Sara Larson - Defy

I reached one trembling hand up to cup his jaw. He closed his eyes and turned his face into my hand, pressing his lips against my palm. “It’s not your fault,” I whispered.

He shook his head, his eyes still squeezed shut. “If I hadn’t gotten mad at him … If I hadn’t accused him …” His voice was unsteady.

I took his face in both of my hands. “Damian, look at me.”

He did as I asked, his expression bleak, years of suppressed pain breaking free from the tight hold he’d kept it under.

“It was not your fault. Hector is evil. He probably waited until one of you broke down and got upset at him to do it, so that you would blame yourself. He was poisoning her for a reason. He didn’t decide to kill her on a whim. He is evil.”

Damian took a deep, shaky breath. “The worst part is that no matter how much I hate him, he’s still my father.”

I stroked the hair back from his face, wishing I could take away his torment, his pain and guilt.

“He declared war on Blevon within two weeks of killing her, claiming that a sorcerer from here had done it. And you know the rest.” He took a deep breath and reached up to place his hand over mine. “The reason I am telling you all of this is so that you can understand something. He’s still my father, but when the time comes for me to kill him, I won’t let myself hesitate. I will picture my mother. My brother. Everyone I’ve loved, everyone he’s taken from me. And I will have the power and courage to do what I must do.”

My stomach clenched and I let my hands drop into my lap. “But now you’ll never get that chance, because I’m not good enough. I can’t stop Iker.”

Damian leaned forward and this time he took my face in his hands. “Yes, you can. When you got past Eljin’s defense, it was because you were completely focused. Every ounce of your mind and strength and power was aimed at one thing — to get that mask off his face, right? You didn’t hit him in the ribs; you yanked off his mask with your sword.”

I thought back to that day, how I’d been so furious. In that moment, I’d hated him and his mask so much, all I could think about was tearing it off his face.

“If you can hone that kind of focus and determination again, you will succeed. And my guess is that you have a lot more hatred for the king and Iker than you do for Eljin. When you are training, you have to imagine that Eljin is Iker, and that beating him is the only way you can avenge your parents’ deaths. Your brother’s death. He’s the only person standing between us being together.” He stared earnestly into my face and I had to blink back tears.

I could see them — my parents, lying in their own blood. The life leaving Marcel’s eyes. And now Damian, the prince of Antion, was sitting before me, telling me … what? What was he telling me? “Are you saying you want to be with me?” My voice was hoarse.

The firelight made his eyes practically glow as he threaded his fingers through my hair, pulling my face closer. “So much that it hurts.” His eyes searched mine, a hint of desperation in their blue depths. “Do you understand now why I’ve been afraid to let myself care for anyone? If Hector ever found out, he would use you to break me. We will never be able to truly be together until we defeat my father.”

I knew it was impossible — even if he wanted to be with me, even if he were made king and able to do whatever he wished, he couldn’t marry his former guard. He would have to marry for political advantage. Perhaps someone from Blevon, to rebuild the former peace that had once existed between our nations.

But then Damian leaned forward so our foreheads touched. And in that moment, I didn’t care. I didn’t care that it wasn’t possible for us to actually have a future together. All I wanted was to be with him right now, in this moment. Blood pulsed hot through my body — part of me wanted nothing more than to lose myself in his touch, to kiss him until everything else faded away.

But another part was fighting, straining for release. I knew the wise decision was to ignore how badly I wanted to stay here with Damian. I had to focus instead on the sudden confidence surging through me.

I pulled back. “I want to try again.”

“Right now?”

“Yes, now.”

Damian smiled wistfully at me. “I knew you had it in you. And I know you can do this.” He didn’t move, though; his hand was still in my hair, holding me in place. “But would you mind waiting for just a few minutes, at least?”

“Why?” I asked, though I was sure I knew the answer.

“Because I don’t know when we’ll be alone again until this is all over,” he said, making my heart race. His fingers tightened against the back of my head, pulling me toward him. When his mouth met mine, a rush of heat exploded in my body, burning through my veins, my skin, my lips as I clutched Damian’s back, holding on to him — as though he were my anchor in a violent sea of uncertainty. I could feel his own desperation as he wrapped his arms around my body, holding me tightly in the circle of his embrace.

There was a light knock at the door and we sprang apart just in time for Eljin to open it, carrying a tray of food, with Rylan on his heels. Rylan gave me a hooded look, but he seemed resigned, rather than angry.

“I have the food you requested,” Eljin said with a mocking twist to his voice.

“There’s been a change of plans,” I replied.

“Oh really? How lovely,” he said.

“You’d better be prepared to lose.” I pushed past him out the door and headed back to the practice room.

ARE YOU SURE you want to try again tonight? Maybe it would be better if you rested for a bit.” Eljin mocked me as he picked up his practice sword again.

“No, I don’t need to rest,” I bit out.

He shrugged and walked over. “Then let’s begin.”

As he began to circle me, watching for my attack, I thought about what Damian had told me. I thought of him as a young boy witnessing his mother’s murder. I thought of my own parents, hewn down by an army made our enemy because of Hector’s evilness. I thought of Marcel — how he had believed in me and how he’d been another casualty of this war. I thought of Iker and how he betrayed the queen’s secret and sentenced her to death. I thought of the breeding house filled with terrified girls, who were raped over and over again. I thought of Rylan and his unending courage and of his love for his brother — I couldn’t bear it if they had to face the same fate as Marcel and I did. I thought of Damian, playing a part all these years, trying to figure out some way to stop his father and save his kingdom. I thought of him kissing me, telling me he wanted to be with me.

But if we didn’t stop Iker and the king, I would lose him. We would all lose everything.

All of it, all of my love and pain and anger surged up and filled me with fury — with purpose — with power . I felt it building in my chest, and I attacked. Eljin’s eyes widened in alarm. Left, right, left, spin, and jab. My sword moved so fast, he couldn’t follow me. He grunted, desperately trying to throw up a shield. I felt it — the moment Eljin reached for his power, when the magic surged to answer him. I refused to let him succeed. I refused to let Iker win. I refused to let us all fall to his power. With a scream of fury, I faked right and then spun around with all of my might and slammed my sword into Eljin’s ribs, knocking him flat on his back. I stood over him, chest heaving, my sword clutched in my hands.

He stared up at me, his eyes wide. Silence filled the room until the sword fell from my hand and hit the ground with a clatter.