The Traitor's Game

  To Jeff,

  Every dream for my life includes you.

  Contents

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Epigraph

  Chapter One: Kestra

  Chapter Two: Kestra

  Chapter Three: Kestra

  Chapter Four: Kestra

  Chapter Five: Simon

  Chapter Six: Kestra

  Chapter Seven: Simon

  Chapter Eight: Simon

  Chapter Nine: Kestra

  Chapter Ten: Simon

  Chapter Eleven: Kestra

  Chapter Twelve: Simon

  Chapter Thirteen: Kestra

  Chapter Fourteen: Kestra

  Chapter Fifteen: Simon

  Chapter Sixteen: Kestra

  Chapter Seventeen: Kestra

  Chapter Eighteen: Simon

  Chapter Nineteen: Kestra

  Chapter Twenty: Kestra

  Chapter Twenty-One: Kestra

  Chapter Twenty-Two: Kestra

  Chapter Twenty-Three: Simon

  Chapter Twenty-Four: Simon

  Chapter Twenty-Five: Kestra

  Chapter Twenty-Six: Kestra

  Chapter Twenty-Seven: Kestra

  Chapter Twenty-Eight: Kestra

  Chapter Twenty-Nine: Simon

  Chapter Thirty: Kestra

  Chapter Thirty-One: Kestra

  Chapter Thirty-Two: Simon

  Chapter Thirty-Three: Kestra

  Chapter Thirty-Four: Kestra

  Chapter Thirty-Five: Simon

  Chapter Thirty-Six: Simon

  Chapter Thirty-Seven: Kestra

  Chapter Thirty-Eight: Kestra

  Chapter Thirty-Nine: Simon

  Chapter Forty: Kestra

  Chapter Forty-One: Simon

  Chapter Forty-Two: Kestra

  Chapter Forty-Three: Kestra

  Chapter Forty-Four: Kestra

  Chapter Forty-Five: Kestra

  Chapter Forty-Six: Simon

  Chapter Forty-Seven: Kestra

  Chapter Forty-Eight: Simon

  Teaser to Book Two of The Traitor's Game

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by Jennifer A. Nielsen

  Copyright

  In a traitor's game, there are no winners.

  Only those left standing at the end.

  Cheat or be cheated.

  Crush or be crushed.

  Play ... or be killed.

  The next move is mine.

  The truth of where I'd been for the past three years wasn't what anyone believed.

  It wasn't exile, as my father claimed. The Lava Fields were barren and unforgiving, and charming in the way that discovering a thorn with one's bare foot might be charming. But I'd gladly choose to live there before sacrificing my happiness for my father's political demands.

  Nor was I hiding, as most people in my country suspected. While it was true that I'd been sent to the Fields on the same day I escaped a kidnapping, I had Darrow to protect me now. Thanks to him, I was stronger than before.

  And I wasn't away learning to become a proper young lady. If anything, the opposite was true. My handmaiden, Celia, had tried her best, encouraging me to put down the swords and disk bows Darrow liked to train me with and pick up a hairbrush or sewing needle instead. But so far, I'd done more damage to my fingers with the needles than had ever been done to me by the edge of a blade.

  The truth about the Lava Fields was that very few people knew my whereabouts, making it the first place I'd ever felt truly free. Free to explore the knifelike maze of sharp, black rocks. Free to sit in the stone cottage near Unknown Lake and eat at the rickety wooden table with Darrow, Cook, and Celia. Free to run and sing and let my hair tangle in the wind.

  Free, that is, until last night, when a garrison of six Dominion soldiers had unexpectedly arrived with a summons from my father to return home to Woodcourt.

  Why? Nothing on my end had changed, and he would certainly never back down. Yet here I was tonight, boxed inside a cramped security carriage, unable to block out the incessant noise of gravel grinding beneath our track wheels. I felt trapped.

  No, I was trapped, a thought that choked my breath. Everything had been fine in the Lava Fields. Aside from the occasional rumblings of an ancient volcano and a relentless odor of sulfur, we'd enjoyed a simple life there, one with few rules and even fewer people to tell me how I'd disappointed them that day. Why should I have to go home?

  "Are you all right, Kestra? You look worried." Sitting across from me in the carriage, Celia had spent the past hour knotting and unknotting her fingers. She was nervous, which was no great surprise. So was I. My first meeting with my father in three years could end poorly.

  Celia was a wisp of cloud, a crocus flower in bloom, far too delicate for a life in my service. Her hair was much lighter than mine, and naturally curly, which gave me a fierce amount of jealousy, though because I belonged to the Dallisor family, I could never admit to feeling inferior.

  "I'm fine," I told Celia. "I just want this ride to end." How long had we been stuck inside this carriage? Hours at least, though it wouldn't surprise me if the world had shifted into a new century since we'd left the cottage. Cook was probably an old woman by now. Or an older woman.

  "Another hour, and we'll reach the inn." Celia seemed to believe if she always spoke with patience, the trait would inevitably rub off on me. I doubted that.

  To her credit, although she was only two years older, Celia had been patient with me for a year, a record for any lady in my service. My former lady-in-waiting, Ibbi, had lasted less than three months. Ibbi had been prone to "frantic episodes" that Darrow insisted were brought on by the suffocating Lava Fields, and not by my difficult behavior. I rather doubted that too. Her last episode came on after I stitched her into her bed one night as she slept. It wasn't my fault. I was bored.

  That was nothing compared to my boredom now, and an aching restlessness to escape this coffin on wheels. As a protection against attacks, security carriages had metal sides, a single narrow window with thick glass, and steel track wheels that could crush anything in its path, preferably the attacker. A clearstone hung in one corner of our carriage, though if I warmed it with my hands to freshen the glow, I'd only be reminded again of how tight our space was.

  This carriage was also a symbol for what my life might become now. Maybe everything I knew and wanted--everything I was--would soon be compacted into some safe, proper world.

  Unbearable.

  Darrow would understand.

  With a grin my poor handmaiden had too often seen before, I sat forward, unbolted the door, and reached for the handle.

  "My lady, the carriage is moving." No details escaped Celia's sharp attention.

  "Then I'd better not fall." I pushed open the heavy metal door and a crisp evening wind awakened my senses. It smelled like rain, though the dirt road beneath us was dry. A half-moon did little to cut through the dark night, but tall trees lined the road, and I thought I heard a river nearby. That could put us practically anywhere between the edge of the Lava Fields and the outskirts of Highwyn.

  Celia put a hand on my arm. "The garrison won't like this--"

  "Well, I don't like them either." The garrison served Endrick, our Lord of the Dominion, because even the title of king was not grand enough for him. Part of service to Lord Endrick required that a piece of the soldier's heart be replaced with a magical ball of iron that Endrick could control when necessary. Hence our nickname for them: Ironhearts. Never a compliment.

  Before Celia could protest again, which she undoubtedly would, I found a solid grip on the carriage frame and put a foot on the step.

  "Darrow!" I called up toward the driver's box.


  Darrow was almost thirty years my senior, but had the energy and spirit of a person half his age. He had dark hair that was rarely combed, a beard always in need of a trim, and, I believed, an infatuation with Cook. It wasn't fair that she had been dismissed upon my leaving the Lava Fields.

  He shook his head when he saw me. "You're in a security carriage for a reason, Kestra!"

  "I'm not in it now for other reasons. Give me a hand up!"

  He chuckled, then shifted the reins into one hand and scooted across the bench toward me. "You have to get higher than the wheels, or you'll be caught in them."

  Darrow used to discourage me from such risky behaviors, but as soon as he understood I was going to do them anyway, he'd changed tactics. Now he taught me how to survive the risks I took.

  I checked my grip on the rail, then took my first step forward, blinking hard against the brisk evening air. This wasn't a good idea. Which was the very reason to do it. If nothing else, it might be my only chance to study Lord Endrick's newest creation up close: the oropod. These creatures pulling my carriage fascinated me. Oropods were slightly larger than horses but had the muscle structure of a snowy lizard, with leathery, green-patterned skin and two powerful hind legs. Before we left the Fields, the garrison leader had explained how their front claws could be used for fighting or climbing, and showed us their fanged teeth. I'd asked to ride one back in the Fields, just to see if I could, but was told that an oropod had to know its rider's scent, or it'd eat the rider. Hence the reason Lord Endrick was fond of them.

  Celia opened the carriage window. "This is reckless, my lady. If your father finds even a scratch on you, he'll kill me."

  I glanced back, expecting to laugh off her comment. But Celia sounded upset, and for good reason.

  I was thirteen when I'd been sent from my father's home, still young enough to excuse his flaws as my own failures of understanding. I'd been young enough then to love him despite his coldness, and to pretend that he cared for me too. After three years, I wondered if any love remained in his heart at all. It was still beating, so there had to be some humanity left. Yet it would take a special talent for cruelty to become the chief counsel to Lord Endrick. I couldn't imagine the terrible things my father must have done in Endrick's name.

  After one more plea from Celia, I called to Darrow that I'd go back inside the carriage after all. It meant delaying our talk, but I couldn't risk her getting into trouble because of me.

  Before I took my first step, a whoosh came from the woods on both sides of the road. At first I thought it must be a swarm of bats flying from behind the trees, but then I heard the cries from the garrison. These were disks, dozens of them.

  "Get back inside!" Darrow yelled as he pulled up on the reins.

  Four Dominion soldiers were leading our carriage. Three of these men were immediately cut down by the disks' sharp edges, and the fourth didn't get far before he was hit too. The two riders behind our carriage shouted for me to duck, but I was too terrified to move. Seconds later, they were struck as well, tumbling off the backs of their oropods.

  Fear flooded into me, so forcefully I couldn't hold my thoughts together.

  My garrison was dead. All of them. Dead, and in mere seconds. Who could have done this? And why?

  "Kestra, get down!" Darrow ordered.

  This time, I obeyed, bending my knees low, my hands clinging to the frame of the carriage. Darrow steered sharply around the riderless oropods, so I couldn't open the heavy door, but if another disk attack came, I'd be vulnerable. Two oropods still pulled our carriage. If they fell, we'd be trapped here.

  Trapped by whom?

  The clan of the Banished, who'd kidnapped me three years ago, were enemies of my family and had been exiled from the Dominion. After four days in their captivity, during which they'd somehow failed to kill me, Darrow had come to my rescue, and remained in my service ever since, in case the Banished returned.

  Except this didn't feel like the Banished. They weren't known for precision attacks.

  The Coracks were. This thought chilled me to my bones.

  The reason why I'd been missing for three years didn't matter. What did matter was that no one was supposed to know where I'd been, or that I was headed home tonight.

  But whoever was hiding in the woods knew. And whatever they wanted with me, they were obviously willing to kill to get it.

  I was in serious trouble.

  Darrow had been hurrying our carriage forward, but now it slowed. Not a good sign. I peeked out from the side of the carriage, as much as I dared. On the road far ahead were several riders on horseback, their faces shadowed against the rising moonlight. Whoever they were, we were heavily outnumbered.

  My hands shook, but I tried to steady them. I could do this. I had to do this. Tucked into a garter around my thigh was a knife, which was there for this very reason. Celia was useless with a blade, but Darrow was well armed, and I could do my share of damage. It would have to be enough.

  Darrow checked my position again. "I'll steer the carriage sideways and slow it for you to jump."

  "What about Celia--"

  "It's the Coracks. They're here for you."

  I cursed, something that in ordinary circumstances would make Darrow laugh, and would've made my father collapse a lung. But if ever there were a proper time for a curse word, this was it.

  The battle for control of Antora raged between two bloodlines: the Dallisor family and the Halderian clan, now generally known as the Banished. Until the most recent war, the Dallisors had become numerous, powerful, and occupied the throne more often than not. Now we were simply powerful. All Dallisors served Lord Endrick, with my father at their head, and together with our armies and all those loyal to Endrick, we were known as the Dominion. What we lacked in love from the citizenry was compensated by our demands for respect and the fact that the Dominion was never going away. At least, not because of the Banished. Since the war, their clan was far too weak and scattered to mount any significant challenge.

  But the Corack rebels were a significant worry. These common citizens resented the Dominion, and were tired of waiting for the Banished to organize again. In seven years of the Corack rebellion's existence, the Dominion had failed to wipe out their numbers. The Coracks were ripping apart our country from within. I couldn't help but wonder if they had similar plans for me.

  "Kestra, it's time to run!" Darrow hissed.

  A flash of terror sliced through my heart. Darrow had taught me what to do in circumstances like this--I knew he had, and yet all of that vanished from my mind. A part of me still felt like that weak girl from three years ago, the one who'd cowered in fear, waiting to be killed.

  No, I knew what to do. Jump. Hide. Run and don't look back. That's what Darrow wanted.

  "Go, Kestra. Now!" Darrow's urgent tone forced me into motion.

  I leapt to the ground, attempting to roll with the fall. My shoulder slammed hard against the dirt, and my knee skidded into a rock. But I hurried to my feet, stayed low, and bolted for the side of the road. It was a short run to the nearest stand of trees, but I could make it.

  Almost immediately, a voice shouted out for Darrow to stop, which he did. Celia had closed the carriage door, but I pictured her huddled into a corner of one seat, frozen with fear. Darrow held his hands in the air.

  He said, "We haven't got much money, but you're welcome to it."

  A voice called back, "We don't want money tonight. Coracks only steal what we need." A beat passed. "Or who we want."

  Run.

  The word screamed into my brain, somehow becoming louder than the pounding of my heart, or the pulse in my ears. With a little cleverness, I could evade the rebels inside the thick woods just off the road. But what would happen to Darrow and Celia after I ran? I'd heard plenty about Corack brutality, of their willingness to kill. Could I abandon my servants if I was the intended target?

  I lifted my skirt enough to withdraw the knife, then stayed low while I crept to a better vantage
point. In the moonlight, eight horses were visible, though some of their riders were standing on the road with disk bows in their hands. Theirs were larger than those of the Dominion, designed to fire horizontally, unlike our vertical bows. Moreover, their disks slid automatically from a pocket directly onto the string, which explained how relatively few rebels had launched such a comprehensive attack.

  "Everyone inside the carriage, come out!" I couldn't see the man who was shouting, except to note that he was still astride his horse in the center of the road.

  Celia didn't have to obey. If she sealed the window and bolted the door, they'd have a hard time getting her out.

  But the carriage door opened anyway, and Celia emerged with her hands raised. "Please don't hurt me. I'm alone now."

  Now? I could have groaned out loud. Celia had served me well, but not always with the full function of her brain.

  A girl in riding crops and a fitted tunic dismounted and grabbed Celia, pulling her forward and forcing her to her knees directly in front of the oropods. Under my breath, I swore again. They didn't know her scent. If she was too close, they might try to bite her.

  They didn't know the scent of the Coracks either. If I could release them from their harnesses, how much damage could they do? But what about Celia?

  A second rebel made a quick search of the carriage, commenting on the value its metal frame would offer the Coracks if they kept it. A third opened my trunk and tossed out the clothes packed inside. Because that would've been a brilliant place to hide someone, apparently--smothered in a sealed iron trunk between layers of clothes.

  "She must have jumped out," the man on the horse shouted. "Everyone, start searching!" He raised his voice further. "For your own sake, Kestra Dallisor, surrender!"

  They knew my name? I'd spent the past three years wondering if my father remembered it, but the rebels clearly did. Why me? There were other Dallisor families they might have targeted, other daughters who surely had more value to the Dominion. My life could not possibly matter to a Corack.

  Another reason to worry.

  As the rebels spread out to search, I tucked myself between two beech trees, hoping their thick branches would shield me from the moonlight. The knife was firm in my grip, ready. Willing.

  Two Coracks passed by me, so close that I caught a whiff of their rebel stink. One was a man about Darrow's age with unnaturally white hair and, in his right hand, a lever blade longer than my arm. These weapons were illegal for all but Dominion soldiers. Its bearer would stab the victim, then click a lever to spread apart two halves of the blade. I couldn't imagine the pain it caused before death.