Ruined (18 page)

EM WALKED BEHIND
Koldo and Iria as they trekked through the jungle. It had been two days since Aren had found them, and she felt better with her friend next to her. He'd pointed out Koldo's slight limp and bloodied left leg yesterday and she'd been watching it ever since, getting a handle on how he moved in case she needed to defend herself.

They were all silent as the morning stretched into afternoon, and Em couldn't help but think of Damian. He was the talkative one, the one Aren and Em would have to shush and remind that they were trying to be quiet to avoid hunters. The weight of his absence mixed with her fear for Cas, and every step she took felt heavy.

“Should I carry you?” Aren asked, cocking an eyebrow when she fell behind again.

“Sorry.” She took a couple of quick steps to catch up with him. “I miss Damian,” she said, leaving out the second part of her sadness.

Aren kicked a pebble out of his way. “Me too.”

“Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if we'd gone into hiding instead of doing all this,” she said, letting herself picture it for a moment. “Like if we'd just found a place to be safe and took some people with us. If I'd married Damian and tried to forget everything that had happened.”

Aren laughed, and she turned to him in surprise. He rolled his eyes at her.

“You never would have married Damian, Em.”

“I . . . I don't know. Maybe it could have happened, if everything had calmed down.”

Aren shook his head. “If you'd felt that way about him, it wouldn't have mattered how crazy our lives were. You managed to develop some pretty strong feelings for Cas despite terrible circumstances.” He lifted an eyebrow, and she looked away. He had a point.

“He wasn't upset about it,” Aren continued. “Disappointed, sure. But he wasn't waiting or hoping or anything.”

She swallowed, crossing her arms over her chest.

“And you will never be the type to hide,” Aren said. “Everyone else wanted to hide, and you insisted on fighting. I admire you for it.”

“Don't admire me.” She'd taken the king's tactics and made them her own. While trying to defeat him she had become him, and that seemed far worse than anything she'd ever imagined.

Aren bumped his shoulder against hers. “Too late.”

Cas's stomach rumbled for food, and his mouth was so dry that he couldn't think of much else. The heat inland was almost unbearable, and he wondered why people would live in the jungle when they could enjoy an ocean breeze near the shore.

He was entirely alone, and had been for a full day, but the sounds of the jungle seemed far too loud. He'd never realized how accustomed he was to the sounds of the castle—the hum of the staff moving about, the quiet voices that echoed through the halls, the way the wind would gently rattle his window. Even in the wagon he'd been more comfortable, surrounded by the voices he'd known all his life.

But out here, without another soul anywhere near, the sounds were deafening. The crickets were singing a constant, manic rhythm, and a frog would croak every now and then, as if trying to accompany them. The noise only increased his panic about being completely alone.

He wiped the back of his arm across his forehead and batted a giant green leaf away from his face. He had to be close to the river by now. He couldn't hear it yet, but he'd headed west after leaving the wagon. Unless he'd drifted off course, he'd be there at any moment.

He trudged forward. His feet had begun to ache, but it was
nothing compared to the thirst, and he forced his legs to move faster, until he finally heard the sounds of the water lapping against the shore.

The homes appeared as soon as he was able to see the river, and he stopped, startled that anyone lived out here. He'd known a large number of the Lera people lived in the jungle, but he'd never actually seen them.

The homes directly on the river were built on rafts, floating right on the shore. The homes a bit farther up the shore were built high off the ground, pieces of wood taller than him elevating the homes so they were safe from floods. The roofs were made of woven palms, and some of the homes didn't have walls. They wouldn't have needed them, since it was never cold this far inland and they probably welcomed the frequent rain.

He looked from the rushing water to the homes, reluctant to leave the safety of the trees. A woman emerged from one of the raft homes, wearing clothes that must have been brought in from a Lera city. Her skirt was knee-length and bright red, and she wore a white sleeveless shirt. The clothes were old and worn, and she must have had them for a long time.

Another woman followed her, outfitted in a skirt made of dried grass and only a scrap of fabric to cover her chest. They both headed away from Cas.

A whispered voice sounded from behind him. Cas's body went cold. He slowly looked over his shoulder.

A spear was pointed right between his eyes.

He turned, raising his hands in surrender. Two men stood in
front of him. One was about Cas's age, the other much older. The young man had a sword dangling from his hand, letting the older man handle the spear that was pointed at Cas.

“I was just going to the river,” Cas said. “For water.”

The young man stepped closer to him, moving toward Cas so quietly that it became very obvious how these two had managed to sneak up on him so easily. He wore pants that ended above his knees, and a stained gray shirt. The older man wore the same kind of pants but no shirt at all.

The old man jabbed him in the chest with the spear and Cas gasped, stumbling backward. He'd poked Cas just hard enough to break the skin, and a dot of red started to appear over the castle insignia.

“You're from the castle,” the man said accusingly. Cas flashed back to the warriors saying they were going to let the locals know there was a price on the prince's head.

“I—I stole it.” His lie came out hesitantly. “The person wearing it was dead, so I took it. The Olso warriors attacked the castle.”

“Did the warriors kill the people in the castle?” The older man was so hopeful suddenly that Cas had to beat down a swell of rage. The image of his father's white shirt turning red flashed through his memory.

“Some of them,” he said quietly.

“Good.” The man nodded, as if this satisfied him.

“You can have some water,” the young man said, sheathing his sword. “Then you'll leave.”

Cas tried to appear grateful. The old man ran ahead, skipping over rocks until he reached the shore. The other man walked behind Cas, a little too close for comfort.

The old man walked to a large bucket and grabbed a cup hanging from the side. He scooped it inside, then held it out to Cas. “It's clean.”

Cas took a quick, covert sniff of the water before tipping it to his mouth. It was clean, though it had an earthy taste, with a hint of fish. He gulped it down anyway, wiping a hand across his mouth when he was done. The man scooped out another cup for him, looking at Cas like he was an idiot as he drained that one as well.

“You should have stayed in the city,” the man said.

“Olso has taken over the city.” Cas handed him the cup. “They could come here. You should be careful.”

The man laughed. “Olso warriors have no problem with us.”

Cas just shrugged. “Thank you for the water.”

The man pointed in the direction Cas had come from. “Royal City is back that way.”

Cas didn't tell him he wasn't going to Royal City. Let them think he was.

“The others aren't coming this way, are they?” the young man asked.

“What others?” Cas asked.

He pointed into the jungle, but Cas saw nothing. “I've seen others. Everyone is going south.”

Perhaps he'd seen the Lera troops headed to the Southern Mountains. Cas felt a burst of hope. If he was able to find them, he'd be safe again. He'd have a horse and a sword and an army to take back the castle.

“I'm sure they won't bother you,” he said, even though he had no idea. He thanked the men again, turning to walk away. A child stood directly in front of him, and he stopped short, giving her a weak smile. She stuck her thumbs in her ears, shot her tongue out, and made a face at him. She shrieked with delight as she ran away, like she'd waited most of her life to do that.

Cas cast a glance over his shoulder as he started walking again. The men followed him with their eyes, their mouths set in hard lines. He picked up his pace, telling himself it was because he hoped to find the Lera soldiers, not because he was afraid of two strange men.

He began to search for signs of horses or anything that indicated someone had come this way. He spotted a footprint here and there, though that could have been from the people he'd just met. But the footprints seemed to be headed south, so he followed them.

A rustling sound behind him almost made him turn, but he caught himself just in time. He took a careful step forward, trying not to let his shoulders tense. If someone was watching him, he didn't want them to know he was aware of their presence.

He pushed a branch out of his face, using the opportunity to peek over his shoulder.

Something slammed into him. He hit the ground.

The young man grabbed the back of his shirt and yanked Cas to his feet.

The old man stood in front of him, spear aimed directly at Cas's neck. He drew the spear back, preparing to plunge it straight into Cas's flesh.

Cas grabbed onto the arm holding him, using the anchor to lift his legs off the ground. Cas launched his feet into the man's chest. The man stumbled backward, tripping over a vine and hitting the ground.

The arm around him loosened as he returned his feet to the ground. Cas lifted his elbow and slammed it into the young man's side. He grunted, and Cas spun out of his grasp.

The old man lunged at him with the spear, and Cas dove out of the way. The man swung the spear wildly, and Cas quickly ducked. He popped right back up, grabbing hold of the wooden handle of the spear as it came at his head again. He yanked it out of the man's hands.

He took a step back, away from the man's flailing hands. He used both hands to sink the sharp tip of the spear into the man's neck.

The old man made a strange gasping sound as he fell, the blood draining down his bare chest.

The young man had disappeared, and Cas whirled around, frantically scanning the area. The man was standing on a fallen tree right behind Cas, sword poised. He jumped before Cas could react.

Cas darted out of the way, but not before the blade sliced across his bad shoulder. He stumbled as he felt blood start to trickle down his arm.

The young man grabbed him by the hair, and Cas tried to pull away, yelling as the pain shot through his scalp. He dropped to his knees. The young man stepped in front of him. Cas felt the metal of a blade against his skin, and he squeezed his eyes shut.

TWO WARRIORS AND
four horses waited near the riverbank. Iria and Koldo greeted the two men, but Em hung back with Aren, surveying their weapons and supplies. The two new warriors were fresh and clean next to the four travelers—their red-and-white coats were crisp and their faces weren't drawn and exhausted. They both had swords, and probably a knife or two hidden somewhere.

“This must be the famous Emelina Flores,” a warrior with a mustache said, striding over to her. “I'm Miguel.”

“Em.” She jerked her head to her friend. “Aren.”

“Nice to meet you both.” He gestured at his warrior buddy. “This is Francisco. I'm glad we found you. We were starting to think you weren't coming.”

“We've had to travel on foot,” Iria said.

“Did you come from the castle?” Em asked hurriedly. “What happened?”

Matching grins spread across Miguel's and Francisco's faces. “The castle is ours. The king is dead.”

Relief and dread smacked against her all at once.

“The rest of the royal family has gone missing,” Miguel continued, and she almost collapsed from relief. “We assume they're headed for Fort Victorra, so we'll take care of that when we arrive. We've informed some of the locals out here that there is a sizable reward for killing any member of the royal family.”

Iria's eyes flicked briefly to Em before she smiled at the warriors. “Wonderful. Should we keep going then? Aren and Em, you'll need to share a horse.”

The sounds of a man grunting echoed through the trees. Em whirled around, searching for the source of the noise.

She could hear rustling and heavy breathing, followed by a yell. A fight, maybe. Everyone remained still. She wrapped her fingers around her sword.

A flash of blue streaked across her vision and disappeared from view. She stepped to the side, craning her neck to see around the trees.

Her heart stopped.

It was Cas, on his knees with a blade to his throat. A man with a sword set his mouth in a determined line, preparing to slice Cas's neck.

She was moving before she realized she was going to him,
ignoring the shouts from behind her.

Cas was out of sight suddenly, and for a terrible moment she thought the man had succeeded in killing him. But he rolled away from the blade and jumped up, moving faster than she'd ever seen. And she'd thought he was giving it his all when they sparred.

She leaped over a vine, her fingers sweaty around the hilt of her sword. Cas slammed his body against the man, knocking them both to the ground.

Cas scrambled to his feet. He had the sword. She skidded to a stop a few paces from him just in time to see him plunge the sword into the man's chest.

He whirled around, bloody sword still poised in front of him. Their eyes met.

He was dirty and his pants were smeared with something dark—probably blood. He wore a blue staff shirt that was only half buttoned and covered in grime. Deep, dark circles marred the flesh under his eyes. He'd aged three years instead of three days.

His face twisted, and she caught a full glimpse of just how much he hated her. He hated her with everything he had, hated her with more intensity than he'd ever felt about anything.

He lunged at her, and she barely raised her sword in time to block his attack. The sound of their blades crashing together echoed through the forest, and her heart began to beat so fast she felt sick.

“Cas—” She gulped back the words as he dove at her again.
He nicked her neck with the blade and she scurried back, away from him.

He followed, shoving his sword dangerously close to her chest. She blocked it and lifted her sword against the next attack.

He slammed his foot into her knee. Her legs buckled and she hit the ground, keeping a tight grip on her sword. She started to scramble to her feet.

Cas had his blade aimed at her neck.

She sucked in a breath. He was gasping for air, his expression twisted and furious. He wasn't just angry; he was going to kill her.

She considered saying she was sorry, but she wasn't sure she wanted those to be the last words she ever said.

The blade in front of her face shook a tiny bit, and she looked from it to Cas. He pressed his lips together, the saddest defeated expression crossing his face.

He started to lower the blade.

Every part of her body crumpled in relief. She opened her mouth, desperately trying to think of what to say that wouldn't make him change his mind and kill her immediately.

“I—”

Her words ended in a gasp as an arrow whizzed past her face. Cas stumbled backward as it sank into his flesh.