The horse leapt from the dock and into the vessel, skidding as it landed on the slippery wooden deck, throwing Akila off in the fall.
Slightly dazed from the rough landing, Akila rose to his feet and drew his sword.
The priest charged immediately, his sword held high, and he lunged and stabbed with the ferocity of a man who knew his life was at stake.
Akila dashed forward and slashed his blade toward the traitor, slicing him in the face. The man growled, dropped his sword, and whipped out a dagger, flinging it at Akila. But Akila saw it coming and blocked the dagger with his blade.
The priest spun and hurled a basket at Akila, then a wooden crate. Akila hit them away. Next, the priest grabbed a net and tossed it so Akila’s sword hand became wrapped in it, and then he pulled on the net, causing Akila to stumble forward.
Coming at him, the priest picked up his sword and aimed it at Akila’s chest, but Akila wore heavy armor and the man’s sword slid off the metal like butter, causing the priest to stumble forward.
Taking advantage, Akila shook the net from off his arm and stabbed the priest.
He collapsed to the deck, dead.
Akila pulled his blade out of the priest’s limp body and cleaned it on the net before sliding it back in its sheath.
Not wasting a second, he looked to the city walls, and seeing the black sky was turning navy blue, he realized he needed to return to his men, and quick. He sailed the boat back to the dock, set the boat on fire, and rode with all he had toward the eastern entrance.
Just as he arrived, pink graced the sky. Victory was called, and a new banner was placed atop the outer walls of Cumorla.
As bells of freedom tolled through the capital, Akila rode through the city’s streets with his militia, men, women, and children cheering them on.
He looked toward the north and thought of his family members in Delos, still in bondage, and he knew in his heart that freedom was coming for them, too.
For here, for the first time in history, he stood on the first free land in the Empire.
The revolution had begun.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Ceres felt a pang of fear as she realized someone was following her. She quickened her pace on the rocky white pathway, lit by the morning sun, winding her way amidst green lawns and endless rows of flowers, her mind still reeling from her encounter the night before with Thanos. She paused and looked over her shoulder, listening for the footsteps she knew she had just heard.
Yet there was no one in sight.
Ceres froze and listened. She didn’t have time for annoying games. She needed to get to the palace training ground with the weapons in the barrow before practice started, or Thanos would be weaponless.
Who could it be?
Overheated, she glanced up into the sky as a drop of sweat rolled down her forehead. The sun was a hot glowing disk already, and just like the gardens, she was withering. The muscles in her arms and shoulders started to burn, but she couldn’t afford to rest. She was late as it was.
Pushing the heavy handcart, she picked up her pace, and when the footsteps came again, and she spun and saw no one, her irritation increased.
Finally, as she neared the gazebo, the footsteps grew louder, and when she glanced over her shoulder again, this time she spotted Stephania, wearing a red silk dress, a golden wreath in her golden hair.
Of course. The snooping princess.
“Hello, weapon girl,” Stephania said, a slight frown on her face.
Ceres bowed her head and turned back around, eager to get away. But before Ceres could escape, Stephania stepped in front of her, blocking the narrow path.
“How does a girl become something as lowly as a weapon-keeper, I wonder?” Stephania asked, her hand hitting her hips.
“Thanos hired me,” Ceres replied. “Now if you would so kindly – ”
“You will address me as your highness!” Stephania snapped.
Ceres startled and she wanted to give the spoiled girl a piece of her mind, but instead, she kept her head down, reminding herself she wasn’t here to protect her honor, only to fight for the revolution.
“Yes, your highness,” she said.
“It is important you know your place, would you not agree?” Stephania said.
She walked a slow circle around Ceres, eyes probing, hands clasped behind her back, and fancy shoes clicking against the bricks as she strode.
“Since the day you arrived, I have been watching you. I will always be watching you. Do you hear?” Stephania said.
Ceres pinched her lips together so she wouldn’t be tempted to say something disrespectful in return, although it was becoming increasingly difficult to remain silent.
“I see the way you look at Prince Thanos, but you would be foolish to think he would consider you anything but – ”
“I can assure you – ” Ceres started.
Stephania stepped so close to Ceres’s face that their noses were an inch away, and then she whispered through gritted teeth, “Don’t interrupt your superior when she is speaking!”
Ceres squeezed fingers around the cart’s handles, her forearms now burning.
“Prince Thanos may have hired you, but as his future wife, it is my responsibility to ensure his associations are trustworthy,” Stephania said.
Now Ceres couldn’t hold back anymore.
“Thanos told me he wasn’t going to marry you,” she said.
Stephania flinched.
“Thanos is a smart man, but he is no good judge of character. He probably failed to learn what transgressions there might be in your past before he hired you.”
Did Stephania know about how she killed the slaver and his guards? Ceres wondered, now considering she could lose her position at the palace and be punished for it if it came out.
“There are no transgressions in my past,” Ceres said sternly.
Stephania laughed.
“Oh, come now. Everyone has done something in the past they are ashamed of,” she said.
Stephania picked up a sword from the handcart and poked Ceres’s leg with it. Oh, how Ceres wanted to give the rotten princess a lesson in swordsmanship, revealing how inept her clean, dainty, little monarch hands were. But she remained immovable.
“And believe me,” Stephania said as she raised the blade to Ceres’s face, a hair away. “If there is so much as a sliver of a transgression in your past, I will find out, and then I will have you thrown out of the palace, headfirst.”
Stephania tossed the sword onto the ground next to Ceres’s feet, the blade clattering as it landed.
“Thanos is mine, do you hear?” Stephania said. “He has been promised to me by the king and queen and if you get in the way of our marriage, I will personally slit your throat while you are sleeping in my future summer home.”
Stephania shoved Ceres with her shoulder as she walked by, heading toward the palace training grounds.
The second Ceres arrived at the practice arena, she could sense that something was wrong. It wasn’t that Stephania was glowering at her from beneath the willow trees, although their conversation was still swimming through Ceres’s mind, irritating her to no end. It wasn’t that it seemed the day would turn into the hottest one of the year, or that Thanos wasn’t here yet, practicing.
As she rolled the handcart toward their weapon table, her eyes followed Lucious in the middle of the practice arena. He was clutching a bottle of wine in one hand, a sword in the other, and his new weapon-keeper knelt before him with a worried expression, while balancing an apple on his head. The weapon-keeper had several small cuts on his face, and one on his neck, Ceres saw.
“Stay…very…still,” Lucious said, closing his eyes while pointing the tip of his sword toward the weapon-keeper’s head.
The other royal warriors and their weapon-keepers stood watching, rolling their eyes, arms folded across chests.