Defiance (35 page)

Willow slowly uncurls her arms and says, “I didn’t mean to say that.”

“I know.” He turns away and begins gathering what he’ll need to make a tree-cradle bed for her.

“Quinn.” She hurries to him, wraps an arm around his shoulders.

“You think I don’t know you’re paying the price for my actions?” he asks quietly, and the pain in his voice seems to hit Willow hard. “Every moment of every day I carry the burden for causing you to be an outcast with me.”

Definitely more going on beneath his surface than he wants us to know. I wonder what he did that caused the two of them to be punished like this.

Willow’s lips tremble, and she steps in front of him to make him look at her. “I chose you. Do you hear me, Quinn Runningbrook? You’re all the family I need.”

They walk to the edge of our campsite, talking in low tones. I give up speculating about what kind of crime would cause a Tree Village to cast out two of their own, and run through Worst Case Scenarios for tomorrow instead. In a few moments, Willow disappears up a tree, and Quinn returns, his face shadowed.

“We’ll go no further. Our debt to Jared has been paid.” His eyes seek out Rachel’s and linger. “Be safe.”

I slide my arm around her shoulders and pull her closer to me. “We will.”

“Where will you go?” Rachel asks.

He shrugs. “We’ll find another Tree Village to take us in. Somewhere far from our first home.”

“But the next closest Tree Village is a two-week journey east,” she says, and turns to me. “They could live in Baalboden, couldn’t they? Once the Commander is gone?”

I didn’t realize she’d come to care for Quinn and Willow, and I wish she could let them go. I could lie and say it’s because I can hardly guarantee any stability in Baalboden until after we succeed in restructuring the government, but the truth is I don’t like the interest in Quinn’s eyes when he looks at Rachel.

I can’t tell her that, but I look at Quinn and make sure my expression doesn’t match my words as I say, “Of course they can. But they might not feel comfortable living on the ground.”

Quinn smiles. “We’ll camp here for several days. See how it goes in Baalboden. We can decide what to do at the end of the week.” His eyes are still on Rachel.

She smiles back. “Good. Once the Commander is gone, we’ll see about finding you and Willow a place. There are plenty of trees in Baalboden.”

My smile feels stretched thin as I say, “Thank you for helping Rachel and for assisting me. I won’t forget it.” I stand and shake Quinn’s outstretched hand. His eyes flick toward me, and then he looks once more at Rachel, nods, and backs out of the clearing to take the first night watch.

I bank the fire and sit beside Rachel to talk though our plan one last time. I’ve barely started running scenarios when she interrupts.

“You’re not tall enough to pass as Melkin.”

It’s the same argument she’s been using for hours now.

“I’m tall enough. Plus, only Melkin knew the signal to give.”

“Only Melkin and his
wife
. Who was next to you in the dungeon. You don’t think the Commander might be expecting you to show up like this?”

She has a point, but since the only other recourse is to let her face the Commander herself, I keep arguing.

“It doesn’t matter what he expects. He wants this”—I point to the device lying on a cloth between us—“too much to stay away. By the time he realizes it’s me, he’ll see I have the device and he’ll start negotiating.”

Her laugh is bitter. “He doesn’t negotiate, Logan. He executes.”

“Which is why I’ll be the one taking the risk. Just in case.”

“I can handle it.”

Of course she can. But
I
can’t handle it if it all goes wrong, and I have to watch her die.

“I need you to call the Cursed One for me. I need you to stay out of sight and use Melkin’s staff to call the beast before the Commander takes the device from me.”

“Oh, that’s just perfect. We take revenge on the Commander, and all I get to do is shove a stick into the ground? No. I promised Oliver and Dad I would kill him. I’m not going back on that.”

“And I promised I would always protect you. So—”

“So use Melkin’s stick in time to call the Cursed One before—”

“No!”

“I have to kill him. I have to. It’s the only way I’ll have peace.”

She’s shaking. Maybe we both are. My emotions are running so high I can hardly think straight. I can’t allow Rachel to take the risk, but if I don’t, I’m not sure she’ll ever forgive me.

Best Case Scenario: She evades any treachery on the Commander’s part and remembers which combination of finger pads controls the Cursed One so she can turn the beast against him without dying herself.

Worst Case Scenario: Everything else.

Unless …

“I don’t think the Commander knows what the device looks like.”

“What makes you say that?” she asks.

“Did Melkin know exactly what he was looking for?”

She frowns and shakes her head. “I don’t think so.”

“I can guarantee if the Commander ever had the opportunity to see this thing in person, he’d already own it and the person who’d shown it to him would be dead.”

“Agreed.”

“So, at best, he only has a general idea of what it looks like.”

Her smile looks more like a snarl. “So make a duplicate.”

“And you can hold the real one while you hide. I’ll keep Melkin’s staff so my disguise looks more authentic.”

“And when the Cursed One comes, I’ll kill the Commander.”

“Yes.” I pull her to me so I won’t have to see the vicious fury on her face and hope that by giving her what she so desperately wants, I haven’t destroyed more of the girl I love.

We unstring Rachel’s bow and use the lightweight black wood to mimic the design of the device. I still have copper wires hidden in the seams of my cloak, and after dismantling her Switch to get to the gears inside, I make a passable imitation of the Rowansmark tech. The wires are obvious, and it has gears instead of finger pads, but it looks like a piece of workable tech, and that’s all we need.

We go over the plan, in detail, three more times until Rachel refuses to discuss it again. I don’t push the issue. Pulling her against me, I wrap myself around her and listen to her breathe as the darkness hides the device, the terrible fury in her eyes, and the evidence that this may be our last night together.

Her breathing slows, an even cadence that comforts me. I brush my lips against her ear and whisper promises I’ll die to keep.

D
awn is a faint, gray smudge on the horizon as we reach the ancient oak marking the line between Baalboden’s eastern perimeter and the Wasteland. Logan hunches inside his cloak, his hood pulled forward to cover most of his face. The fake Rowansmark tech is in one hand and Melkin’s staff is in the other.

I stay back several trees, the true device in my cloak pocket and a brilliant blaze of triumphant rage warming me from the inside out.

We’ve gone over the plan, the list of everything Logan worries can go wrong, and both of us are as ready as we can be. We might die. The whole thing might blow up in our faces, and we might fail. But it doesn’t matter. What matters is that we’re here. Standing against him. Committed to delivering justice, no matter what it costs.

Logan turns to look at me, his blue eyes lit with something I now recognize as uniquely mine. “Ready?”

“Yes.”

The torch is embedded in the heart of the tree, far below the tall canopy of branches. He strikes flint at it, and fire blazes immediately, throwing shadows over his face as he waits.

I melt back into the forest a few yards, far enough that I can’t be seen by anyone approaching Logan, but close enough that I can still see and hear what is going on, and climb into a tree. It takes two hours, but we finally see the Commander and the eight surviving members of his Brute Squad stride across the perimeter toward the tree.

It’s too easy. Surely the Commander suspects treachery. He knows Logan escaped. He must wonder if Melkin could really carry out his assignment against me. And yet he walks toward us as if he doesn’t have a care in the world.

The hair on the back of my neck rises, and seconds later, a team of guards slide out of the eastern Wasteland and converge on Logan.

No wonder it took two hours. The Commander needed time for his guards to exit the gate, enter the Wasteland, and circle around behind us. It’s a trap, but we knew it would be. The Commander never meant to keep the one who delivered the package alive. We just never realized there would be
so many
. Logan thought the Brute Squad would be all the Commander deemed necessary to take down the one insignificant person delivering his precious package.

Logan turns, sweeps the ranks of guards behind him with a glance, and tightens his grip on the staff.

We’d planned for Logan to fall back during the confusion of the Cursed One’s arrival, but there are too many guards behind him. He has nowhere to go. He can’t call the Cursed One and survive unless he shimmies up the oak and starts tree-leaping. In our planning, that was a last resort, as there are too many ways that could end in disaster. The moment he diverts his attention to climbing the tree and avoiding the lit torch sticking out of its belly, the Commander could kill him. Any one of the guards could kill him. No, he’ll need to talk his way out. Find a way to use the device for leverage. Maybe admit it’s a fake and get the Commander to leave him alive because he knows where the real one is.

All of those are flimsy excuses for a plan. They won’t work. Any of them. I can’t think of a way out, but surely Logan can. He always can. I strain to see him past the three rows of uniform-clad backs between us.

The Commander reaches him, but stays several feet back. Logan is looking at the ground, but I see the moment he comes up with a plan. His shoulders straighten. He lifts his head, throws back his hood, and looks the Commander in the eye.

Then he slams the staff into the ground.

My fury at the Commander dissolves into terror for Logan. He hasn’t made a new plan. He’s called the Cursed One with almost no chance of escape, and now he’s going to die in front of me.

My fingers shake as I snatch the device out of my cloak pocket.

The Commander laughs, a cruel sound smearing the morning air with malice. “Logan McEntire. I suppose you think I’m surprised to see you instead of Melkin.”

First two buttons together turn the beast east. Bottom two buttons turn it west. I wish my hands would stop trembling.

Logan holds up the fake device. “I brought what you want. But it’s going to cost you.”

The Commander’s smile is full of hate. “No. It’s going to cost
you
.” He waves the guards forward. Swords gleam, an impossibly thick row of sharp silver teeth reaching for Logan. “You’ve outlived your usefulness to me. To all of Baalboden. It’s been nineteen years of waiting for my investment to pay off, and I can’t wait to rid my city of the stench of you.”

I forget the device for a moment as the Commander’s words sink in, and Logan goes pale. What does he mean, he’s been waiting for this? No one knew when Logan was born that one day he’d be in this position. A tremor runs through the earth. I can’t think of the Commander’s words right now. I have bigger problems.

My hands are clammy as I grip the device. Top and bottom buttons send it north. All three send it south.

The ground shakes. A distant roar surges closer. The guards stumble to a halt and look around, fear on their faces.

“You’re going to die.” Logan’s voice rings out clearly.

The Commander’s smile snags on his scar and morphs into a predatory mask. He lunges for Logan, snatches the fake tech from his hands, and backs away. The guards back away as well, their swords raised as if they can protect themselves from what’s coming, but there are still too many of them between Logan and safety.

The ground cracks. The guards run. The Commander laughs. And Logan turns to leap into the oak tree as the Cursed One explodes into the air, black scales clinking together in deafening harmony, his mouth already spewing orange streams of fire.

Clumps of ground, roots, and branches fly through the air, a shower of debris that knocks a few guards flat on their backs. I check for the Commander’s location, and try to breathe through the panic seizing my chest.

North. I need to send the beast north. My mind goes blank for a crucial second, and the creature roars at the oak tree, sending the entire thing up in flames.

“Logan!” I scream, racing along my branch toward where I last saw him.

He’s already leaping clear. The guards behind him have abandoned their positions and are running for their lives. Logan races into the forest, sees me, and yells, “North! Send it north!”

My fingers find the top and bottom buttons before my brain can translate the thought. The beast surges toward the Commander as he flees toward the northern edge of the city’s Wall. Fire leaps from the creature’s mouth. Two members of the Brute Squad are incinerated and then crushed beneath the thing’s monstrous length as it races forward. Now nothing stands between it and the Commander.

Reckless triumph surges through me. We’ve got him. There’s no escape. No way to stop the Cursed One. Logan climbs onto the branch beside me and together we watch, ignoring the screams of the guards as they run into the Wasteland behind us. Ignoring the crackling flames as they eat through the ancient oak tree. We watch and wait for justice.

The Commander stops, holds out the fake tech, and tries to manipulate the gears wired to its surface.

I laugh, but choke on it when the Commander throws the fake device to the ground, rips open his uniform, and pulls out a heavy silver chain with what looks like a severed lizard foot dangling from it, its talons curved into wickedly sharp tips. It resembles a smaller version of the Cursed One’s own limb.

The beast jerks to a stop and snorts, sucking in the air around it as if hunting for something.

“No.” I press the bottom two buttons again. The Cursed One roars, but doesn’t advance. “Why isn’t it attacking?” I press the buttons repeatedly, and the beast coils in on itself, scales clanking. It shakes its head and blasts the ground beneath it with fire.