by Cass, Kiera
I heard more shouts, more guns going off, and knew this was going to be one of the bad attacks. My mind became sharp, more focused. I had one mission, and that was all I could see.
Tanner and I crept up to the third floor, finding several side tables, art pieces, and plants already demolished. A rebel, using something like lumpy paint he must have brought with him, was writing something into the wall. I quickly moved up behind him and butted him in the head with the handle of my gun. He dropped, and I bent to check him for weapons.
A second later, a fresh wave of gunshots came at the other end of the hall, and Tanner dragged me behind a turned-up couch. When the noise died, we peeked out to assess the damage.
“I count six,” he said.
“Same. I can get two, maybe three.”
“That’s enough. Remainders might rush. Or have guns.”
I looked around. Taking a shard of broken mirror, I cut part of the couch’s upholstery off and wrapped it around the glass. “Use this if they get too close.”
“Nice,” Tanner commented, then aimed his gun. I did the same.
The shots were quick, and we each took out two rebels before the two others turned, running toward us, not away. Remembering orders to keep rebels alive for questioning, I aimed at their legs, but with them moving so frantically, my shots all missed.
Tanner and I watched as a hulking man lumbered down Tanner’s side of the hall, while an older guy, wiry and wild-eyed, came toward me. I holstered my gun, preparing myself for a fight.
“Damn. You got the good one,” Tanner commented before launching himself over the chair and running full speed at his opponent.
I was a split second behind him. The older rebel came at me, yelling with his hands stretched out like claws. I grabbed one of his arms while using my makeshift knife to cut at his chest.
He wasn’t the strongest thing, and part of me actually pitied him. When I latched on to his arm, I could feel his bones far too easily.
He whimpered and fell to his knees, and I pulled his arms behind him, securing both those and his legs with restraining bands. As I was tying them together, someone grabbed me from behind and slammed me into a nearby portrait, cutting my forehead on the glass.
I was dizzy and the blood was already leaking into my eyes, making it harder for me to face my enemy. I felt a thrill of panic before my training came back to me. I crouched as he held on to me from behind, and used my leverage to flip him over my shoulder.
Though he was much bigger than me, he crashed onto the debris-covered floor. I reached for more restraining bands only to collapse as another rebel barged into me.
I was pinned to the floor, my arms held down by a large man straddling my stomach.
His breath was swampy and foul as he spoke into my face.
“Take me to the king,” he ordered, his voice like gravel.
I shook my head.
He released my arms, grabbing fistfuls of my jacket, and I reached up to push at his face. But he pulled me up by my clothes and slammed my head into the floor, making me drop my hands to the ground instantly. My head swam and my breathing felt off. The rebel palmed my skull, forcing me to face him.
“Where. Is. The. King?”
“Don’t know,” I gasped, fighting the ache in my head.
“Come on, pretty boy,” he teased. “Give me the king, and I might let you live.”
I couldn’t mention the safe room. Even if I hated the things the king did, giving him away meant giving America away, and that was not an option.
I could lie. Maybe buy myself enough time to get out of this.
Or I could die.
“Fourth floor,” I lied. “Hidden room in the east wing. Maxon’s there, too.”
He smiled, his disgusting breath coming out with his short laugh. “Now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”
I stayed silent.
“Maybe if you’d told me the first time I asked, I wouldn’t have to do this.”
He laced his hands gruffly around my throat, squeezing. On top of my already cloudy head, this was torture. My legs flailed, and I bucked my hips, trying to throw him off. It was pointless. He was simply too big.
I felt my limbs stop working, all oxygen escaping my system.
Who would tell my mother?
Who would take care of my family?
. . . at least I kissed America one last time.
. . . one last time.
. . . time.
Through the haze, I heard the gun go off and felt the massive rebel go limp and fall to the side. My throat made bizarre noises as it pulled air into my body again.
“Leger? You okay?”
My eyes were going black, so I couldn’t make out Avery’s face. But I heard him. And that was enough.
CHAPTER 11
THE DEBRIEFING WAS HELD IN the hospital wing, since so many officers had ended up there.
“We feel it’s a success that we lost only two men tonight,” our commander said. “Considering their forces, it’s a testament to your training and personal skill that more of you weren’t killed.”
He paused, like maybe we should applaud, but we were too worn down for that.
“We have twenty-three rebels contained for sentencing after being interrogated, which is fantastic. However, I’m disappointed at the body count.” He stared us down. “Seventeen. Seventeen rebels dead.”
Avery ducked his head. He’d already confessed that two of those were his.
“You are not to kill unless you or another officer is being directly threatened, or if you see a rebel attacking a member of the royal family. We need this scum alive for questioning.”
I heard a few quiet huffs throughout the wing. This was one order I didn’t like. We could end things so much faster if we simply eliminated the rebels that came into the palace. But the king wanted his answers, and rumor had it there were particular ways he tortured information out of rebels. I hoped never to learn what those ways were.
“That said, you all did an excellent job protecting the palace and subduing the threat against it. Unless you are one of the few with serious injuries, your posts for the day are the same as originally scheduled. Get sleep if you can, and get ready. It’s going to be a long day with the state the palace is in.”
The head butler thought it would be best to have the royal family and the Elite do their work outside while the staff worked to get the palace back into a presentable shape. The women of the German Federation and the Italian monarchy were coming in a handful of days and the maids were already overwhelmed with preparations.
Between the glaring sun, exhaustion, and my starched uniform, I was already uncomfortable. Add the searing pain from the gash in my head, hidden bruises from being strangled, and some damage I couldn’t even remember getting in my leg, and I was just plain miserable.
The only good thing about this day was that the setup allowed me to be near America. I watched as she sat with Kriss, planning their upcoming event. Besides Celeste, I’d never seen America upset at one of the other girls, but everything about her body language today suggested that she was unhappy with Kriss. Kriss, however, looked completely oblivious as she chatted to America and peeked over at Maxon time and again. It bothered me a little that America followed Kriss’s gaze, but I doubted her feelings were changing. How could she ever look at him and not see Marlee screaming?
The tents and tables around the lawn almost made it look like the royal family was hosting a garden party. Had I not seen it myself, I wouldn’t have guessed that the palace had been ransacked. Everyone here tended to forget about the attacks and move on.
I couldn’t figure out if that was because dwelling on the attacks only made them that much more terrifying or if there was simply no time. It occurred to me that if the royal family really stopped and thought about the attacks, maybe they’d find a better way of preventing them.
“Don’t know why I even bother,” the king said a little too loudly. He handed a paper to someone and gave th
em a quiet order. “Erase Maxon’s marks on this; they’re distracting.”
While the words filled my ears, America’s gaze took all of my sight. She watched me carefully. I could tell she was worried about the bandages on my head, the limp in my steps. I gave her a wink, hoping to calm her nerves. I wasn’t sure if I could make it through a whole day on rounds and then switch with someone to guard her door tonight, but if that was my only way to—
“Rebels! Run!”
I turned my head toward the palace doors, sure someone was confused.
“What?” Markson called.
“Rebels! Inside the palace!” Lodge yelled. “They’re coming!”
I watched the queen bolt upright and run around the side of the palace, heading for a secret entrance under the protection of her maids.
The king snatched up his papers. If I was him, I’d be more worried about my neck than any lost information, no matter what those documents said.
America was still in her chair, paralyzed. I took a step to go get her, but Maxon jumped in front of me, shoving Kriss into my arms.
“Run!” he ordered. I hesitated, thinking of America. “Run!”
I did what I had to and bolted as Kriss called out to Maxon over and over again. A split second later, I heard gunshots and saw a swarm of people flood out of the palace, almost an equal mix of soldiers and rebels.
“Tanner!” I yelled, stopping him as he headed toward the fray. I shoved Kriss in his arms. “Follow the queen.”
He obeyed without question, and I turned to get Mer.
“America! No! Come back!” Maxon screamed. I followed his panicked gaze and saw America running frantically toward the forest, rebels fast on her heels.
No.
The staccato rhythm of the guards firing accentuated America’s pace, hurried and perilous. The rebels were nearly on top of her, bags stuffed. They seemed younger and fitter than the group last night, and I wondered if these were their children, trying to finish what their parents started.
I pulled out my gun and took my stance. I had my eye trained on the back of a rebel’s head, and I fired three quick shots. They all missed when the guy zigzagged and ran behind a tree.
Maxon took a few desperate steps in the direction of the forest, but his father grabbed him before he got very far.
“Stand down!” Maxon yelled, pushing out of his father’s grasp. “You’ll hit her. Cease fire!”
Though America wasn’t a member of the royal family, I doubted anyone would be upset if we killed these rebels without questioning. I ran into the field, took my stance again, and shot twice. Nothing.
Maxon’s hands gripped my collar. “I said stand down!”
While I was an inch or two taller than he was, and I generally thought him to be a coward, the rage in his eyes at that moment demanded respect.
“Forgive me, sir.”
He released me with a push, turning around and running his hand through his hair. I’d never seen him pace like that. It reminded me of his father when he was on the verge of exploding.
Everything he was showing on the outside, I felt on the inside. One of his Elite was gone; the only girl I’d ever loved was missing. I didn’t know if she would be able to outrun the rebels or find a place to hide. My heart was racing with fear and falling apart in hopelessness at the same time.
I’d promised May I wouldn’t let anyone hurt her. I’d failed.
I looked behind me, not sure what I was expecting to see. The girls and staff had all made it to safety. No one remained but the prince, the king, and a dozen or so guards.
Maxon finally looked up at us, and his expression reminded me of a caged animal. “Get her. Get her now!” he screamed.
I debated just running into the forest, wanting to reach America before anyone else did. But how would I find her?
Markson stepped forward. “Come on, boys. Let’s get organized.” We followed him into the field.
My steps were sluggish and I tried to steady myself. I needed to be sharp today. We’re going to find her, I promised myself. She’s tougher than anyone knows.
“Maxon, go to your mother,” I heard the king order.
“You can’t be serious. How am I supposed to sit in some safe room while America’s missing? She could be dead.” I turned back to see Maxon double over and heave, nearly throwing up over the thought.
King Clarkson pulled him upright, gripping him firmly at the shoulders and shaking him. “Get it together. We need you safe. Go. Now.”
Maxon balled his fists, slightly bending his elbows, and for a split second, I genuinely thought he was about to punch his father.
Maybe it wasn’t my place, but I felt certain the king could demolish Maxon if he had the inclination. I didn’t want the guy to die.
After a few charged breaths, Maxon wrenched himself out of his father’s grasp and stomped into the palace.
I whipped my head around, hoping the king wouldn’t realize someone had noticed that interaction. I was wondering more and more about the king’s dissatisfaction with his son, but after that, I couldn’t help but think things went much deeper than Maxon scribbling the wrong notes on his paperwork.
Why would someone so concerned with his son’s safety be so . . . aggressive toward him?
I caught up to the other officers just as Markson started talking. “Are any of you familiar with this forest?”
We all stood silent.
“It’s very large, and branches into a wide spread of trees just a few feet in, as you can see. The palace walls go back about four hundred feet before curving in to meet, but the wall toward the back of the forest has been in disrepair. It wouldn’t be too hard for the rebels to get over a damaged portion, especially considering how easily they got over the strongest sections at the front.”
Well, perfect.
“We’re going to spread out in a line and walk slowly. Look for footprints, dropped goods, bent branches, anything that could be a clue to where they’ve taken her. If it gets too dark, we’ll come back for flashlights and fresh men.”
He eyed us all. “I do not want to come back empty-handed. Either with the lady alive or with her body, we are not leaving the king or prince without answers tonight, do you understand me?”
“Yes, sir,” I yelled, and the others joined.
“Good. Spread out.”
We had only moved a few yards when Markson held out a hand, stopping me.
“That’s a pretty serious limp, Leger. Are you up for this?” he asked.
My blood drained, and I pictured myself going into a rage much like Maxon had. There was no way in hell I wasn’t going.
“I’m perfectly fine, sir,” I vowed.
Markson looked me over again. “We need a strong team for this. Maybe you should stay behind.”
“No, sir,” I answered quickly. “I’ve never disobeyed an order, sir. Don’t make me do it now.”
My eyes were dead serious, and I was sure that was what he saw when I stared him down, determined to go. There was a half smile on his face when he nodded and started heading toward the trees.
“Fine. Let’s go.”
Everything felt like it was moving in slow motion. We would call out for America, and stop to listen for a reply, finding ourselves fooled by the slightest motion or breeze. Someone would find a footprint, but the dirt was so dry, the mark would have disintegrated into nothing two steps later, leaving us with little more than wasted time. Twice we found scraps of clothes caught in low branches, but nothing matched what America was wearing. The worst was the few drops of blood we found. We stopped for an hour to look through every cloistered tree, explore any speck of dirt that might have been upturned.
The evening was coming on, and soon we would lose the light.
While the others marched forward, I stood still for a minute. In any other scenario, I would have found this beautiful. The light filtered down, almost like it wasn’t sunshine at all, but its ghost. The trees reached for one another, like they wer
e desperate for company, and the entire feeling of the place was somewhat haunting.
And I had to brace myself for the possible reality that I would leave this place and not have her with me. Worse, I might leave it carrying her body.
The thought was crippling. What would I fight for in this world if I wasn’t fighting for her?
I was trying to look for the good. She was the only good in me.
I bit back the tears and stood strong. I would just have to keep fighting.
“Be sure to look everywhere,” Markson reminded us. “If they’ve killed her, they might have hung her or tried to bury her. Pay attention.”
His words made me feel sick again, but I pushed past them. “Lady America!” I cried out.
“I’m here!” I trained my ears on the sound, too afraid to believe. “I’m over here!”
America came running, shoeless and dirty, and I holstered my gun to open my arms for her.
“Thank goodness.” I sighed. I wanted to kiss her then and there. But she was breathing and in my arms, and that would have to be enough. “I’ve got her! She’s alive!” I called to the others, watching as the uniforms came toward us.
She was trembling a little, and I could tell she was stunned from the whole experience.
Injured leg or not, I was keeping her in my arms no matter what. I cradled her to me, and she put her hands behind my head, holding on. “I was terrified we were going to find your body somewhere,” I confessed. “Are you hurt?”
“My legs a little.”
I peeked down, and there were some bloody cuts. All things considered, we were lucky.
Markson stopped in front of us, trying to contain his happiness at finding her. “Lady America, are you injured at all?”
“Just some scratches on my legs.”
“Did they try to hurt you?” he continued.
“No. They never caught up to me.”
That’s my girl.
All the faces wore gleefully shocked expressions at this news, but Markson was by far the happiest. “None of the other girls could have outrun them, I don’t think.”
