I shake my head, over and over, then stop. The thief. The hanging. But that was damn near humane compared to that torture device. What’s more, I know Mr. Levine. I’ve spent time with him in his shop, and with his daughters. He came to our home. Went fishing with my father. Is Mr. Levine’s torture being transmitted? Is his family watching right now?
Sebastian presses his lips together and his brow furrows. “You cannot interfere with our means of questioning.”
“Questioning?” I snap. Fury ignites, searing my blood. “How is he to tell you anything when his insides are spilling from his body?” I shove against his chest, hard. He doesn’t budge, and I raise my clenched fists to slam them against his stubborn form.
He grabs my wrists and firmly holds me in place. “The Force has already exhausted their simplest means of questioning. He gave nothing up.” He lowers his face toward mine; his warm breath fans my bangs. “This is the next logical step. You must know this.”
Angry, I try to turn away from him, holding back tears. “Did it ever occur to you that mayhap he knows nothing? And to simply end his torment, he’ll now tell you whatever you wish to hear?”
His eyes study my face, and his expression sours. “Come, Zara. You know that isn’t the truth.” His lips twist into a sneer. “After all, it was you who led the Force to him.”
My mouth falls open, and I shake my head. “No,” I whisper. I shove him backward one last time and free myself.
The tapestries along the corridors blur past me as I run, seeking an escape.
I don’t care that I have no plan—that I’m leaving with nothing. I need to be away from here. Now. Only one thing slows my pace.
My father.
What is happening to him in the Oubliette? Is he suffering the same fate from a similar device? When the mad misbehave, do they beat them and torture them back into line? Before I can think better of it, I’m hastening through the atrium, heading for the glass door.
The Oubliette can’t be far from the castle. It’s on the king’s grounds somewhere. Devlan has left the door unlocked, and I launch into the garden area and begin my search. There’s a latticed entrance to a maze past the garden, and the training ground is to my right. Deciding to go straight, I pick up the hem of my gown and run. A fire snakes its way down my throat.
I pass the center fountain and turn in to the entrance of the maze. Stumbling, I look down at what tripped me and nearly retch. A dead bird lies in the grass, its white neck crooked at an odd angle. I back away from it slowly, then head farther into the maze.
The walls of green stretch high above my head, and only the clouds guide my path. Everything else looks the same.
Two openings present themselves. I pause. I’m not sure that the Oubliette is even located here, but for some slightly twisted reason, I feel that it would be. I close my eyes for a moment, and then turn right.
The pathway feels never-ending. My heart races as I run faster, deeper toward the center. My limbs shake with panic and exertion. I reach a dead end and slam my hands into the wall of bushes. I could turn back, but I’ve wasted precious time. Beating down the wall feels right, and I claw at the stems and thorns. Hands latch onto my arms, and I yelp.
“Princess,” Devlan says, his voice deep, calm.
I continue my attack on the bushes. My hands are streaked with red. Devlan tears me away from the wall and turns me around, then pushes my back against the shrubbery.
He breathes deeply through his nose, his lips pressed into a hard line. His eyes scan my face as his chest rises and falls. “Don’t let them break you,” he whispers. “Be made of steel, like the walls that surround you.”
The depth of his pale blue eyes holds me captive. I see fear in them, but I also see strength, honor. His gaze is heated and steady, and something inside me wavers. As their blue intensifies, matching the bright streaks marring the sky, a strange calm settles over me.
When he seems convinced I’m through with my fit, he tentatively releases me. He’s close enough that I feel the heat rolling off his body. The inch of air between us is alive with tension until he slowly takes a step backward.
We stare at one another. Then he glances
around the maze, his eyes seeking invisible ears, reminding me that I’m being spied on.
He turns and motions me before him, and we walk back silently. No more words between us.
* * *
Cameras are everywhere in Karm. Hidden, so that the old-world feel of the Camelot-esque culture is not lost. As I walk the castle grounds, today’s happenings heavy on my mind, I glance around at the tree branches, trying to spy one of the Eyes.
In my whole life, I’ve only witnessed a handful of arguments in town. Someone not happy with a purchase in the market, or another discontent with their placement or station. The Force addressed every episode swiftly, before it became a bigger matter. They use their watchful Eyes to remedy incidents immediately, assuring us that we live in a perfect society.
Most citizens are content living the fairytale life the king has created for them. I believe they are happy, in some strange way. But for all the wrong reasons. This is not how Camelot was ruled, by fear.
No one so much as gives a stern look to another. The king’s transmitted punishments suppress any thought of rebellion. We have been conditioned. It wasn’t possible that Mr. Levine was guilty of traitorous actions; we fear the consequences too much. And yet, he helped my father hide his illness. He probably helped others in the same way. Does wanting to care for sick people make you a traitor, though?
To King Hart and his Force, I suppose it does.