Sara Larson - Defy

Damian just looked at me, his expression unreadable. Then he turned to face Eljin, who had stood watching my humiliating tantrum with his arms crossed and his eyes narrowed. “I think we should call it a night and let her get some extra rest,” Damian said.

“We only have one week left until we must leave to make our rendezvous point, and as she’s pointed out, she has yet to be successful again,” Eljin argued.

I flinched at the honesty of his words. Even though I’d said the same about myself, it was different hearing it from someone else.

“All the more reason to let her rest and rebuild her strength. Maybe we’re pushing her too hard.” Damian walked toward me and brushed the sweaty hair back from my face, cupping my cheek in his hand. I was too upset and tired to care that Rylan was watching. I looked up into Damian’s beautiful eyes and nearly started crying again.

“I’m so sorry,” I whispered.

“Don’t be sorry.” He leaned down and kissed my forehead softly. “Let’s go back to our room so you can rest. I’ll have Eljin get you something to eat and you can just forget about all of this for the night. How does that sound?”

It sounded like a weak attempt to delay the inevitable. We didn’t have time for me to need to rest, but in that moment, I didn’t care. I was not picking up that sword again tonight. “All right,” I said.

“I really don’t think —” Eljin began, but Damian cut him off.

“Kindly escort us to our room, and then find her something good to eat,” he said in a tone that made it very clear he wasn’t making a request. It was one of those moments when I was reminded that he really was a prince — that, someday, if a miracle happened and we succeeded, he would be king.

“I’d like to stay here,” Rylan said suddenly, not meeting my gaze. “I’d like to train some more.”

“And if someone sees me taking those two back but not you?” Eljin said, sounding very irritated.

“We’ve only seen two people in the last week,” Damian pointed out.

I wished Rylan would look at me, but he continued to stare at Eljin, waiting for an answer. I was sure he was upset about Damian taking control, and probably for kissing my forehead, too, and it made my stomach twist into a guilty knot. I hadn’t had a chance to talk to Rylan since Damian had apologized to me. He probably thought I was being a fool, letting the prince have his way with me.

“Fine,” Eljin finally said. “But after I bring the food, you have to go back, too.”

“That’s fine,” Rylan agreed, and walked away to the wall where a bunch of scythes was hanging.

I watched him for a moment, a dull ache in my chest, but then Damian took my hand.

“Come on. Let’s go so you can rest.”

I followed him to the door, where he let go of my hand, so that if anyone was there, they wouldn’t see. I glanced back at Rylan one last time, but his back was still turned to us. And then Eljin shut the door, sealing him inside, alone.

THERE WAS A fire burning in the small hearth when Damian and I entered our room, sending light and shadows dancing across the walls and our empty cots, chasing away the chill. Eljin shut the door behind us with an audible huff of irritation.

I shuffled across the floor and sat down heavily on my cot. Damian took a seat across from me without a word.

“What, no sermon, no lecture? No words of inspiration?” I asked, my voice sarcastic.

“No,” he said.

The firelight played across his face as he reached down into the pocket of his pants and pulled out a trinket of some sort. It looked like the one I’d seen him holding in his room all those weeks ago. He stared down at it, and I noticed a muscle in his jaw tighten.

“What is it?” I finally asked.

He glanced at me and held it up. It was small and oval shaped. “It’s a locket.”

That wasn’t what I was expecting.

Using his thumbnail, Damian flicked it open and gazed down at what was inside. Grief crossed his face, and he closed his eyes briefly. Then he stood and came to sit next to me. He handed me the locket, and I looked down at a portrait of a beautiful woman with flawless, olive-toned skin; thick, dark hair; and vibrant, warm brown eyes. She had Damian’s lips — or rather, he had hers.

“This is your mother,” I said quietly.

“Yes.”

We were silent as I stared at her portrait. “She was beautiful,” I said, handing it back to him.

Damian nodded and ran his finger across the image tenderly. “It was an arranged marriage — to my father. My grandfather was the king of Dansii. He’d always had his eye on Antion, particularly our diamond and gold mines. When Hector and my uncle, Armando, were old enough to lead the troops, my grandfather sent them to war at the head of his massive army. Just one week after they succeeded in conquering the Antionese army, my grandfather died. Armando was crowned king of Dansii, and my father took possession of Antion.”

I listened intently, watching Damian’s face as he spoke, wondering why he was telling me this.

“At the coronation ceremony, King Osgand offered to arrange a marriage with his niece, in an effort to keep the alliance that had always existed between the two nations. He feared Dansii’s growing power and reach. My father was smitten the moment he saw my mother, and he agreed to the marriage and to continue the alliance.

“The first few years of their marriage were uneventful, from what I’ve been told. She gave him two sons, and he kept his promise to maintain peace with Blevon. But then Dansii was attacked by an unknown army, led by multiple sorcerers. King Armando was nearly killed, and the Dansiian army barely managed to force the army into retreat, and only by sheer number and size — not by skill.

“Afraid for his life and for his brother’s, Armando hired two black sorcerers — one for him and one for Hector. Iker came to live at the palace. When my mother walked into the room to meet him, he sensed what she was right away, and revealed her secret — she was a sorceress.”

I gasped. “Your mother ?”

Damian nodded, still staring down at the locket. “She used to show Victor and me what she could do. We thought it was amazing, but she told us it was a secret game, that we couldn’t tell anyone. We adored our mother, and we’d kept her secret. But Iker sensed her ability the moment she walked into the room and he told my father. Hector was furious — accused her of being a spy, a plant, waiting for the time to turn on him and kill him so she could hand Antion to her uncle. I remember the fight, because Victor and I had been playing in the room next door and we could hear him shouting. She tried to warn him about Iker, to explain that he wasn’t an ordinary sorcerer, but my father wouldn’t listen.

“He locked her in her room, and only let us see her every few days. And Iker was always with us when we visited her, making sure she couldn’t say or do anything he didn’t approve of.” Damian paused, his voice thick with emotion.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to keep going,” I said, terrified to hear what came next. I didn’t want to make him relive it.

“I’ve never told anyone before. Not this.” Damian finally looked up from the locket. “I got mad at my father. I yelled at him for hurting Mother, for making her stop using her magic. That night, he took Victor and me to her room. He sat us down in front of her and said he was going to teach us what happened if we ever betrayed him. He told us sorcery was evil and that he wouldn’t allow it in Antion. And then he killed her.” Damian shuddered at the memory, which I was helpless to erase. “He’d been poisoning her for weeks with bloodroot, so she couldn’t stop him. I remember her eyes widening … the way she cried out when he lifted his sword. She begged him … begged him not to …” His voice broke, and he clenched his mouth shut.