The Mistake: Killing The King: Book 1 Read online

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  She shook her head. How could she possibly answer that question? He didn’t know anything about Maldov’s orders and if she couldn’t bring the issue up last night, she definitely couldn’t talk about it now.

  But Jarrod persisted, moving around her body until their lips met again. She felt herself sinking away again, but she forced herself to pull away. It would be selfish, she had to be strong. He deserved to know the truth.

  She pushed herself off the floor and walked to the far wall, hoping some distance might clear her head. Jarrod followed though, snaking his arms around her side, careful not to reopen her wound, and encircling her torso before pulling her body into his. Her eyes closed as his heat sank into her back, giving her a new kind of strength that she never knew existed. She could take on the world with him, but her resolve to tell him the truth faded away.

  If she allowed him to touch her, she would only get more attached and she couldn’t do that, not when she knew she would lose him.

  “Stop,” she whispered, pushing his hands away, “I can’t.”

  She turned to face him and saw his forehead crease.

  “I don’t understand, last night-“

  “Last night I needed someone,” she said, distancing herself from him, “you were there, it happens. Don’t read into it, it was just one night.”

  Jarrod’s face fell and he turned his head away.

  “Oh,” he said, “right. It was silly of me to think…”

  He turned back to his corner and sat down with his back to the wall. He looked so forlorn and she fought the urge to comfort him again. Last night had been a mistake though, she couldn’t give in to her desires again. The ache in her chest would only grow stronger if she comforted him now.

  But her body didn’t listen, moving to his side of its own accord. One arm wrapped around his shoulder while the other curled around his own.

  He glanced down at her hand and stared, waiting several, long seconds before grabbing her hand with his own. Their fingers laced together and, for the first time since she was a child, Natasha felt at home.

  He bent down to kiss her, their lips pressing together for what seemed like an eternity.

  “I love you, you know,” he said, “I guess I always have but I didn’t realize it until last night. There’s nothing like a life or death situation to force you to see the truth.”

  Her unwrapped her arm from around his neck, and encircled her instead, grabbing her hands with his. She leaned into him and listened to his heart beat. What had she done that was so terrible that she deserved this? Did it make the gods laugh to see her fall for a man just to take him away? Did she only get one night of happiness before the world fell apart again?

  She closed her eyes. If this was all she got, then she wouldn’t waste a moment.

  Jarrod kissed the top of her head and started to hum, the low tones reverberating through his body and into her soul. She sighed as he rocked her back and forth, content to stay like this forever. But Jarrod didn’t get more than a few lines into his song before the cell door burst open.

  “Time to go, pretty boy,” one guard said with an evil grin, “do want to be late for the party?”

  Natasha sat upright and stared in horror as the guards moved toward Jarrod.

  “What’s going on?” Jarrod asked as they grabbed his arms.

  “It’s to the block for you,” the guard said, “and the block waits for no man.”

  “What block?” Jarrod asked, his voice rising in pitch, “Natasha, what’s going on?”

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered, tears rising in her eyes, “I’m so sorry.”

  He stared at her with wild eyes, begging for her to explain but all she could do was sit on the floor, her heart slowly tearing apart as Jarrod’s cries faded.

  “You’re coming too,” another guard said, “king’s orders. Says you’re supposed to get a good view.”

  He grabbed her arm but she kicked him away, anger replacing her pain as it had so many times before. Maldov might have won, but she didn’t have to go along with his plans.

  The guard fell to the floor with an enormous clang. He rose again, his face beat red, and raised his arm to slap her across the face.

  “Don’t you dare touch me,” she said, her eyes burning in their sockets.

  The man hesitated for a moment but then his expression hardened and he swung. His hand flew wide and she dodged the blow with ease, rolling to the side. She came up right behind him and grabbed his head. One quick snap and he collapsed to the floor.

  Several more guards stood at the door and one stared at her in horror before rushing to the fallen guard’s side to check his pulse. He turned back to his friends.

  “He’s dead,” said the second guard, “she killed him.”

  The remaining guards took a step back, but they continued to stand by the door, probably unsure who their feared most, her or Maldov. Natasha glared at them before returning to the corner. If Maldov wanted her to watch so much, he would willingly risk a few losses in the attempt, but maybe the guards wouldn’t.

  “Grab her,” said one of the guards by the door.

  The guard inside looked at him in horror.

  “You saw what she did,” he said, “you grab her.”

  The guard by the door shook his head and took another step back, his eyes wide with fear. There was a long silence as the guards stared at her, unsure what to do next but one spoke up in the end.

  “This is ridiculous,” he said, “she can’t take us all down. We go together.”

  He marched into the cell, gesturing for the others to follow, and grabbed her by the arm. She punched him in the neck and he choked, but the other guards rushed to his aid and lifted her from the ground. The brave guard coughed and gasped for air, but she knew he would live.

  She struggled to free herself from the guards but with her feat in the air she didn’t have much leverage. A few solid kicks landed, but nothing did enough damage to cause damage. She knew fighting was pointless, one way or another Maldov would get his way, but she felt good that at least one of Maldov guards lay dead in her cell. If he took someone from her, she would take someone from him, even if it was just a guard.

  “She’s a feisty one isn’t she?” said one of the guards.

  The others nodded.

  “If you ask me,” said another, “we should be executing her rather than that boy. This one’s dangerous.”

  Several guards nodded.

  “Maldov wouldn’t do that,” said the first, “she’s too good at her job. Just look at what she did back in the cell. He didn’t even have time to fight, it was over so quick.”

  More guards nodded.

  “Damn impressive,” said a third guard, “I’ve never seen anything like. She must be really talented.”

  “And she,” Natasha said, “doesn’t like being talked about in the third person. So will you all kindly shut up before I rip all of your heads off?”

  They stared at her in shock for a moment but then shrugged it off, sure in their strength in numbers. She couldn’t hurt them if they stuck together, she knew it and they knew it.

  “She’s just pissed because her boyfriends getting the axe,” said the first, “did you see them, all snuggled up. Revolting.”

  Heat rose in Natasha’s chest and she rammed her legs against one guard in an attempt to launch toward the speaker. They weren’t prepared for her renewed fight and she managed to topple the guard and hold him to the ground, her arm cutting off his air supply.

  “Don’t talk about him,” she said, “at least he can hold his own. You can’t do anything without you sissy girls to back you up. I could pop your head off with one foot if I wanted, and you would do well to remember that.”

  The other guards pulled her off, but not before the light of fear shone in the man’s eyes. She sneered at him and he scuttled away, one hand clasped around his throat.

  “You might want to pay more attention to what
you’re doing,” she told the others, “I’m slippery.”

  The guards exchanged worried glances, but continued onward. At least they had shut up, leaving her to rage in silence.

  Guards are like sheep, always in a pack, not a brain between them. If Maldov told them to jump off a cliff they would, no considering their own imminent deaths until they were already falling. But, they knew how to run. She posed a threat, which meant she held the power, and if she ever caught another sheep without the herd, she would take it out. Maldov needed new guards anyway, these ones were getting old, and they were way too easy to scare.

  They led her down several long hall ways and up a massive flight of stairs, emerging onto the castle wall. Below, she saw the courtyard and the massive stage used for executions. Jarrod wasn’t on it yet, but she knew he would be soon enough.

  Maldov stood on his balcony, looking down at the growing crowds with contempt. He always enjoyed a good spectacle, and no doubt expected this one to be one to remember. He needed someone to mourn the dead, and who better than Natasha, the only girl he couldn’t touch.

  “Today,” he said, raising his arms grandly for the sake of the crowd, “we gather in the name of justice. One among us has committed grievous crimes and must be punished.”

  The crowd noise decreased and the people turned toward Maldov.

  “What crimes has he committed?” called a voice from the crowd, no doubt a plant.

  Maldov smiled and stared at the crowd.

  “Murder.”

  The crowd gasped in horror and one of the noble ladies stationed on a raised platform fainted. Just what Maldov liked.

  “With his actions, he threatens the peace we’ve created. Other kingdoms believe me responsible for his crimes, but with his head I will end these accusations and restore the trust we’ve fought so hard to win.”

  Dozens of the audience members nodded, muttering to each other. They looked angry and several started a chant of ‘destroy the monster’ and ‘take his head’. Natasha frowned, wondering how anyone could buy this. Maldov was the monster, he should be the one punished, but the people seemed genuinely invested in his story. Schmucks.

  She had known Maldov for over four years now and she knew how deceptful he was, how could the villagers ever consider truth in anything he said? Of course, few people lived to see the other side of Maldov’s anger. She lived in unparalleled privilege, able to get away with just about anything she wanted. As long as she proved of value to Maldov, she retained her head, very few people could claim the same, even his own children.

  Speaking of.

  She looked behind Maldov, trying to catch a glimpse of Uttar. He seemed to willing to help her most of the time, maybe there was a chance… But no, not even Uttar could calm his father’s blood lust. People rarely changed Maldov’s mind and Uttar was too soft spoken to handle a situation like this anyway.

  “Bring out the prisoner.”

  The large double doors, which lead to the main hall, burst open and Jarrod emerged. He looked angry and struggled with his guards but it wasn’t until he saw the execution stage that he really started to fight. They hadn’t told him anything.

  Her heart broke again as she watched Jarrod move forward and her will to fight evaporated. He looked so helpless and she couldn’t do a thing to help him. One girl against an army of guards and a sea of angry villagers, couldn’t do much good. But then her eyes drifted back to Maldov.

  He was just one man. A powerful one, granted, but a man just the same. And without his son by his side, Maldov stood alone on the balcony.

  She couldn’t do it though. Killing Maldov would only cause chaos and she would be forced to run. A fugitive with a thousand soldiers on her heels.

  But Jarrod would live, and right now, that’s all that mattered.

  Throwing caution to the wind, she shoved her distracted guards away and climbed up onto the wall rim, teetering as the wind caught her clothes. The guards complained but she moved too quickly to cause much of a stir.

  “Stop her,” called the guards.

  Several hands grasped for her ankles but she had already reached her jump point. Two feet in front of her a banner line was affixed to the wall. It stretched across the courtyard and ended just above the balcony edge.

  She aimed for a banner and jumped, grabbing the fabric and praying to god that it didn’t rip. The metal eyelets dug into the rope and held. She had expected her forward momentum to start the slide but her weight caused to much friction. She bunched the eyelets together and pushed off the wall. At last the fabric moved, inching her toward Maldov.

  Inch by inch traveled, the movements shaky and inconsistent. It hadn’t been her best plan, but she couldn’t change tactics midair. An arrow zipped by her head and she turned in shock to see a line of archers taking aim. She needed to move faster but the banner wasn’t getting her anywhere.

  She grabbed the rope instead, swinging hand over hand. She could feel the eyes of the villagers below but forced herself to keep her focus on Maldov. He smirked at her, gave a little wave, and gestured for his guards to continue with the execution. She redoubled her efforts.

  More arrows whizzed by her, but the guards were shaky and unpracticed. Several individuals below screamed as the arrows sunk into their bodies instead. A gleeful smile spread over Maldov’s face. Additional blood, what he always wanted.

  By the time she drew Maldov’s balcony, the surprise had more than worn off. She was tired and hot, but determined to do something to stop the execution. A few more swings and she would be able to get inside it to confront Maldov directly

  Maldov waggled his eye brows at her and raised his sword.

  “I’m surprised at you Natasha,” he said, “I thought you would be better at this.”

  He hacked through the rope and she fell.

  As the wind rushed passed her air, she realized just how stupid her plan had been. Anybody could have cut the rope at any time, she would have needed enough speed to reach Maldov within a few seconds but the rope angle hadn’t been steep enough, let alone tight.

  Her body smacked into a group of villagers who were either to stunned or to oblivious to move out of the way. She groaned as her wound reopened, somewhat surprised that her journey across the rope hadn’t done that before.

  She could hear the stomping feet of guards approaching and she forced herself to sit up, allowing the villagers to do the same. They approached from everyside, their weapons gleaming in the sunlight. They wouldn’t kill her, she didn’t think, but they wouldn’t go easy either. What a disaster, this is what happens when you don’t think your plans through. Jarrod was still going to be executed and her only hope was that she wouldn’t be joining him.

  She glanced to the side, realizing something. The execution state was only twenty feet to her left and no guards stood between her and it. Once she got him though, how would they possibly escape. The executioners axe might help with that, it would clear the villagers anyway.

  It was a reckless, childish, and stupid plan but she had to believe there was a way. She couldn’t loose another person, especially not to Maldov.

  She shoved off the ground and bounded toward the stage, stopping the executioners axe mid swing. The man grunted and tried to shake her off, but she held on, ensuring the blade never drew close to Jarrod.

  “A little help,” she said, looking back at Jarrod.

  He looked confused, his head still resting on the block. She rolled her eyes and turned back to the executioner who threatened to overpower her with sheer weight. She shifted to the side, unbalancing him, and twisted the axe sideways. The executioner fought to rip his blade from her hands but she used the momentum of his pull to flip over his back.

  Now the executioner was in danger of losing his head. He choked but no longer had the weight of his body to help him move. She pulled the blade back, inching it toward his throat, until at last the steel cut through his flesh.

  His body went limp and tottered forward. Natasha pulled the
blade free and hoped off just before his body hit the stage floor.

  She grabbed Jarrod’s hand and pulled him off the stage. He didn’t fight her but his movements were awkward and he tripped several times.

  “What’s wrong with you,” she shouted, “run.”

  “I can’t,” he said.

  She looked back at him, wondering what could possibly be wrong, and noticed the green tent on his skin. His breathing was labored and sweat covered his face. Poison. Damn it.

  Exertion could kill him, but she didn’t know how to else to get out of the castle. She left Jarrod where he was and pushed through the crowds. There had to be a wheel barrow or something nearby. Nothing, but then she spotted a horse tied to a tree on the outskirts of the crowd line. It was a pack horse, nothing special, but it would have to do.

  The crowd screamed as she forced her way though, many ducking down to cover their heads as if she would randomly start cutting. The kneeling ones got in the way but she reached the horse and cut its lead. She jumped on its back and kicked it into action, steering them both back toward Jarrod.

  He reached up as she drew near and she pulled him into the saddle behind her. Arrows shot toward them and the guards on foot were catching up but they wouldn’t be able to stop her now. She kicked again and the horse shot toward the gate.

  Men ran ahead of her, aiming for the guard towers where the gate controls were but she knew she would make it before they did.

  She kicked the horse again, urging it to greater speeds. But she momentarily forgot about Jarrod’s impaired state and as the horse leapt over a cowering villager, Jarrod slid from the saddle.

  “No!”

  She whipped the horse around and galloped back. When they reached Jarrod, she slid from the saddle and tried to pull him up. His body didn’t respond though and she couldn’t carry his weight. White foam bubbled out of his mouth and his body convulsed.

  She looked around for something, anything that would help, but she didn’t know anything about healing. Tears formed in her eyes and she turned back to Jarrod.

  “Jarrod please,” she said, “don’t give up now. I need you.”