A howl wrenches the night, and Devlan pulls back. “We shouldn’t be so close to the barricade.” He takes my hand. “Come on. I want you in my arms for the rest of the night.”
Heat replaces the chill invading my skin from the cool air, and I allow Devlan to lead me away.
As we move through the camp, I think back on the choices I’ve made, and wonder if anything could’ve spared Madity her fate, if there’s a way I can spare Hadley and the others from sharing it. I palm the crest on Madity’s necklace, wanting to feel her arms around me, reassuring me that everything will be all right.
I’m not confident Sebastian or the Force found incriminating evidence against Madity. I wear around my neck the only proof of her involvement. Hanging her was a message directly to me—my punishment.
Regret for many decisions I’ve made weighs heavily on my soul. And yet, despite how hard I strove throughout all of it, my father remains Outside. This has become much bigger than just saving the Taken, though. Sebastian has become a power monger, reigning with a terror I fear even King Hart couldn’t have matched.
Deep down, I know I never could’ve changed what Sebastian was to become. Despite everything, he’s responsible for his own actions, and he’s made his choice. I have to believe I tried my hardest to save him, or else I’ll go mad. I know what has to be done, and I won’t allow him to make me second-guess myself again.
He’s called out the Rebels, exposed us, and I know exactly why.
Sebastian said he refuses to hide himself away as his father did. King Hart, even in death, has planned out his control over his son by using the Rebels as his excuse, claiming they were the reason he lived in fear. Sebastian’s vanity will never allow him to hide away in such a manner.
He wants the threat gone. He desires to rule the realm with a power that will make him a legend, and he can’t do that tucked away in a secret chamber.
My mind releases its burdened thoughts as Devlan guides me toward his tent. Tomorrow, I will have to do battle, to give myself over to the trained fighter inside me.
But this night, I’m his.
THIRTY-EIGHT
Before morning brings the light, I wake Hadley, take her to the Rebel leader’s tent, and introduce her to Fallon and Silas. Fallon decides Hadley will help Silas monitor the Taken Outside, and I thank her for keeping my friend safe from the coming war.
As I drink a cup of stout, Rebel-brewed coffee, Silas shows her how to work the monitors. “You can pan all areas, but only watch a section at a time.” He taps a key. “Hit record for the unwatched sectors, to check later. Make sure nothing goes undetected.”
The screen slowly scans the Rebel camp, and I latch onto the corner of the table and lean in closer. I point to the screen. “Silas, stop. Who’s that?”
He hits another key, and the monitor zooms in. Cecily. She’s here in the camp, and she’s wounded.
Glancing at Hadley, I set down my mug and ask, “You brought the nobles?”
“I brought all those who wanted to escape.” She looks up at me, her mouth set in a determined line. “This courtier found me. That was when I knew my efforts had reached nearly too widely and it was time to go. I didn’t know which nobles would turn us in to the Force.”
Fallon lays her hand on Hadley’s shoulder. “You did the right thing. I believe most of the nobles are siding with the king.” She looks at the screen. “I wonder what made this one decide to leave her lavish home.”
That’s my question exactly, especially since I know Cecily still has feelings for Sebastian. Now I’m concerned Hadley’s escape was too easy, and maybe Sebastian has his own spies among us.
“I’ll be back,” I tell them, and Devlan joins my side before I duck under the tent flap.
He walks with his hand on the hilt of his sword. “Do you think she’s here for him?”
“I’m not sure, but I’m going to find out.” I look up at him. “Let me talk to her alone first.”
Nodding, he moves out of sight before I walk up to her.
Cecily is seated on the pine straw, a fire crackling at her back. “Cecily,” I say, and her eyes snap to me. “Are you all right?”
She stares at me a moment longer, her eyes roaming over my black pants. Her gaze drops, and she cups her arm. “I was attacked.” Her voice breaks.
Seating myself on the ground beside her, I say, “Let me look at it.” She attempts to roll up her dress sleeve, but it’s too tattered. Grunting, she rips it the rest of the way off. “What was it?” I inspect the deep slashes—claw marks. They’re red and swollen.
“I’m not sure,” she says, her eyes on the wound. “It was big and black. It looked like a larger, scarier version of a dog.” She sniffs. “This man saved me. He killed it.”
I nod. “And he brought you? That’s how you came to be here?” I dip my head, trying to find her eyes.
She meets mine. “Nay. I was already on my way here when this happened. After Sebastian threw me out of Court”—she looks away—“I went into town, and overheard a group in a shop talking about a safe haven.” Her eyes, hard and accusing, flick to me. “How did you come to be here?”
Looking to Devlan, I find him at the treeline and motion toward her arm. He turns and goes to find antiseptic and a bandage. I release Cecily’s arm, and say simply, “I escaped.” She lowers her eyes. I’m not sure if she knew I was locked away, but she doesn’t probe. “Sebastian tossed you out of Court.”
“He’s different.” Her voice hitches. “He’s always been mischievous and mean, and I liked that.” She looks at me. “It’s strength. What a strong man should be. But this is…he is different. Something has changed in him.”
I’m not sure I agree with her claim. Not having grown up in Court around Sebastian, I can’t say whether this has always been his true nature. Whether he was simply waiting for his father to give him power so he could become the king, or whether something in him has truly given way to a darker half.
Regardless, it doesn’t change the fact that Sebastian needs to be stopped. “So, how do I believe you’re not here to spy on the Rebels for him?”
Her blue eyes widen, glistening with intense pain. “I love him,” she says. “But I’m not cruel. I would never do what he did—I’d never have hung that maid. She was nice to me.” She looks down. “I’m not evil.” She bites off the word. “Whatever you may think of me.”
“I don’t think that of you, Cecily,” I say, and take her hand. “I always thought Sebastian a fool for not choosing you.”
She lifts her head, and a small smile forms on her thin mouth.
A crash sounds from across the camp, and Cecily and I jerk. Shouting echoes off the pines. My eyes follow a group hurrying toward the Rebel leader’s tent. “Time to go,” I tell her, and help her stand.
Maybe I’m a fool myself for trusting Cecily, but I believe her. I trust that her feelings for Sebastian are true, that he’s now hurt her deeply, and that she has no other place to turn. Even if she is working with him, it won’t matter for long.
We reach the disturbance, where Silas and a brute of a man are fighting in the middle of the gathered crowd. Silas swings at him; the man ducks. Fallon attempts to get between them, but they pay her no attention as they continue to fight. Silas lands a punch.
Fallon jumps on a makeshift platform and yells, “Enough!”
The two finally break apart, and two other men pull Silas and the guy toward the front of the crowd.
How can we fight a war when we’re near destroying ourselves?