Free Defy by Sara B. Larson

dry and
    filled with peaks and canyons because he was cursed. They said a
    powerful sorcerer made the water sink deep into the earth, so they
    had to dig for it, just to stay alive. Papa had always said that wasn’t true, and I secretly agreed with him. Off to my right was the
    breeding house, which I avoided walking past at all costs. As I
    watched two of the king’s guards come out the door, laughing
    raucously, I had a hard time believing anyone could be more
    deserving of a curse than King Hector, and our land was verdant
    and full of water.
    I had to stop, turn away, and press my fist to my belly to keep
    at bay the nausea that welled up into my throat, threatening to
    make me vomit as I thought of little Kalen in there somewhere,
    dreading the time when her monthly courses came and the attic
    was no longer safe for her. Across the courtyard, boys barely old
    enough to lift a sword were sparring, forced to join the army and
    die for a war that had no end in sight.
    Avenging his wife’s death had sounded like a noble cause in
    the beginning, but after so much death, so much rape and horror
    and atrocity enacted in the name of helping Antion win the war, I
    couldn’t help but hate my own king as much as the enemy’s. No
    matter the outcome, there would be no true victors.
    Tanoori’s words echoed in my mind and I squeezed my eyes
    shut. If there was a way to end this war — to stop King Hector —
    did I have the courage to try?
    65
     nine 
    T hat night, Rylan carried a cot into Damian’s outer
    chamber for me. Thunder rumbled through the palace as
    rain pelted the stone walls, echoing off the roof above us. The air
    was taut with the charged heat of the storm.
    “Where do you want it, Alex?”
    I pointed. “Just set it down next to his door. Hopefully,
    that will be close enough to appease Iker.” I couldn’t quite keep
    the irritation from my voice. I’d stood at attention outside Prince
    Damian’s door for hours, with no sound from within to give
    me any hint as to his activities, lightning and thunder my only
    companions.
    The long silence had given me far too much time to think
    about Marcel and Tanoori. About my life before the army came
    into our village and took Marcel and me away. About the differ-
    ence between training to fight and the reality of actually killing someone.
    Or watching someone you love die.
    The pain of Marcel’s loss washed over me and I stared at the
    cot, willing myself not to lose control. I balled my hands into fists, tried to hold back the sudden, consuming grief.
    And soon Tanoori would die as well.
    66
    “Alex?” Rylan’s voice was concerned.
    I clenched my jaw and, through sheer willpower, forced the
    emotion away. The tightness beneath the cage of my ribs receded
    enough to allow me to breathe without gasping and I looked up at
    him. “I can’t talk about it.”
    He nodded and turned away, allowing me to pull myself
    together. “Do you need anything else?”
    Taking a deep breath, I glanced around. The room was bare of
    anything I needed to wash with or prepare for bed. But that
    brought up the question of how I was to accomplish my toilet-
    ries without revealing myself. If anyone walked in while I was
    bathing — or if Prince Damian came out of his room . . .
    “No,” I finally replied. I’d ring for a maid to bring me a bowl
    of water and a cloth. That would have to suffice.
    He started to walk away, but I called out. “Rylan?”
    Pausing, he looked back.
    “The prisoner I questioned earlier . . . I haven’t been told.
    When have they scheduled her execution?”
    “I haven’t heard, either. I’ll find out and let you know.”
    “Thank you.”
    Rylan looked at me for a moment longer, as though he wanted
    to say something more. Our eyes met and locked. For a moment,
    I wondered what would happen if he knew. If he stood across from
    me right now, knowing that I was a girl who had just lost her brother and been forced to move into the prince’s