His dark hair falls across his forehead into his eye, and I nearly lift my hand to brush it aside. Balling my hand into a fist by my thigh, I stop myself from reaching out. His smile fades as his eyes roam the features of my face. His lips part slightly, and his face moves closer.
My breath stills in my lungs.
He drops the swords to his sides. Then he tilts his head as his face nears mine. Our cheeks nearly touch—my skin a live current as his lips brush my ear. “You’ve forgotten about your secret weapon.”
My breath whooshes out. “Damn. I forgot about my dagger.” I could’ve easily grabbed it and…I don’t know. Maybe thrown it at him to get away.
Tilting his head back, his eyes stare at me through half-lidded slits. His finger traces up my arm, sending shivers dancing along my spine. “I wasn’t referring to your dagger.”
I squint, and his finger slowly backtracks down its heated trail. “A woman has a disarming weapon that, I firmly believe, no man is capable of resisting.”
My breath halts. My heart slams against my chest. I don’t breathe again until his lips stretch into an easy smile and his eyes shimmer with mock-humor, releasing me from his spell.
“I don’t believe I have the necessary skills, Devlan, to vex a man in that way.”
He backs away two steps and hands me my sword, then turns and heads toward the corner of the room. I release a frustrated breath, lay my sword to the side, and rub the still-tingling skin of my arm.
“Trust me, Zara.” His head snaps in my direction, his eyes devoid of humor. “You do.”
TWENTY-FOUR
The domed grid streaks the overcast sky, turning the usually bright-green lawn into a rolling field of blue and gray. I gather my white gown, lifting the hem above the grass, and march toward the lake.
I glance back at Devlan. His scowl is already apparent as he knows what I’m about to say.
Once at the bank, I settle down on the grass. Devlan looms beside me. “Zara.” He speaks low, into the wind, so the Eyes can’t pick up his voice. “You’re not ready.”
I pluck a lone dandelion. “I may never be ready, Devlan. But every day the barrier stands is another day I risk my father’s life.”
He doesn’t respond to this. He knows it’s the truth. His parents are out there, too, but his situation is different from mine. His parents work inside Morgana and aren’t considered for sacrifices. My father is a grunt worker, and could be tossed to the cannibals at the next Yielding.
Turning away from me, Devlan laces his arms over his chest and walks the bank.
I frown at his impossible resistance to hearing me out and blow the puffs of white seed. They float off with the breeze, scattering over the lake.
The past couple of weeks have lulled me into a steady rhythm, with most of my days spent alongside Madity, preparing for the marriage ceremony, and the others with Sebastian as he readies Karm for the grandest tournament ever, making way for a new king.
During the nights, I’ve trained to become the assassin that will free Karm of its dictatorial king.
Each day I grow more anxious. We need to initiate the mission as soon as possible, as I fear my father could be forced to the front of the line. I know I can convince Sebastian to take me to meet the king now, rather than waiting for the night of the wedding, but Devlan continues to insist that I need more training.
I do understand his point. We only have one shot when the time comes, and I have to be at my best. I sigh with resignation. I just don’t know how much longer I can bear my father being Outside.
“We’re meeting Fallon at the meadow tonight.” Devlan says, interrupting my brooding. He moves closer and kneels before me. “She’ll evaluate your progress, and we’ll discuss timing with her. That’s final.”
Looking past his gaze, I focus on the dark water as it ripples over the lake, the breeze carrying a silent plea in my heart. Devlan is the first knight to Sebastian, but he’s first and foremost a Rebel, and he’s committed. Whatever Fallon decides, she’s the leader—his leader. There will be no arguing with him if she says I’m not ready.
Devlan’s communicator crackles inside his vest. He brings it to his lips. “Devlan.”
A short hiss, then a voice says, “His Highness has requested an early assembly in the great hall. Bring the princess.”
My brow creases as I study Devlan’s face. He accepts the request, and slips the device back into his vest. “Do you know what this is about?” I ask.
He shakes his head, his face set in hard lines. “No. But let’s not keep His Highness waiting.” He rises and pulls me up beside him.
As we hurry toward the castle, my thoughts are occupied with my perplexing relationship with Sebastian nearly as much as with the mission.
The prince has been consumed with the tournament, which has given me ample time to slip away and train and has also kept him from pressuring my affections. In the time I do spend with him, we talk about the changes he wants to make in Karm, and I believe we’ve developed a tentative friendship. Deceiving Sebastian daily twists my insides with gnawing guilt.