The Runaway King (Ascendance 2)

Devlin locked eyes with me and his smile darkened. “So you can use a sword after all. But you won’t yet. What are you saving it for?”

I hesitated for just a moment before I said, “I am better than you, Devlin. And I’m saving this sword until it’s time for everyone else to understand that too.”

He let me leave, but I knew it wouldn’t be long before I’d have to pay for those words.

On my way back to the main part of camp, I spied Imogen near a clump of trees. She was kneeling on the ground planting a patch of daisies, and frowned when she looked up and saw me.

“You look upset,” she said. “What happened down there?”

“Time is running out. For both of us.”

She motioned me toward her and I sighed. I’d have preferred to be alone until I’d calmed down, but I never could refuse her requests, and especially not here.

“Someone might see us,” I said, glancing around. There were others in the area, but at least nobody was nearby.

“Come here, then.” I followed her down a small hill to where the trees and slope provided good protection from any casual observation. She pulled a raw potato from a pocket of her apron, and then gestured for me to sit beside her, which I did. “The burn from that branding iron can be painful.”

I made a face. “A potato?”

“Hush. Show me your arm.” I held out the arm that had been branded. Imogen supported the back of my hand and rotated my wrist so she could see the burn better. “Does it hurt?”

“I’m fine.”

“Of course you are. They could break your bones in half and you’d tell me that’s fine too.” Then she let my arm rest in her lap while she cut away some of the peel from the potato.

Imogen next sliced the potato into thin strips and laid them over the burn. Almost instantly, they started to pull the heat from my arm. When she finished laying the strips down, she set the knife and the rest of the potato on the ground. She put one hand under my wrist and the other beneath my elbow, keeping the potato slices balanced.

We sat that way in silence for several minutes. I didn’t want to speak and shatter our delicate peace. I’d either make things worse or finally convince her to leave. And I was ashamed to realize a part of me didn’t want to succeed in making her go. There was a comfort in having someone on my side in this miserable place.

“I saw you and Devlin down on the beach,” she finally said. “He was taunting you.”

“It was a test.”

“You’re still here, so you must have passed.”

“I didn’t. I doubt there’s any way to pass his tests.”

Imogen began adjusting the strips, moving cooler ones onto the burn and dropping the others on the ground. “I thought you were going to fight him. Even from where I stood it was obvious you wanted to.”

“Yes, I did.” I still wanted to, in fact.

“You can’t bring the pirates down, Jaron.”

“I know.”

“Which means our only choice is to escape this place. We can run from here tonight, you and me. There’s no shame in that.”

“Run?” Irritated, I shook the strips off my arm, then stood and picked up my sword. “Tell me why you knew I had another reason for leaving the castle last week. Do you recall that?”

A single tear rolled down Imogen’s cheek before she answered. “It was because you don’t run. Not even when it’s the only logical thing to do.”

“No,” I snapped. “Never.” And I started to walk away.

“Jaron, there’s more.” Before I had turned around, she stood and added, “I overheard Devlin talking. Roden’s coming. He’s expected sometime tomorrow.”

I paused and closed my eyes before speaking. “Does he know about you?”

Imogen shook her head. “I also heard that he volunteered to come to Carthya that night. Not because he cared about the message he was supposed to give you, but because he wanted you to know about him. Don’t you see how personal his attack on you was?”