Sara Larson - Defy

I looked over to where the final opponent stood in the ring, waiting for me. Eljin had disappeared from sight.

“I’m not sure. He didn’t say.”

I shrugged and turned away, just as the clouds burst open above us. Rain, so warm it felt like sweat, poured down on me, coating my face, drenching my short hair.

“Alex, are you sure that’s all?” Deron called after me.

I glanced back and nodded, ignoring the obvious worry on his face.

The last opponent shook my hand when I finally entered the ring, introduced himself as Mateo before taking a few steps back and lifting his sword to his face. Polite. He was good, too. Despite the driving rain and the slippery mud beneath our feet, he was quick and strong. It took me just under seven minutes to beat him, by knocking his sword from his hand and leveling mine at his chest. Instead of looking frustrated or tired, he smiled happily through the rain pouring off his brown hair, after peering at Rylan to confirm that he’d lasted the longest.

“It was an honor to fight you for this position. We’ve heard all about how good you are,” he said as he came forward to shake my hand again.

“You’re very good as well. Welcome to the guard, Mateo.” I shook his hand, but I couldn’t quite bring myself to smile back. I was still cold from my encounter with Eljin. There were too many unanswered questions piling up — secret passageways, cryptic messages from Tanoori, assassination attempts, the prince himself, and now Eljin, who I was sure blocked my hit with sorcery. What had been his goal — why did he even try if he didn’t want to win? Why reveal his ability when he must know it could mean his death?

I didn’t like unanswered questions.

THE REST OF the prince’s guard was in a boisterous mood; those not on duty later were well on their way to getting flat-out drunk. Kai had two different women sitting on his lap, one on each leg. Even Jerrod was smiling as he listened to Asher tell a story. But I could barely make myself eat. Mateo fit into the guard well, but his presence served only to remind me that he was here because Marcel was dead.

And tomorrow, Tanoori would die as well.

It was all too much. My stomach roiled, threatening to heave up what little I’d managed to choke down.

“Going seven minutes against Alex is pretty impressive.” Jude pointed at Mateo. “Well, unless you’re my brother. He’s the only one who can last longer than ten minutes.”

Marcel could, too , I thought. But I remained silent.

“I’m still trying to learn everyone’s names,” Mateo admitted. “Which one is your brother again?”

“Rylan, over there next to Alex.” Jude gestured with his fork, splatting Jerrod with mashed sweet potatoes in the process. “He’s a master swordsman.”

“Watch where you’re throwing that fork,” Jerrod muttered.

Suddenly Prince Damian strode in, with Antonio right behind him.

We all rose to our feet simultaneously. My stomach lurched into my rib cage as he strode past me without even a glance in my direction. I hadn’t seen the prince since the night before, and the memory of everything that had passed between us made my neck grow hot and my cheeks flush. Hopefully, anyone who noticed would blame it on the sweltering night.

“I hear I am to meet the newest member of my guard tonight.” He circled around the table and took his chair at the head of the table. Once he was seated, we all sat back down, except for Mateo.

“My prince, it is an honor to join your esteemed guard.” Mateo bowed his head, his right fist pressed to his left shoulder.

“Yes, yes, you can sit down.” Prince Damian gestured at him before grabbing a drumstick from the plate in front of him. “What is your name?”

“Mateo, my liege,” he said as he took his seat once more.

“Well, then, Mateo, welcome. Now let’s enjoy this feast before it grows any colder.”

And with that, everyone returned to eating. Conversations rose again, building into a cacophony of noise, hammering through my brain. My skull ached, the pain growing worse every time I looked at Prince Damian. He didn’t meet my gaze once. Had he really treated me any differently last night or had I imagined it? I forced myself to take a bite of the macaw roasted in mint leaves, but the freshly flavored meat was greasy and cold in my mouth. I could barely swallow it. I longed for the quiet and solitude of my room — until I remembered I didn’t have my own room anymore.

I didn’t know how much time passed, only that the pounding in my head was nearly unbearable, when the prince suddenly pushed his chair away from the table and stood up. We all jumped out of our seats as well, standing at attention.

“I have business to attend to, so I must reluctantly leave the celebration.”

“Ahem.” Nolen cleared his throat from the corner of the room. He’d been so silent, I’d almost forgotten he was there. “Don’t forget your father’s, ah, desires.”

Prince Damian’s face darkened, but he nodded curtly. “Of course not. We wouldn’t wish to anger my father.” He looked around the table before his gaze landed on me for the first time all night. “Alex, you will accompany me. The rest of you may enjoy the remainder of your meal. Welcome once more, Mateo. May you serve me well.” The prince inclined his head at Mateo, who bowed in return. Then Damian marched past the length of the table and swept out of the room. I hurried to follow him, my scabbard hitting my leg with each step as I tried to ignore the way my heart suddenly began to pound.

He strode down the hallway without looking back, or acknowledging any of the servants or guests he passed. I practically had to jog to keep up with his longer stride. He walked by the ballroom, then the stairs to his wing, but kept going without even pausing.

The palace was a massive conglomerate of hundreds of years of additions, constructed by kings and queens each trying to outdo the previous monarchs. The newer wings were more open, more opulent. But for some reason, Prince Damian marched right on through them all, on and on, twisting and turning through the palace until we were in the southwest wing, where the oldest monarchs lived long ago. I wasn’t very familiar with this wing. It was almost always empty, practically abandoned. As we walked through the much darker hallways, I couldn’t quite suppress a shudder.

He finally stopped before a nondescript door. “Stay here, Alex. I’ll only be a moment.”

“My lord, not to question you, but the king’s orders were to —”

“Are you working for the king or for me, Alex?” Prince Damian’s expression was cold, almost frightening in the dimness of the barren hallway.

“You, my prince, of course.”

“Then stay here.”

He reached out, opened the door, and slipped into the room before I could make out anything beyond an empty bed.

For once, it wasn’t sweltering in the palace as I stood waiting for Prince Damian. In fact, a light breeze wafted down the hallway, gently lifting the hair on the back of my neck. Despite the cooler temperature, sweat still beaded on my skin, making my hands damp. What was he doing in there? If something happened to him, I would be as good as dead. What was I supposed to say to King Hector if Prince Damian got himself killed? He wouldn’t let me come in the room with him probably would not be enough to save my skin.

Blasted prince and his blasted secrets. I began to pace, stomping harder with every turn past the door, which remained firmly shut. What little light had been shining through the one stained-glass window in the hallway had long since disappeared, leaving the wing in almost total darkness.

I wasn’t fond of the dark. In fact, according to Marcel, it was my biggest fear. Well, that and snakes. I tried to control my fear, but as I continued my vigil in front of the door, I suddenly had the feeling I was being watched. I forced myself to continue walking back and forth a couple of more times, but I slowed my pace, made less noise. I glanced left and right, straining against the shadows to try and make out who might be hiding in the gloom. A friend or foe?