The Deceiver's Heart (The Traitor's Game 2)

“Well, for now, stay with me and maybe you’ll live long enough to tell me the story.”

I balled my hand into a fist but felt even less strength in it than before. If I fought, it would have to be with my left hand, which was far less useable. I’d do better at Harlyn’s side.

Harlyn ran with me toward the far end of King’s Lake, where a bridge had been built to allow crossing over the wide river. On our side of the lake, Basil was with Trina and at least fifty men, all of them laying fallen trees in a tall horizontal stack. It would give us a firm position to gather when the battle made it this far.

I pulled Basil aside. “You need to get under cover. If there’s a target on me, surely there is on you too.”

“I’m a prince,” Basil said. “And you should be a king. We’re always targeted.” He took a deep breath. “I was sorry to hear about the loss of the Lonetree Camp. How will that affect the rebellion?”

“It will crush us,” Trina said. “That one assault on the camp probably scattered or killed eighty percent of our people.” She glanced over at me. “How is your arm?”

Harlyn grabbed my hand and lifted it for Basil to see the injury. He stared up at me with widened eyes. “You found a Rawkyren.” It wasn’t a question, nor did he look at all happy to have spoken those words.

“What can we do for him?” Harlyn asked.

“I know what this means.” Basil’s frown became pronounced. “When we have time, I’ll explain. But this may change everything.”

His words were drowned out by another screeching sound overhead, different from the Rawkyren’s. “Everyone get behind the barricades!” Basil ordered.

His own men were calling for him to come, but he waited for Trina and me to run ahead of him. A shadow passed over him and he paused to look up. Trina screamed out a warning, but it was too late. A giant condor swooped down, grabbing Basil with its talons and carrying him into the air.

“Bring down that bird!” I shouted, running out from behind the barricades. His men threw their pikes and the few who had disk bows aimed them upward, but the condor was already out of range. Both Basil and the bird disappeared into the morning sun, almost certainly headed to the dungeons of Highwyn. Almost certainly headed to his doom.

Watching Basil be carried away had hit me like cannon fire, and I was still reeling, staying on my feet only with sheer willpower. Through all the commotion around me, I stared at the sky until his body disappeared, fully aware of the torture and terror that awaited him, and how little any of us could do to stop it.

Almost immediately after I last saw him, the Dominion army crashed into the clearing, breaking through Commander Mindall’s lines. We had nowhere to retreat.

A gray-haired Reddengrad soldier took up command, ordering half the men to raise their pikes while the rest of the men continued to build new barricades behind us. My sword was in my left hand, almost entirely useless. Harlyn looked over at me with widened eyes, and asked, “Is this the end?”

A horn sang out in the distance and suddenly everything went silent. No more thundering of running animals, no whooshing sound of blades from the thicket. No orders being shouted. Basil’s men froze in their work too, looking to their new captain for answers. It became eerily quiet, with only the rushing river echoing in my ears.

From up on the hillside, a sound slowly grew from a soft, rhythmic beat to dozens of footsteps in a precise march. I turned toward the top of the hill on the south side of the river. My heart sank the instant I saw them.

These were some of the Coracks from the Lonetree Camp, fifty or more. I recognized many of them, though even from this distance, I knew something was wrong. Their expressions were flat, and their eyes were fixed toward the Dominion armies, as though they were waiting for orders. There could only be one reason for it.

“Ironhearts,” I mumbled, the single word washing a chill over me. Endrick was clearly directing their every move from afar.

One of the men from the back of the two lines moved forward, taking a position in the center. My gut twisted. That was Captain Tenger. Endrick must have known who he was and wanted us to see him so that we’d understand this wasn’t only the end of the battle; this was the end of the rebellion.

Above us, more condors swooped in from overhead, firing pellets that demolished our barricades and forced us back out into the open fields. I charged out with the men, though with one injured arm now holding only a knife, I knew I had the disadvantage. No, it was worse than that. I had little hope for myself or anyone else here.

Near the edge of the forest, a soldier at least a head taller than me raised his sword in my direction. I sighed and lowered my knife like I’d accepted defeat. And maybe I had, though not to thi

s oversized fool. When he was nearly to me, I ducked away from his sword and instead plunged the knife directly into his chest. It cost me a deep slice on my shoulder, but he fell at my feet.

Nauseous and overwhelmed with pain, I stumbled into the forest to collect myself, finally settling in the brush against a tree. My shoulder was bleeding and I covered it with my hand, then closed my eyes to rest, to figure out what to do next.

Though as far as I could tell, we were entirely out of options.

We had lost, and every one of us would pay for it with our lives.

I crossed the Mistriver Bridge without being noticed, but on the outskirts of the Nesting Woods, I met my first Ironheart, a man who must have been captive to Lord Endrick for so long that his eyes were utterly deadened. He charged at me with his sword out, forcing me to react. I felled him with the Brillian sword I had taken from Wynnow’s palace, amazed at how light the metal was, and how sharp. It truly was a superior weapon.

On his heels, four more soldiers rushed toward me, all with swords positioned for attack. I swung at the first two and left my mark, but the third one cut my arm as he rode by, so deep I nearly fell from my horse. With my free hand, I grabbed the outstretched arm of the nearest soldier and drew enough strength from him to heal my wound, and then took more until he toppled to the ground without a single visible injury.

This group must have been assigned to protect the perimeter of the forest, for I saw the smoke rising from the canopy and the condors flying overhead. That’s where the real battle would be. That’s where Simon would be.

Because of the thick undergrowth, it was necessary to leave my horse outside the forest, and so I tied it off, then headed as quietly as possible toward the fighting. I kept the hood of my cloak raised and the sword beneath its folds. There was no sense in announcing myself any sooner than necessary.