With Devlan’s arm supporting me, we evade the Eyes of the forest. We creep through the trees as we near the brook. Fireblood waits for us. Her long black mane dangles in the water as she drinks. Devlan leads me to her, and I run my hand along her dark coat. Leaning my head against her, I relish the feel of freedom her presence brings.
I choke out a strained sob, holding my stomach as I try to lessen the pain my trembling brings. “I thought I could…” I trail off, not sure how to explain why I deviated from the mission. I shake my head against Fireblood.
Devlan’s hand cups my face, and he turns me toward him. His thumbs caress my chin, my cheeks, as he looks me over. “She has fire in her blood,” he says, his pale blue eyes glimmering in the moonlight. “And she’s stubborn as hell.”
I sniff back my tears, and force strength into my eyes for him. “Then, is Fireblood to be my new name? Or is there one especially for those who mess up this royally?”
His lips curl into a smile as he touches them softly to mine. He nods, and whispers, “Mine.”
* * *
As we near the Rebel camp, Fireblood comes to a sudden stop when Devlan tightens her reins.
I glance around. “What’s wrong?”
His form goes rigid in my arms. He leans back and silently cues his horse to back away. Twigs snap under Fireblood’s hooves as she retraces her steps. I can feel her hesitancy beneath me. Cautiously, I angle my head around Devlan, and freeze.
Large indigo eyes, reflecting the moon so brightly that they glow, stare back at me. A low growl rumbles from the beast. My arms hug Devlan tighter. “What—”
“Shh,” he says. Fireblood snorts.
The hair of the monster’s dark-gray coat stands up as it lowers itself to the ground, readying for an attack. It’s close to the size of Fireblood, and its legs bulge with muscles under its matted fur.
Dread creeps over me as I stare into its wild eyes, but it’s the mutated wolf’s face that scares me the most. Its long muzzle and pointed ears have no fur. Black skin stretches over its face. Thin lips pull back to reveal razor-sharp teeth tinged with blood.
“Hold on.” Devlan kicks his heels and leans forward, urging Fireblood to charge past the monster.
Fireblood gathers herself, and the beast lunges. I latch my arms around Devlan, holding on as Fireblood gallops off.
As we near the twinkling lights of camp, Devlan
shouts, “Arms!”
A barricade of large cemented blocks, bags of grain and sand, and logs surrounds the Rebel camp. Rebels spring up from the other side of the makeshift wall, wielding bows. Their arrows whiz past us as we head for the barricade’s opening.
Once we clear the barricade, Devlan pulls his horse to a stop. The guy behind us slams the gate. Devlan dismounts. “Don’t move until I get back,” he says before running toward the wall. Grabbing up a bow, he shoots arrows at the monster.
Shakily, I nudge Fireblood to turn and face the fight. It’s chaos. The wolf hurdles back and forth, higher than any animal I’ve ever seen jump, dodging arrows. The arrows that do connect glance off its hide. Finally, one hits its mark—the beast’s soft underbelly. It howls, the sound sending a tremor down my spine.
As the beast tries to retreat back into the woods, the Rebels take up their swords and climb the wall, going after it. The Rebels surround the mutated wolf, their weapons raised, and attack.
The giant jaws of the monster snap at them. Then someone slices its jowl, while another strikes a tendon above one massive paw. Its mouth hangs loosely, and the monster limps away before it falls to the earth.
Devlan stands over it and sinks his sword into its chest. The beast releases one last distorted howl, gurgling out its death rattle.
I’ve been locked away for only a day, and the world has gone mad.
Once Devlan reaches me, he tosses his blood-coated sword to the ground. “Zara,” he says, worry lacing his voice. But he says nothing else, and I know there’s nothing he can say. He wraps his arms around me, and I cling to him as he lowers me off the horse.
As we make our way toward a tent, I glance around at the changed camp. It’s become a battlefield headquarters. Weapons and tables with maps and gear are set up all over, fires burning to light the darkness as Rebels plan tactics and strategies.
Devlan holds back a flap, and I enter the dark tent. He helps me to the cot before striking a match to light a candle and setting it on a small desk. “I need to tend to your wounds.”
He walks over to a canvas bag and takes out a gray tunic. I reach behind my back to unlace the backing of my mangled wedding dress and wince at the pain that small action causes. His hands clasp mine, and he lowers them to my thighs, wrapping his arms around me.
His arms linger, holding me for a moment before he begins to loosen the backing. Pulling the still-intact shoulder of my dress down, he slides the top to my waist. Then he carefully lifts my arms and slips the tunic over my head.
“Lie down.” He gently guides me to recline on the soft blanket, then pulls my dress past my hips and casts it to the corner. “You have no idea how badly I wanted that dress off of you.”