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?
Fallon presses the loose strands of hair back toward her bun. Then she looks out over the Rebels and citizens. “How long do you think we have before the Force and the king’s knights storm this camp?”
Glancing around, I watch as some heads hang low. Others, in the back of the gathered group, slink farther away. Women wrap their arms around their children. These are not fighters. They’re citizens of a lost era, only wishing to live out their lives in peace.