Ruined

  Flames burst from the object, and the guards circled around it, stomping it out with their feet.

  “Cas!” his mother yelled. He realized suddenly that her hand had slipped out of his, and he turned to find her being pushed and shoved toward the kitchen.

  “Go!” he yelled. “I’m right behind you!”

  Swords crashed together somewhere outside, and Cas let Galo shove him in the direction of the kitchen. He saw his mother’s head disappear around the corner, and only a moment later, a swarm of people in white and red rushed through the doors.

  Olso warriors.

  Cas scrambled backward, turning and breaking into a run with Galo beside him. Another flaming ball rocketed through the window, and Cas hit the floor, covering his head with his hands. Galo knelt down next to him, using his body to shield Cas.

  Cas felt the heat of the flames as the ball hit far too close to them. He ducked away, straightening to find Galo with his left arm on fire.

  Galo ripped off his jacket and stomped out the flames.

  Cas felt a hand on his arm, and he whirled around to find his father next to him. He had to beat back the urge to throw his arms around his father’s neck like he was five years old again.

  His father handed Cas a sword. It was heavier than he was used to, the red band around the hilt identifying it as a warrior sword. His father’s blade had blood smeared across it.

  Cas took off behind the king, looking over his shoulder to find the Olso warriors spilling out of the kitchen. Screams echoed through the halls, and he could only pray that his mother had made it out and the warriors hadn’t noticed the passageway.

  Galo lifted his sword as two warriors rushed at him. “Go!” he yelled over his shoulder.

  Cas ran behind his father, almost crashing into him when he came to an abrupt stop as they rounded a corner. Three warriors stood in front of them. Light flickered across their faces, and Cas started as he recognized one of them. Benito. The warrior’s eyebrows were drawn together, his lip curling as he charged them.

  “Here!” another warrior yelled down the hallway as he lunged at the king. “I’ve got the king and the prince!”

  Cas lifted his sword, jumping back as Benito swung at him. The blade barely missed his neck, and he realized with a flash of horror that the warriors had been ordered to kill them. They wouldn’t be captured or brought anywhere for negotiations.

  Panic vibrated through his every limb, and when he swung his sword, a strangled grunt accompanied the effort. Benito’s sword met his.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Cas saw one of the warriors fall, and his father engaged the other. He sidestepped as Benito lunged at him. The warrior lost his balance, stumbling forward. Cas quickly turned, slamming his boot into the back of Benito’s legs. The warrior hit the ground on his knees and scrambled against the stone. Cas drove his blade into Benito’s chest.

  The warrior made a horrible gurgling sound, the sword sliding out of his stomach as he toppled to the ground. Blood dripped off the metal and Cas tried to shake it off, his stomach rising into his throat. He only succeeded in splattering blood across the blue wall.

  A hand grabbed his arm, and he jumped, almost hitting the king with his sword as he whirled around. The two other warriors were dead on the ground, and his father gave him a look of approval as he glanced at Benito.

  Someone nearby started shouting, and his father tugged on his arm. Cas had to jump over a dead body as they ran down the hallway. His breath started to come out in panicked puffs, and he transferred his sword to his left hand, wiping his sweaty palm on his pants.

  Flames licked up the walls at the far end of the hallway, and his father turned, pushing open the door to a sitting room.

  “The window,” he said, gesturing for Cas to go ahead of him.

  Cas ran into the dark room and to the large window, unhooking the latch and pushing it open. A gust of smoky air blew across Cas’s face.

  “Where did they go?” a voice yelled.

  He whirled around just in time to see a warrior running into the room, making a mad dash for the king. His father was ready, sword lifted. “Go!” he yelled.

  Cas ignored him, lunging at the warrior instead. The knife in the man’s left hand flashed across his vision, and he opened his mouth to yell a warning to his father.

  The warrior drove the knife into his father’s chest.

  The king gasped, his sword clattering to the floor. The warrior gave the knife a shove. The king toppled over, hitting the floor with a thud.

  Cas froze. Red spread across his father’s shirt, but Cas was sure he wasn’t going to die. He couldn’t.

  The warrior darted toward Cas, and his brain snapped to attention. He surged forward, surprising the warrior, and his blade immediately nicked the warrior’s arm. The man sprang out of the way, and then lunged for Cas.

  Cas blocked his attack, taking two quick steps back and darting around the warrior. He jabbed his blade straight into the man’s side. The warrior gasped as Cas yanked it out of his flesh.

  He sliced the blade across the warrior’s neck.

  Cas turned away as the man fell. The king was sprawled out on his back on the floor, his white shirt entirely red.

  Cas dropped down on his knees, his body cold and shaking. Would he be able to pull his father through the window? Maybe Cas could put him on his back.

  His father’s eyes were drifting open and closed, his head lolling to one side. His lips parted, but only a weird squeaking noise came out. His chest stopped moving.

  Cas’s hands were on his father’s chest, and they were red with his blood now, but he’d lost feeling in them. Cas’s whole body seemed to have departed, actually.

  He realized suddenly he was whispering his father’s name over and over, but it didn’t seem to be doing anything to wake him up.

  He wasn’t waking up.

  His father was dead.

  “Put the castle staff in the wagon!” The yell from behind him made Cas jump, and he quickly moved his hands off his father’s chest as feeling returned to them.

  “Find the prince!” the voice yelled. “Kill him on sight.”

  Cas stumbled as he got to his feet. The sounds of boots thumping and voices yelling echoed all through the castle. He was surrounded.

  He wiped his bloody hands on his black pants and darted to the window, sparing a glance at the dead warrior on the ground. He had to resist the urge to drive his sword into the dead man’s chest. The blood seeping from his neck and pooling on the floor didn’t seem like enough punishment.

  He peered around the windowsill. Smoke curled up into the night sky in the distance, near the center of town, and his heart jumped into his throat. Were they killing innocent people? Were they going to burn the whole city to the ground?

  Was he the one who was going to have to decide how to retaliate, now that his father was dead?

  He pushed the thought out of his mind. Now was not the time to panic about the fact that he’d just become the king. He wouldn’t be ruling anything if they caught him.

  He looked left, to the front of the castle, and saw two warriors standing at the corner, their backs to him. He squinted to the right, at the dark wall that led to the gardens. He couldn’t see anyone in that direction, but there was a lot of noise very nearby. Light spilled out onto the grass, and he suspected there were quite a few warriors in the gardens.

  He eased his foot out the window, his sword still gripped in one hand. He didn’t turn back to his father. Somehow he knew that if he turned around now, that was the image that would stay burned into his brain forever.

  His feet hit the ground with a soft thud, and he crouched down next to the wall, stilling for a moment as he made sure no one had caught his movement.

  He had three choices: make a run for it, which was likely to draw attention; try to sneak out the front gate, which was near impossible; or try to make it to through the gardens to the tree in back and attempt to jump over the wall. The latter was proba
bly his best choice. He suspected there were more warriors in that direction, but that might work in his favor. He’d be harder to spot in the chaos.

  He stayed low to the ground as he ran next to the castle wall.

  Kill him on sight. The words rolled through his brain again, and he looked down at his clothes. His shirt was gray, without any royal insignia on it. Many of the Olso warriors had never met him, but they must have seen drawings of him.

  He leaned down, grabbing some dirt and rubbing it across his cheeks. He ruffled his hair as well, pulling a few strands down into his eyes. It wasn’t the best disguise, but perhaps they wouldn’t recognize him right away.

  He continued along the wall until he made it to the rear of the castle. He peered around the corner.

  Horses led a wagon into the gardens. The wagon was a completely sealed wooden box on wheels, usually used to transport prisoners. The warriors must have stolen it.

  Some of the castle staff were lined up to get in the wagon. Where were the warriors taking them?

  He glanced out at the gardens. At least fifty Olso warriors milled around. Some ran back and forth, clearly in search of something.

  “The king is dead!” someone yelled from the back door. “No sign of the prince.”

  A hand clapped over his mouth suddenly, and Cas’s body jerked. He started to twist from the tight grip the man had on him.

  “Your Highness,” the voice whispered, “don’t panic.”

  The hand disappeared from his mouth and Cas turned. A boy a few years younger than Cas stood in front of him. He had a scar across one eyebrow and looked vaguely familiar. He worked in the kitchen, maybe.

  “I’m sorry I did that,” the boy said, his eyes round with fear. “I didn’t want you to make any noise and—”

  Cas waved his hand for him to be quiet. “It’s fine.”

  The boy started unbuttoning his blue shirt. “Take off your shirt and give it to me, Your Highness. If we trade and you get caught, they’ll think you’re part of the staff. They’re putting all the staff in that wagon.”

  “Oh.” Cas blinked at him before reaching to unbutton his own shirt. “Thank you, that’s very smart.” His hands stilled as something occurred to him. “Will they think you’re me, if you’re wearing my shirt? Some of the warriors inside saw me.”

  The boy started to laugh, then quickly stifled the sound “No, Your Highness. I don’t think there’s any danger of them mistaking me for you.”

  The boy was tall and broad, his blond hair brushing his collar. He had a long nose and a pointed chin, and Cas realized he was right. The warriors must have had a vague idea of what Cas looked like, and this boy in no way resembled him.

  He pulled the boy’s shirt on. The sleeves were a little short and it was a bit tight, but it would do. “What’s your name?” he asked.

  “Felipe.”

  “Thank you, Felipe.” A flash of red caught his eye. Behind the boy, an Olso warrior was coming around the corner of the castle, his head turned to call something over his shoulder.

  Cas grabbed Felipe’s arm and dashed to the left, his sights set on the bushes only a few paces in front of them. He dove behind one, crouching down next to Felipe. The Olso warrior was joined by three others, and Cas held his breath as their boots crunched against the grass.

  He gripped his sword with two fingers and went down on his hands and knees, crawling into the gardens. Felipe followed him. The row of bushes extended only a bit farther in front of him; then it was open space until he made it to the hedges. He would have a hard time making it through without someone seeing him.

  “I’ll create a distraction so it’s easier for you,” Felipe whispered behind him.

  Cas wanted to argue, but the boy had a determined look on his face, like he’d already decided. He nodded.

  Felipe shot to his feet and ran in the opposite direction.

  “There!” a woman yelled. “There’s someone behind that bush!”

  Cas waited until Felipe was halfway to the front of the castle before he took off. The warriors were all occupied running after him, and if he could just make it a few more steps—

  He was yanked back by his shirt suddenly, the collar straining against his neck so hard he choked. His feet came off the ground. A boot slammed into the back of his legs. His sword sprang out of his hand and bounced out of reach.

  He hit the grass hard, gasping for air and taking in some dirt as well.

  “Get up,” a man’s voice spat.

  Cas slowly got to his knees, and then his feet. His heart thudded in his chest, and he was intensely aware of the sword the warrior had in his hand. It was half lifted in warning.

  The man gave him another shove with his boot, almost knocking Cas to the ground again. “In the wagon with the rest.”

  Cas did as he was told, the warrior following close behind.

  “Two more castle staff,” the warrior said. Out of the corner of his eye, Cas saw Felipe being dragged across the grass by a warrior.

  A female warrior stood at the back of the wagon, and she jerked her thumb for them to get in. “Any sign of the prince?” she asked the other warrior. Cas ducked his chin into his chest.

  “No.”

  “Start spreading the word to the locals that there’s a significant reward for finding him. Dead or alive,” the female warrior said. “Preferably dead.”

  Cas dared a glance inside the wagon and saw about thirty members of the castle staff loaded inside. They were a mix of young and old, cooks and maids he’d seen only in passing. He even spotted two guards. A few eyes widened in recognition.

  He took a step inside, swallowing as he realized any of them could give him up, if they wanted.

  But everyone was silent as he stepped into the wagon. Felipe followed behind him. Cas felt gentle tugs on his left arm, and he turned to see the staff making a hole in back for him to sit. He slumped down, pulling his knees to his chest, and the staff immediately filled in the space around him, hiding him from view.

  “Are you hurt?” an older woman he vaguely recognized whispered. Daniela. She’d worked in the castle gardens for as long as he could remember. She grabbed his bloody hands.

  He shook his head. “No. It’s—it’s not mine.” He tried wiping his hands on his pants again, but the blood had started to dry and it didn’t budge. He noticed he was shaking, as were most of the people sitting around him. They were staring at him with tight, scared faces, and he quickly stuffed his hands beneath him.

  “It will be all right,” he said quietly. His voice shook, betraying the fact that he knew that was an outrageous lie. “They have taken the castle, but they have not taken Lera.” That one wasn’t so much a lie as a hopeful declaration, since he had no way of knowing. What if Olso was already in the Southern Mountains? What if they’d defeated all the troops headed there? His mother and Jovita would head straight for the mountains as soon as they escaped.

  If they escaped.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  AT NIGHT, EM thought of Cas.

  And also in the mornings, afternoons, and evenings. But especially at night.

  Two days had passed since their escape. Em watched as the sun disappeared completely behind the trees and the world fell into darkness. They’d been walking since early that morning, and her feet ached as she slid down a tree trunk.

  The jungle was noisy around her, even though everyone in their party was quiet and on constant alert. The jungle was an absolute gift—loud and crowded, with chirping bugs and squawking birds competing for space with vines, trees, and leaves as big as her face. The forests of Vallos and Ruina were different. Quiet, sparse, harder to hide in.

  Iria passed her a small piece of dried meat, and she took it with a soft “Thank you.”

  She tore off a piece of meat with her teeth, looking down at the mess that used to be her dress. The blue fabric was now completely brown at the hem, and smudges of dirt dotted the skirt. There was even a smear of blood, from where she’d caught the sharp e
dge of a tree branch on her arm and wiped it on her skirt.

  She’d fashioned a belt out of a vine and stuck her sword through it, and she found herself always watching the warriors’ movements, waiting to see if they were still partners now that they were safely away from the Lera castle. Two warriors against one tired, useless Ruined. Not her best odds.

  “Who’s taking first watch?” Koldo asked, planting his hands on his hips as he surveyed the jungle.

  “I will,” Em said, even though she was exhausted. She didn’t want to sleep. Every time she closed her eyes she saw Cas’s face. When she drifted off for even a few minutes, the guilty ache in her chest would jerk her awake, and everything she’d done would come rushing back.

  “You barely slept at all last night,” Iria said.

  Em shrugged, dropping her gaze to the ground.

  “Koldo, you want to refill the canteens?” Iria asked.

  “Sure,” Koldo said, taking the hint and disappearing in the direction of a nearby stream.

  Iria watched him go, the sound of his footsteps fading into the distance. “I know that you developed feelings for Cas and it’s eating you up that he’s going to die, but don’t lose sight of why you did this,” she said quietly. “Your people were headed for extinction, and you’re the only one who stepped in to do something about it. You did what you had to do.”

  “I did what I chose to do.”

  “You chose right.”

  “Yes, you did,” a voice said.

  Iria scrambled to her feet, pulling out her sword. Aren stepped out from behind a tree, hands raised in surrender. Em jumped up and threw her arms around him.

  Iria let out a relieved sigh. “I didn’t hear you coming.”

  Em grasped both his arms. “Are you injured? Did the Lera soldiers hunt you down?”

  He smirked. “They tried.” He glanced around. “No horses? Are we traveling all the way to Vallos on foot?”

  “Warriors will meet us with horses day after tomorrow,” Iria said. “If all is going well, they should be launching their attack right about now.” She looked up at the sky. “We’ve traveled too far to hear it, unfortunately.”