Sara Larson - Defy

“You were attacked by a jaguar, and you didn’t think to tell me? Are you all right?”

“You knew I was a girl and you still came out to talk to me in the middle of the night without a shirt on?” I shot right back.

“You did what ?” Rylan cut in, his eyes wide.

“It’s none of your business,” the prince snapped and then stepped closer. “Alex — if that’s even your real name — would you really have wanted me to tell you I knew? It would have put you in danger. It would have changed everything.”

I stared at him, my heart flopping like a wounded animal in my chest. “Alexa,” I whispered.

“What?”

“My name is Alexa.”

“Alexa,” he repeated quietly. Hearing Damian say my real name sent a warm shiver sliding down my spine, straight into my belly. “And now that the truth is out in the open, I’ve been curious for quite some time. How did a girl come to be the best swordsman and shot in my personal guard? And what is this about a jaguar attack?”

“I believe I should go see if there is any food left from supper,” Lisbet said suddenly, standing up. “I suppose I can trust the three of you to stay in here? I don’t have to warn you that Eljin can do as much damage from across a campground as he can from five feet away, do I?”

We all looked at her silently, until Damian nodded once curtly. She curtsied to him, which was odd, considering she was one of our captors, and then left without another word.

Damian immediately turned to me. “I’d like answers to my questions now.” It wasn’t a request.

I cleared my throat nervously. “Could you at least sit down first?”

My heart skipped a beat when he didn’t move, afraid I’d pushed him too far. He was still the prince. But finally he folded his long legs and sat down beside Rylan, both of them facing me. Piercing blue eyes and warm brown ones, both intent, waiting for me.

I haltingly began trying to explain myself. “My parents were afraid of your father’s war. I used to hear them talking about it at night. My mother was worried that they wouldn’t be able to protect me in particular, since I was a girl.”

“Because they thought you might be forced into the breeding house?” Damian’s eyes darkened, and his voice sent another shiver down my spine.

“Yes.”

A muscle in his jaw tightened. “Go on.”

I told him how I’d asked to train with my brother, and how I grew to be a better fighter than he was. Better than anyone else in the village, even though I was only a girl of fourteen when our parents were killed. I told them how Marcel and I made the desperate decision to lie about our ages and to cut off my hair and pretend I was his twin brother to save me from being taken to the king’s breeding house. To save me from the fate that awaited girls there — being raped repeatedly until they got pregnant, only to have the babies taken from them and raised to populate the king’s army, as soon as the boys were old enough to hold swords, or to expand his breeding house, as soon as the girls got their monthly courses. I tried not to think about Kalen, or Horace, or the girl lying on the bed, or anything else I’d seen that horrible night as I spoke, but nausea still rose in my belly.

“When I am king, I want you to know that I will set those poor girls free and burn that building to the ground.” The cold fury in his voice made me hope he was serious — and that he became king sooner rather than later. But what hope was there of that? King Hector wasn’t old, certainly not close to dying anytime soon. Not unless something happened to him.

Shaking my head to clear the treasonous thoughts, I told Damian how no one had questioned me when Marcel and I volunteered to join the army, especially once they saw me fight, and then there had been no going back.

“So you’re actually only seventeen?” he asked. “You lied about your age as well?”

I nodded.

“A seventeen-year-old girl.” Prince Damian shook his head. “And how did you find out?” He turned to Rylan.

“The day she and Marcel joined the army, he accidentally called her Alexa in front of me. He realized that I’d overheard and later swore me to secrecy.”

“But you didn’t know that he knew?” Damian asked me.

I shook my head. “No.”

“And you’ve been pretending to be a boy ever since.”

“I’m sorry for deceiving you.” I lifted my chin and met his searching gaze. “When my parents died, we didn’t know what else to do. But I don’t regret it. As you know, I’m very good at what I do.”

“Unless faced with a sorcerer,” he commented and that shut me right up. His expression was almost calculating as he looked at me. I couldn’t imagine what he was thinking.

“I know of no ordinary human fighter who could beat a sorcerer,” Rylan supplied, belatedly adding, “Your Highness.”

“You don’t need to keep addressing me like that. We’re sitting in a tent in the middle of the jungle with a sorcerer ready to knock us flat on our backs if we look at him sideways. I think it would be safe for you to just call me Damian right now.” But as he spoke, his eyes were on mine, making my stomach tighten. “However, I must disagree with you. There are few who could beat a sorcerer, but they do exist.”

“You’re saying that I should have been able to stop Eljin — to beat him?” I asked defensively.

“As you are now? No. As you said, you’re very good, some might even say remarkable. But you wouldn’t be able to stop Eljin — as we saw the other night.”

Rylan glanced between Damian and me uncertainly.

“But you expect me to believe that it is possible to beat him, without magic?” I bit out through clenched teeth. He just had to keep reminding me of my failure. “And what if he’d attacked me with fire? You expect me to believe I could have defended myself against that?” I challenged him, daring him to tell me that my father shouldn’t have died. If he couldn’t stop a sorcerer’s fire, no one could.

Damian lifted one eyebrow, giving me a scrutinizing look. “Eljin isn’t a black sorcerer. He can’t summon fire.” He paused. “Why did you think he could?”

I glanced at Rylan, who was watching the entire exchange with his eyebrows raised, then back at the prince. “The sorcerer who killed my parents used fire. My father was the best fighter I ever knew, but he never stood a chance. The sorcerer burned him and my mother to death in a matter of seconds.” I glared at Damian. “And you expect me to believe that my father should have been able to stop him?”

“A black sorcerer killed your parents?” Damian’s eyebrows lifted in what looked like surprise. “Was he alone?”

“No,” I responded through gritted teeth. “He was with the Blevonese army. And what do you mean, a black sorcerer?” I hadn’t realized there were different types — or that not all of them could use fire as a weapon.

“A black sorcerer with the Blevonese army,” Damian repeated, ignoring my question, making me even more irritated. He wasn’t looking at me anymore; instead, he stared past me unseeingly. After a long stretch of silence, he shook his head slightly, his expression grim. “Black sorcerers are … rare. And they are the only ones who can wield fire.”

So our enemy had multiple types of sorcerers fighting against us. That was unwelcome news. “And yet, you think I should be able to beat a sorcerer in a fight?” I asked Damian, my voice tight. “Even a black sorcerer?”

“Well, obviously, it would be even more difficult against a black sorcerer. But it’s been done before.” Damian stared directly at me, his eyes piercing. “That level of skill is extremely rare to find, but it is possible. It also requires extensive and brutal training — something that isn’t offered in Antion, since my father despises sorcery so much.” A strangely derisive tone colored his words. I felt there was more to what he was saying than I understood.