guards to monitor my every move, I’ll never get away.

I grit my teeth and force a smile. It seems to satisfy him, and he swallows down the last of his wine.

“Here.” I push his empty glass aside. “Let me get you another.” He’s stunned silent by my offer, but I leave before he can question me. Maybe if he gets drunk enough he’ll pass out. Then I can return to my chamber and be rid of this night.

As I’m taking a newly filled goblet from the wine table, I spy Devlan talking into his communicator, his eyes hard and intense.

I glance around at all the other knights laughing and dancing, then back to Devlan’s wary expression. His eyes snap to me, and the worry within their blue depths stirs renewed fear in my chest.

I suspect I’m missing something tonight, and it’s much bigger than the prince’s betrothal.