Sebastian casts an unsure glance at Devlan. “I suppose the princess must become accustomed to castle life soon enough.”
Devlan’s brow creases. “My lord, surely not on her first day.” He checks himself, squaring his shoulders and lowering his head. “Pardon me, Your Highness. I was merely thinking of—”
“Nay. You’re right, of course.” Sebastian runs a finger over his chin. “Show Zara out the back way so she doesn’t hear.”
“Hear what?” I glance between them. “What’s happening?”
Sebastian takes my hand in his. “I presume in the country you don’t hear much about the affairs of state, but there is a network working to overthrow our realm. I believe this Kyle Levine has information, and we must convince him to share it.” He grimaces. “Until later.”
With that, he places a kiss on my hand and hurries out of the atrium.
I turn to Devlan. “Take me there,” I demand. “I know this man. He is no traitor, and I will speak for him.”
His dark eyebrows crawl up his forehead. “Princess, this is not a trial.”
Of course it’s not. There are no trials in Karm. Pulling my shoulders back, I bring all of my five feet, two inches before him. “Regardless, I want to be privy to the happenings in Court.”
He shakes his head. “I promise you, Princess. You do not.” He waves his hand toward a giant glass door at the back of the atrium. “Come. I’ll show you the garden. A lady would enjoy a stroll among the flowers more than the business of men.”
Gritting my teeth, I nod. “Very well.” I take a step forward to follow him. I have no choice, do I? How will I convince the prince and his first knight that I’m compliant, and then free my father and myself, if I speak out? When Devlan stops at the door and reaches inside his uniform to bring out a key ring, I’m reminded of the Force grabbing their V-Batons…clubbing my father over his head…blood pooling on the earth.
They have the apothecary—my father’s friend.
The glass door slides open and Devlan walks outside. Fresh air blasts me, and I fill my lungs, drawing in strength.
I turn and chase after Sebastian.
“Princess!” Devlan shouts.
I hike my gown and run faster to catch up with the prince. I know Mr. Levine is innocent, and whatever the Force has in store for my father’s friend is vile.
When I reach the inner ward, I halt and glance around. My breath comes in pants as I search for the direction the prince went.
A strangled cry sounds from outside the castle.
Dread spikes my blood. The stifled protest transforms into a cry that carries through the entryway. I disregard the curious stares of the servants and head toward the courtyard. I push through the large doors, my limbs quaking and my head light, and stop.
In the middle of the arcade, five members of the Force surround a wooden contraption. Mr. Levine is strapped to the machine’s bench. Above, a beam stretches its length, where blades and hooks dangle inches from his body.
FIVE
A foul sickness rises up from my stomach and coats my throat. The contraption Mr. Levine is secured to rumbles to life as a member of the Force cranks a lever on its side.
Mr. Levine wails as the rafter above him inches forward and a hook stops just above his stomach. A member of the Force grabs the hook. My feet are frozen to the stone. I’m unable to move—my system shocked. The point of the hook pierces his flesh. His sharp cry unhinges me, and I bolt forward.
The sight of blood streaming from Mr. Levine’s side nearly knocks me to the ground, but I force my feet to run toward the knight cranking the lever on the machine. “Stop!”
Another shrill, gurgling cry rips from the apothecary’s throat as the hook rises, bringing with it his entrails.
My head lightens, I’m dizzy, and I slur my next order. “Sh-top!”
Before I reach Mr. Levine, arms circle my waist, and I’m halted. Someone pulls me against their hard chest as I flail my arms. “Zara,” a harsh voice says.
My eyes widen as the knight digs the hook into Mr. Levine’s stomach again. Bile burns my throat and nostrils. I gasp air into my constricted lungs, trying to clear my stinging sinuses. “Make them stop,” I plead, my voice trembling. There’s so much blood.
A hand covers my eyes, and I’m being dragged away. The cool air of the inner ward wraps around me, soothing some of the nausea roiling my stomach.
The fingers digging into my arm loosen their grip, and the hands turn me about. “Have you never seen a live transmission from the king?” Sebastian’s face is flush from the exertion of wrangling me into the castle.