Rebel's Blade (The Aermian Feuds Book 1)

by Frost Kay

  Sage clenched her eyes closed and tried to slow her breathing as her anxiety rose. “You are not there. This is not that place. No one can hurt you. You are free,” she whispered to herself, trying to keep the panic at bay.

  “Pass phrase,” a deep voice demanded from behind the wooden door.

  An image of a blade pressing along her torso flashed behind her closed lids. Sage braced both hands on the thick door to keep upright. She panted heavily as she fought the urge to run up the stairs in search of comforting light. She took a shallow breath, and managed to say, “It’s Blade.”

  “That’s not possible,” the voice argued.

  Irritation combined with her terror caused her to lash out, kicking at the door. “God damn it, Hayjen! Open the bloody door!” She was teetering on the edge of hysteria.

  The door yanked open, and she stumbled forward into the arms of a giant man. Already feeling trapped in the darkness, the sudden contact from this man had her entire body trembling.

  He needed to stop touching her. Now.

  Instinctually, Sage slammed her knee up into his groin, and he doubled over in pain. She twisted and stabbed her elbow into his face, his head snapping back. Sage planted her foot on his stomach kicking him into the wall.

  “What the bloomin’ hell was that for?” he wheezed, his large body sliding down the wall.

  It was like she was trapped inside herself as she watched herself attack this man for no reason. The sound of his voice penetrated her panic, ringing with familiarity. She had attacked her friend. Hesitantly, she rose from her defensive crouch, taking a tentative step toward him.

  “Hayjen?” she whispered.

  Her old friend glared at her from his spot on the floor. “Sweetheart, who else could it possibly be?” he lisped through his newly acquired split lip.

  She squatted in front of him, staying out of reach, and offered a sincere apology. “It has been a rough couple of weeks. I am so sorry.”

  “Where have you been? You just disappeared one day. We searched but no one discovered any hint as to your whereabouts.” He scanned her from head to toe, snagging on her wrist. Self-consciously she pulled her sleeve down, and his ice blue eyes snapped to hers. “Where did that come from?” he barked out the words, his voice menacing.

  For a split second, a horrid flashback was her reality, and she again experienced the pressure of the chains and the warmth of her own blood dripping down her body. She shuddered, shaking her head to dislodge the memory, and forced herself to meet his penetrating gaze. “That’s what I need to discuss with Rafe. Can you take me to him?”

  Hayjen scrutinized her for another moment before grunting. Sage took that as a ‘yes’ and stood, stiffly offering her hand to the bear of a man. His meaty hand clasped hers as she hauled him to his feet. Sage made to release his hand but his tightened around hers.

  “One minute,” he mumbled.

  She trembled in his grip when he lifted her hand to his face. She bit her cheek, mortified with her own weakness. Hayjen would never hurt her yet here she was cowering like he was an enemy. It sickened her.

  Lightly, he drew a finger along the uneven skin that had finally begun to heal. “You will carry these scars for the rest of your life, and I am sorry for it. But you aren’t the only one.” He dropped her hand and pushed up his shirt sleeves, displaying thick wrists bearing scars remarkably similar to her own. Her eyes sought his, and she saw just how much he understood her pain. No pity, but respect. They shared a special kind of camaraderie born from their fellow suffering and survival.

  “Rafe will not like it.” Hayjen nodded to her wrists. “He has been in a foul mood of late.”

  The comment made Sage crack a smile; his anger was legendary. Rafe didn’t lose his temper often, but when he did, it was a sight to behold. The man’s wrath could make a Nagalian sand storm seem like a small burst of wind. Hayjen gestured for her to follow and began navigating the winding corridors.

  For anyone who didn’t know their way around, it was a disorienting labyrinth of tunnels. Every once in a while, her nose would catch the scent of sea salt on a draft. Some of the tunnels connected with the ocean; an easy escape if the location was compromised. She would take the leviathan—the giant carnivorous fish—over the Elite any day.

  She winced at her disingenuous thoughts. If she’d learned one thing during her “stay” at the castle it was that nothing was black and white. Not everyone had been horrible, and she had been surprised with the kindness displayed to her. Stealing away without saying goodbye to Mira, Gav, and the king pained her.

  Angry male voices carried from down the corridor, spiking her pulse. She shoved down her agitation as well as the accompanying guilt. It was something she’d have to deal with later. Hayjen swung to his right through a doorway and stepped to the side as she breached the doorway.

  The scene they came upon as they entered astonished her. There had to be at least twenty-five men crammed into the tiny space. Rafe had his back to her and was listening to a thin older man, named Mason, who was waving his hands wildly as he tried to get his point across. People were talking over one another, and stabbing fingers at each other.

  What’s going on?

  All the loud male voices unnerved her, and goosebumps broke out on her arms. Sage rubbed them vigorously trying to rid herself of the sensation. No one had yet noticed her. She took a deep breath and crossed her arms to hide their shaking and fortified herself for what she knew needed to be done. Sage struck a casual pose on the wall, and projected her voice, using the smokiest tone she could manage: “Gentlemen! Gentlemen! This is no way to act in the presence of a lady. Have you all forgotten your manners while I’ve been away?”

  Silence descended and twenty-five heads swiveled her way. The quiet was deafening. Her heart beat frantically in her chest, and nausea tried to overwhelm her, but Sage pushed through it, focusing on Rafe’s back so she wouldn’t have to look into all those eyes and panic.

  The rebellion’s leader tensed, and he turned to face her. His luminescent amber eyes zeroed in on her, a wealth of emotion displayed there. Looking at him, she had a sudden realization. After everything that had happened the last few weeks, she had expected him to appear different in some way because she felt so different herself, yet here he was, looking exactly the same. Seeing his long scar and unruly wine colored hair, exactly as she remembered it, comforted her somehow

  She was home.

  “Little one,” he breathed out the fond nickname. Her heart flew to her throat as he rushed up to her and swept her into his arms. His familiar spicy scent washed over her as he hugged her tighter.

  This was as close to family she’d been in almost a month. “My family?” she choked into his chest.

  “They have been taken care of. They never stopped searching for you. Every time they posted a drawing of you we had to pull it down. We didn’t want the Crown getting anywhere close to them.”

  Grateful tears ran down her face and onto his shirt. He had protected her family, keeping them safe when she could not. She was safe. She was finally safe.

  “Let it out, little one. Let it out. I have you,” Rafe soothed.

  She was only vaguely aware that she started crying. She’d held in so many of her emotions for so long that there was no stopping it. Everything she’d bottled up came out in a rush. After a bit, she pulled back and looked into Rafe’s face, the sight so dear to her. He clasped her cheeks with large hands and brushed away any evidence of her tears.

  “You’re safe now.” He leaned down and pressed a tender kiss to the crown of her head, tucking her tightly against his chest once again, like he was afraid she would slip away. A soothing rumble began in his chest, relaxing her.

  A stray thought popped into her head. Did grown men purr? Was that what he was doing? She would have to ask her mum about it later.

  Rafe lifted her, squeezing tighter, and she raised her head from his shoulder, looking to the silent group of men. Sage stared into their faces,
embarrassment colored her cheeks. Maybe she could take a page from Sam’s book and use humor to cut the awkwardness. She crossed her eyes and gave them a silly grin. Most returned it with one of their own.

  Mission accomplished.

  She tapped Rafe on the shoulder to put her down when she spotted a familiar pair of eyes. Her whole body froze as she continued to stare into the eyes of the person who featured in her nightmares every night. Sage would never forget him: the monster masquerading as a man.

  She could barely breathe. A dull roar sounded in her ears, her head fuzzy. The walls closed in on her. As her feet touched the ground, the breath rushed out of her. She couldn’t see him any longer but she swore she still felt him, if that was even possible. What was he doing here? Panting, she tried to pull herself together.

  “What’s wrong? You need to take another breath. You’re shaking.”

  The shaking didn’t stop though. It only worsened.

  Hayjen stepped up next to her and pulled her sleeves up to display her injuries. “This might have something to do with the way she is reacting.”

  Sage stared down at her wrists, eyes stinging, ashamed of the scars but too panicked to do anything about it. A hand tilted her chin up, and she met burning amber eyes. “Are there more?”

  She closed her eyes and dug for courage. Sage took a breath and looked Rafe straight in the face. “Yes, there are many more.” She wet her lips before continuing. “You have a spy in your midst.”

  Genuine shocked crossed both men’s faces. “Who?” Rafe demanded.

  “Serge,” she took a breath and continued in a hushed tone: “That was the name he went by. The plain fellow. Brown hair, brown eyes, incredibly tall. He is staring at us now. He was a captain of the Guard at the palace.” Her voice never wavered or cracked. A small success.

  Rafe spun, pointing at the culprit. “Is that the man you saw?”

  Her eyes flew to him, a scant fifteen feet away, not able to turn her gaze away. Terror filled her. Rafe snapped his fingers in front of her face, and she blinked, looking back at him.

  “He is not a spy Sage, he works for us. We planted him in the Guard so we’d have eyes inside the dungeon and on the spymaster. He gave us the information on your whereabouts so we could get you out. His name is Rhys.”

  “Us?” Sage mumbled to herself. Rhys. The name was familiar, but she’d never met the elusive member of the rebellion’s circle. He had been on an assignment since she joined. The room blurred, and the ground heaved beneath her feet. She stumbled back, into Rafe. Everything was off kilter. Serge was a spy. “You sent him?”

  “Yes,” he drawled.

  Her gaze bounced from Rafe to Serge—or Rhys, or whatever his name was. Something broke inside her. Anger and hate warred with her terror before the former overcame the latter. Determination filled her. They were separated only by a round table. He was so close, a wicked smile adorning his face. It didn’t matter whom he’d sided with. He was a horrible human being, and he should never be allowed to harm anyone else. She would make sure of it.

  Sage snatched Rafe’s dagger from his waist and spun out of his arms. She launched herself onto the table, sprinting toward the man who’d haunted her. Only a couple more feet and she’d reach him. Strong hands grasped her ankles, yanking her feet out from under her. She threw the blade with a feral cry as she crashed down into the table. Her elbow smarted, but she didn’t care. Her eyes never left the monster bleeding in front of her.

  She missed.

  She’d missed his heart and had struck his shoulder.

  Sage fought to move forward but was wrenched across the wooden table by powerful arms. The whole room erupted into a chorus of shouts as men rushed to help their downed man. Sage struggled harder, but no matter what she did the arms circling her would not let go.

  Desperation filled her. “You sick, twisted piece of garbage! You are the evil in our world!” Rafe had moved a step back from the table, so, seeing an opening, Sage lifted her legs and pushed off the table trying to knock him off her. “Mark my words, you wretch! You’ll die!” she screamed.

  “Stop!” Rafe bellowed in her ear.

  “Never,” she promised. “Put me down. That animal doesn’t deserve to live.”

  “I don’t think so. Not after the stunt you just pulled. Why would you attack one of our brothers?”

  She stilled, disgusted with his word choice. “Brother?” Her icy voice was deadly calm. The venomous tone caught the attention of those closest to them. “Brother?” Sage hissed again. “Do brothers chain their families to the ceiling? Or torture them for hours? Or…” She swallowed bile and continued, “or try to rape their sisters?”

  Rafe’s arms had slackened at her last statement. Sage used his shock to her advantage and tucked her chin, pushing his forearm over her head in one swift motion. In less than five seconds, she was out of his hold and backing away. “You! You sent him to me.”

  Rafe’s face was filled with pity. She didn’t need his pity. Sage shook her head, her long braid whipping around her head. This was his fault. Betrayed emerald eyes met remorse-filled amber ones. The entire time she’d been blaming the Crown for her suffering, it wasn’t the Crown’s doing after all; it was her own so-called brotherhood.

  “I was keeping my cover! Someone had to interrogate you, and I was protecting you from much worse things. The Crown is corrupt so stop being so ungrateful for what I did for the cause.” After he’d finished, his face contorted in pain, bringing her a small amount of satisfaction.

  “You! Shut your damn mouth!” Rafe thundered, sending a deadly glare Rhys’s way.

  His voice sent shivers along her flesh. Sage sucked in a breath and stared down her personal demon, numbness settling over her. “You almost killed me,” she said, her tone flat. “I’m sure I could do without your special form of protection. The Crown protected me, not you. If this is what you all are—” She waved a hand, indicating the remaining men. “If this is how you operate, I want no part in it. The princes’ rule is a far cry above anything you lot would accomplish.”

  “Then the rumors are true, you are a whore. Mistress to the king, the princes, or perhaps all of them, at least from what I’m told,” Rhy’s sneered.

  Suddenly, the anger was back, and she saw red as she sprung toward the snake spouting lies, but a solid arm wrapped around her middle. She looked into the ice blue eyes; Hayjen. She dropped her eyes and stared straight ahead, frustrated that she was stalled once again.

  Hayjen leaned down to her ear, whispering, “It is not the right time. We will take care of him, I vow it. But it must be when the time is right. Don’t let him get to you now. Take a deep breath and match your breathing to mine.”

  Trusting him, she tried to do as he said, breathing in time with him.

  The viper on the ground smirked at her as someone tended to his wound. “Never fear, though, you won’t be required to entertain the old man for secrets, not anymore. Instead you can be the instrument we need. Poetic justice if you ask me, he won’t ever see it coming from his lover.”

  “What is he talking about?” she questioned Hayjen.

  “He’s talking about the king’s assassination on the night of the Midsummer Festival. They plan to use you to get it done.”

  Her gaze clashed with Rafe’s. “Regicide? That’s your plan?” She looked around the room, but most of the men avoided eye contact. Cowards. “We are supposed to be trying to help the people! We’re not assassins. This is wrong, and you ought to know that. We can’t build our regime on the blood of the royal family!”

  “It will be done.” Rafe stated, his voice ringing with finality. “We voted, and the decision was made. It will happen with or without your help.”

  She snarled at him and squeezed Hayjen’s arm, willing him to let her go. How could they do this? Her friend released her, and she stalked over to Rafe, staring into his rugged face. She searched his eyes, but all she saw was determination. She was so confused. How could he sanction this?
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  “This is wrong,” she whispered, for his ears only. “You know it is.”

  His jaw tightened, but he gave no answer. It seemed he was unwilling to change from this terrible course.

  Disappointment filled her. It was not supposed to be like this. She had thought them her friends, her family even, yet if she didn’t do something they would kill another of her friends. Her mind reeled.

  Sage realized she had only one choice.

  Perhaps if she accepted she would have a chance at thwarting their plan. “I will go along with this but once it’s done, I am out. I never want to see you again.” She squeezed her eyes shut. After a beat, she opened them, looking up at Rafe with all the condemnation in her soul. “You make me sick.”

  She turned on her heel and stormed from the room, a symphony of male voices shouting behind her. She wound through the narrow tunnels until she came to a stairway. The dimly lit walls felt like they were closing in on her. She had to get out.

  She sprinted up the dirty steps and burst into a dim cave echoing with the sounds of thundering waves. Sage’s breaths came in sharp pants, the sea breeze doing nothing for her rising nausea. She leaned over, braced her hands on her knees, and began heaving. The cave spun around her and somehow, she ended up on her hands and knees as she continued retching, her stomach emptying completely before it subsided.

  Weakly, she wiped her hand across her mouth and focused on getting up off the ground. Large hands gripped her waist, startling her, and a piercing scream tore from her throat. A spicy scent tickled her nose. Rafe. It was only Rafe. Despite what her mind knew, in her current state her body still recoiled. She slapped his hands away and spun to face him. She eyed his casual stance and took a couple wary steps back, never taking her eyes from him.

  “Are you all right?” his deep voice rumbled.

  What a dumb question. Why would she be all right?

  She couldn’t bear the sight of him. He made her ill. Tears flooded her eyes, and she had to suck her lips into her mouth to keep them from trembling. He had betrayed her, more than anyone she’d ever known. It would have been less painful had he physically stabbed her. She examined her ruined slippers, trying to get her reaction under control.