by Trisha Wolfe
“I see,” I say.
“I apologize.” He shakes his head. “This is inappropriate. I’m afraid you’ve caught me in a strange frame of mind tonight.”
His mother must have been taken by the virus. Astronomy is an unsafe topic, but no one speaks of people—even family—once their gone. It’s forbidden. We simply go on like they never existed. Xander’s odd behavior confuses me, and I’m again questioning why he’s been marked by the Rebels. I shouldn’t waste another second, but my curiosity is piqued.
I clear my throat. “You’ve said nothing to offend me.” I smile up at him. “My mother was a very spirited person, also. She taught me a few things about the stars,” I say, stressing the fact she’s no longer here, wanting to gauge his reaction.
At first he’s cautious, his eyes wide, studying my face. Then they pinch at the corners as he eases back into the conversation. “I’m curious, Miss Fallon. I’ve never met another to know much about them.” He points toward the sky. “Please, do your best to impress me with your knowledge.”
My stomach flutters, and I can’t stop the smile from overtaking my face. “Is this a challenge or are you mocking me?”
His smile reaches his smoldering eyes and he laughs. “I would never mock a lady. I’m offended you believe me so crude.”
“You do it again,” I say, batting his arm. “I shall show you up then.” I look at the sky, seeking a constellation I know. “There.” I point. “That’s the Little Dipper.”
He waves his hand, pushing air through his lips. “That’s too easy.”
“Oh?” I say. “Then please, Sir Xander, dazzle me with your infinite wisdom.”
“All right.” His nods his head once, determined. “To think, a knight having to impress a maiden with his mind instead of masculine skill.”
A laugh escapes my lips. “Well, I could always ask you to show off your skill by attacking that tree.” I nod toward the Weeping Willow near the lake.
“Why? Has it offended you?” He makes like he’s going to draw his sword.
“Xander,” I say his name through a laugh. Our eyes meet and hold. He releases his grip on the hilt. I’ve said his name without addressing him properly, and I’m afraid I’ve given myself away.
“It’s very affecting,” he says, “hearing my name from your lips.” His eyes flick down my face, landing on my mouth. I’m forced to look away.
“Now,” he says, turning his attention back to the sky. “I was about to school you on the constellations.”
I release a relieved breath, but mentally curse myself, anyway. What am I doing? I’m wasting time. He’s distracted now, and I need to use this moment to my advantage. My training kicks in.
“You were,” I say, pretending to smooth my hair. I pull the vial of Hemlock from my bun. “How long have you been a knight?” I add to keep his thoughts off my actions. I palm the vial, then rest my hand against my back.
He sighs. “Not long.” He keeps his eyes trained on the sky, and I uncork the poison. “I’m younger than most, nineteen”—he eyes me quickly—“only officially a knight this past week. But I’m as experienced as the rest.”
“How so?” Feeling for the rim of his goblet, I dump the liquid. “What I mean is, what experience is needed? What training? There’s no threat.”
He snaps his face toward me. “Exactly.” His eyes are fierce, like I’ve stumbled onto a topic he feels passionately about. “They’re so rigorous. I spent weeks learning to fence, and hand to hand combat, and how to—” He laughs, shaking his head. “I apologize for getting carried away. A lady is not interested in such matters. It’s just . . . why are we taught these things if we’re never to use them? Though, I am grateful for the knowledge.”
I feel my eyebrows furrow. How can he be one of the king’s top knights and know nothing about the Rebels—the threat? Though the Force is used as intimidation to keep citizens in line, making sure they’re following era guidelines, their main duty is seeking us out and annihilating any chance of a rebellion.
If he’s only been in the Force a week, how did he achieve a high rank? What threat is he to us?
“You’re not boring me,” I say, batting my lashes. “I’m very interested in learning these things.” I cringe. If he has any sense at all, he’ll soon pick up on my probing. I press closer to him and lace my arm through his for good measure.
He gives his head a small shake. “A maiden interested in knighting? Now this impresses me.” He pushes off the glass and begins to lead me away. “I believe I can better point out the constellation I’m looking for from outside the atrium.” His eyes search mine, dark and inviting.
“Walk with me?”
“I—” I glance back at the goblet. Damn. “I would like that,” I finish. “But you’re leaving your wine.” Smooth, Fallon.
“It will be here when we return.”
Unless an innocent person drinks it by mistake, I think. “Let me fetch it. It’s ingrained in me not to leave things lying about. You know us women.” I turn my back to him, rolling my eyes. If he doesn’t figure this out now, after a lame line like that, maybe I have the wrong guy.
I quickly head toward the bench, but in my haste, I trip over a potted plant as I’m reaching for the goblet. A loud clink echoes, then the goblet shatters. The wine and poison flow out, the stone floor soaking it up. Shit.
“One of the maids will tend to it,” he says, coming up beside me. “A maiden as refined as yourself shouldn’t bother with such tasks.”
I nod. “Yes, I forget we’re at a celebration.” I give a forced laugh. “I’m sure the castle will be filled with all kinds of tasks tomorrow.” Like discovering the body of a knight in the forest. I shiver. Now I’m left with no alternative.
I link my arm through his. “Let’s go.” I gaze into his deep eyes, darker than the night sky. “I’d love to hear more about the stars and you.”
As we approach the atrium door, he pauses, reaching into his uniform. Then he pulls out a key ring and inserts a large, rusted key into the lock on the side of the large glass door. With a click, the door slides open, and we walk into the darkening night.
Chapter 2
The full moon shines down on the tall pines, illuminating the court woods in a blue-green hue. The pathway is narrow, and snapping twigs under our feet the only sound other than the haunting melody the crickets sing around us.
Most of my life has been in these woods. I spent hours hunting in the outskirts of Karm, but was never afraid. One of the only girls who’d go out alone, I developed a reputation for being fearless. Hunting wild animals in Karm is outlawed, just as fighting, weapons, and anything considered of violent nature. But I welcomed the rush of adrenalin. The feel of freedom the forest brings. It’s as far away from Karm as I can go without actually leaving.
Now . . . fear wraps its wary arms around me. I’ve never hunted a human. And though I was chosen for this mission because my mentor deemed me ready, a knot of resignation slams into my gut.
I’m an assassin.
I remind myself this is my calling—what I chose when I swore allegiance to the Rebels instead of King Hart. What I do tonight is for the good of Karm. Xander needs to be eliminated because Micha wouldn’t order it if there wasn’t a good reason. He’s my enemy. He may seem innocent, but I’m sure behind those kind eyes lie dark secrets.
Xander holds aside a low branch as I walk past. “Thank you, Sir Xander,” I say.
“Please, just Xander.” He releases the branch. “I’m addressed as such by my friends.”
“Are we friends, now?” I look over my shoulder and smile coyly.
He nods once. “I’d like us to be.”
“I think I’d like that, also,” I say.
We’re far enough away that if there’s a struggle, no one will hear. I stop next to a wide pine and press my back to its rough bark. Xander moves toward me, then hesitates. I’m sure he’s never met a girl this forward. And that’s my plan. Unnerve him so he doesn’t see the bl
ade coming for his throat.
I clamp my eyes shut, trying to imagine him as a deer. There will be no going back to the camp if I don’t pull this off. For our own protection, Micha is ruthless. Complete your mission. No exceptions. If I don’t, I’ll be dead by morning. Either by Xander’s hand or the Rebels’ as Micha will order my death. Though, I can’t help but feel I might be spared. Even though Micha’s the rebel leader, I’ve had special treatment—like a child. But I don’t want to chance it.
I look up at the sky through the thick branches. “I don’t think you brought me here to star gaze,” I say.
He glances at the sky, then back to me. “I admit, I forgot my intensions.” He rocks on the heels of his feet. “I’m enjoying your company so much the stars are of little interest.”
“Then why won’t you come closer?” I ask him. “Are you shy, Xander?”
A brilliant smile breaks across his face. “I’m not shy,” he says matter-of-factly. “But you’re not something I’m not accustomed to.” He cocks his head, studying me. “I find myself bewitched by you.”
I open my mouth to respond, then close it. Heat creeps up the back of my neck. I shouldn’t be blushing, but in the camp, I’m just another Rebel. I hide my eyes, glancing down at my dress. Of course. It’s not me he’s bewitched by, but the idea of a refined, flirtatious girl, wearing a beautiful dress. I shake my head, then look at him.
“I’m sure a man of your station has the girls falling all over themselves.” I wedge my hands between me and the tree, gripping the bark. Then I arch my back, accentuating my curves.
He takes a step toward me. “There have been a couple,” he says, taking another step closer. “But none like you.”
He’s playing a game. The same way I am. But he’s in pursuit of something very different than me tonight. These lines may work on the simple girls of Karm, but not me. Satisfaction washes over me. I’ll look him right in the eyes at the last moment, showing him he didn’t fool me.
Then I wonder if I can use this to gain some information. I want to know why my mentor’s marked him—what he’s done so vile against the Rebels. Has he killed someone I know? Banished one of us to the Outside? But he seems so clueless. Although, so do I right now, and I know plenty.
“You say that to us all, I’m sure,” I say. Then before he can try to defend himself, I continue, “But I’m flattered. It’s not every day one of the king’s top knights gives me such a compliment.”
His eyebrows press together. “Why do you assume I rank so high?”
Dammit. I’m floundering trying to get information from him. I should end this now. “Why wouldn’t you?” I smile shyly, forcing a blush. “You obviously think for yourself. I can’t imagine too many others do the same.”
He chuckles. “No. They don’t.” He closes the gap between us, stopping just inches away from me. “But I’m just another knight, no high rank. Although, I’ll gladly take your praise over their acknowledgment any time.”
No high rank? I open my mouth, then snap it shut. I don’t know how to press for more information. Why does Micha want him dead?
His hand brushes a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “Do you . . .” He trails off, releasing an audible breath.
His hand lingers near my face, a current pulsing between our skin. He smells like earth and fire, and some masculine soap. I breathe him in, then push the breath out, gaining control of my senses.
“What?” I ask. “Do I what?”
“Do you ever think about going out there?” He jerks his head, indicating behind him. “Past the barrier.” He shakes his head, his dark hair falling into his eyes. “That’s a stupid question. I don’t know where my mind is.”
“No,” I say, dipping my face and finding his eyes. “It’s not. I wonder all the time . . . what’s out there.” I lower my voice at the end.
His lips tug into a grin. “Really?”
I nod. “I do. And what if things have changed—”
“Like if the earth has healed itself?” he interrupts.
“Exactly.” I can’t help but smile. “And we’ll never know because we’ll be stuffed away behind the barrier forever. Or, what if there’re others out there, and they have a cu . . .” I let my words fade.
“A cure,” he finishes. His eyes bore into mine, and I’m lost. He doesn’t talk like a knight. He talks like a Rebel.
“Yes,” I finally say.
“I think we might be the only two brave enough to admit these things.” A fleeting glimmer of panic flashes in his eyes. He’s part of the Force. He’s not supposed to think like this, and he’s especially not supposed to voice it.
But what if it’s a trick? What if he knows I was sent to kill him and he’s only playing with me? This is my first hit. And it’s possible he’s more cunning than I’ve given him credit for. Maybe I’m not prepared to go up against him. I bow my head, confused.
“I’ve said something wrong,” he says, dropping his hand from my face.
I look up into his eyes. There’s sadness behind them, and his expression is worried. I squeeze my eyes shut. This has to end now. He has to end. For whatever reason I was sent, I don’t care anymore. I know my place, and I know his.
I open my eyes. “You’ve said nothing wrong,” I tell him. Then I watch his soft lips spread into an easy smile. With the hand still pressed against the tree, I slowly lift the back of my dress. His face inches toward mine as I grasp my dagger.
His lips just brush against mine before my dagger’s at his throat.
His eyes widen, and I press the blade into his skin, forcing him to back away. “I’m sorry,” I say.
“But this is my job.”
As I move away from the tree, my legs are kicked out from underneath me and I hit the ground. Bastard!
I roll to the side, barely escaping his hold as he lunges for me. I claw the earth, then pitch dirt into his face as I scramble backward. While he’s wiping his face I get to my feet.
“I knew you were playing me,” I say.
Xander rights himself and bounds to his feet. “What are you talking about? You tried to slit my throat!”
I nod, adrenalin pulsing in my veins. “And you were ready for it. You knew the whole time!”
“Knew what?” He eyes the dagger in my hand, then moves his gaze to my face. “That you’re mad? Who are you?”
“I’m not mad! And don’t try to backpedal. Who are you? What have you done? Has to be something recent, I was sent only today.” I move slowly, crossing one foot in front of the other, circling him.
He moves in the opposite direction, matching my steps as he watches me closely. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I lunge, jabbing my dagger, but he hurdles to the side and grabs my outstretched arm, spinning me. I grunt and elbow his side. That doesn’t faze him, and he wraps his other arm around my waist, hauling me to him—my back against his chest.
“Stop for a min—oomph.” I land a blow to his groin with the heel of my foot and he releases me.
“I’m tired of your games, lover boy,” I say, then I lunge again.
This time I clip his arm and blood darkens his uniform. He cups the bleeding sleeve, leaving himself open, vulnerable. Why doesn’t he go for his sword? I shake the thought from my head, ready to finish him. I go in for the kill, but he grabs my arm, dragging me over his shoulder and I land on my back hard, losing the grip on my weapon.
He bears down on top of me, anchoring my wrists to the ground. “Would you stop!”
