Rebel Song Page 5

  And then it happened. As they had sat on the beach after the disturbing experience in the alleys, she had noticed how his bright sapphire eyes often had the complexity of a stormy winter sky. She noticed the way his coal black hair fell shaggily over his firm jaw and chiseled cheekbones peeking through smooth, tanned skin. His arms had seemed to thicken with hardened muscles and his shoulders seemed wider. Overnight, he transformed from someone safe and innocuous to a dark and exhilarating force. It sent icy shivers through her veins. At first, she was terrified of the bizarre fluttering inside her, of the tremble in her skin and inability to focus her thoughts. Now, she was beginning to seriously question what she had gotten herself into.

  El stepped through the thick blooming orange trees overtaking the narrow path, walking to where Rogan sat waiting for her at the table carved from rock. It wasn’t their usual place in the rock cove on the beach by the edge of the docks, but a secluded clearing hidden beneath a cluster of thick trees in the outskirts of the city park. It was a conceivable walk from the library, where she was always delivered each Friday morning at 11:30 to volunteer with the illiterate children of the city. And every Friday at two, she told the Secret Guardsmen assigned to her that she was going to read in private for a few hours, a pretense she could hardly believe ever worked. She was beginning to realize how little care her guardsmen took with their jobs.

  The clearing was tucked far enough away from the city center to provide absolute seclusion. When Rogan had first suggested they change their spot, panic consumed her already nerve-rattled body. She’d heard whispers in the palace halls about uprisings and protests in the countryside—in Pear Valley. She’d heard of people being bludgeoned in the streets for refusing to cooperate with Rangers or dragged from their homes in the night, accused of inciting unrest. She knew something serious was bubbling and couldn’t help but fear Rogan was about to tell her something unthinkable had happened. And she was somehow to blame by default.

  Rogan sat mindlessly shuffling a deck of old playing cards, a wedge of cheese and a loaf of bread spread out on the table next to him. A bottle of what looked like chilled lemon tea sat on the edge of the table beside two small glasses. He was in his signature unkempt attire—a fitted dark blue tee shirt that exposed the ends of swirling black ink on his upper right arm and dark denim pants over his usual scuffed black work boots. A thousand needles pricked at her skin at the sight of him. The crack of a branch grabbed his attention and his eyes shot up to embrace her image.

  “Hey,” he said softly—almost distractedly—as his eyes lingered, half-lidded on her.

  “Hey, yourself.” She tried to fight down a blush. She stepped closer. “So why are we meeting up here?”

  He stood to embrace her in a friendly hug. She lingered in his scent—earthy and crisp.

  “I just thought it might be nice if we got away from the open air for a change and could relax. It’s hot today and there are so many eyes on us everywhere we walk. I hate that you’re always looking over your shoulder.” He smiled, but his tone was uneasy.

  They snacked on the bread and cheese and played a few rounds of Rummy, carrying on as always about places they wanted to visit at the ends of the world and local celebrity gossip. She told him about the latest antics of the noble circles, including how Minor Lord Menin had gotten a sixteen-year-old girl from the Valley in trouble in the most “carnal of ways.” Rogan related the comical antics of his friends, leaving her rolling in laughter. But despite the normalcy of their conversation, El couldn’t shake the twisting in her belly and the dampness in her palms. She could feel a new kind of energy vibrating between them—one she couldn’t contain. It wasn’t exactly tension—it was more intense—and more frightening. It rippled up her spine, rattling her limbs. Feeling light-headed, she stood abruptly.

  “Are you okay?” Rogan jumped to his feet. El took a deep breath and steadied herself.

  “Yes, I’m fine. I think I’ve just been sitting too long. The damp air is making me a little woozy,” she sputtered. She shook her arms as if she could wring the energy out of them. She walked toward the small creek that ran through the clearing and reached in to splash her face with icy water. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. When she stood, Rogan was standing beside her with his hesitant arms outstretched, as if preparing to catch her. She turned around and nearly fell into his body.

  “I...I just...was feeling a little hot.” She wiped her wet hands on her yellow sun dress. She looked up at him; he was nearly a foot taller than she was, finding his stormy eyes locked on her. Cool water dripped from her chin. Rogan’s thumb brushed away a drop, then a piece of damp hair from her eyes. His fingers lingered on her flushed cheek. The fragile joints of her knees began to buckle at his touch and her heart thrust against her chest in swift convulsive thumps.

  “I…” Rogan’s lips parted as if he were about to make a confession, but instead he brought them down on hers with a hungry urge. She lost control of her balance and fell backward, but his arms were ready to hold her up. With hardly a moment of hesitation, she gave in and kissed him back. Her mouth filled with the taste of earth and lemon as the soft skin of his lips pressed into hers. With a melodic rhythm, their lips danced and swayed in perfect cadence. It seemed a lifetime of uninhibited, interlocking lips before he finally pulled back from her and stared down with eyes that were both satisfied and terrified.

  “I’m so sorry,” he whispered with a haggard breath. He loosened his grip on her and pulled away. “I should have never done that. I’ve just wanted to do that for so long. I just had to…at least once.”

  “Rogan,” El began, her face burning. She touched a finger to her swollen lips. “I...” She couldn’t focus her thoughts into words. Her head was spinning and her nerves were fraying at the ends.

  “I know,” he interjected and dropped his hold on her all together. “I’ve probably ruined it all now...” He raked his fingers through his thick, black hair, damp with humidity. He dropped his head to stare at the moist dirt beneath their feet. El took a deep breath and placed a warm hand on his chin, thrusting his face back up.

  “You’ve ruined nothing.” She stared at him intently, then brought his mouth back down on hers.

  CHAPTER 8

  With the taste of lemons on her lips, El returned home from the encounter with Rogan glowing and practically dancing on air. Every concern she had when she awakened that morning had melted away in a puddle of indifference. Her eyes saw nothing but blurs of brilliant colors and she could hear nothing but the pounding of her own heart. Everything else faded into the background. Ada gave her a skeptical look when she greeted her at the front gate.

  “Elyra, where have you been? And what are you all dreamy-eyed about?” Ada studied her with narrowed hazel eyes. Her sharp northern accent was still present after two decades of living in the capital.

  “Hmm? Oh, nothing. I just…read the best story. It was…a romance,” El said with glazed, half-lidded eyes and a lazy smile. Ada let out a deep, soulful laugh.

  “Then it begins. You’ve discovered the presence of great love in the world. And now your pretty little brain is filled with fantastical nonsense.”

  Elyra scowled at her, but secretly mulled over the words. Is that what she had felt in the clearing with Rogan’s mouth on hers, his hands gripping her face as if to keep from devouring her whole—fantastical nonsense? He had quickly become her best friend—perhaps her only real friend, other than Ada. Was that the same thing as love?

  “It’s just a book, Ada.” Elyra brushed off her lady’s maid with an indifferent eye roll. “It doesn’t mean I know anything about all that love garbage.” She pushed past her into the main entry of the palace.

  “Garbage?” Ada squealed, scurrying after her. “Love is the most amazing gift you can hope to receive in this lifetime. And a girl like you should pray for such a gift.”

  Elyra snapped around and glared.

  “What does that mean? Why wouldn’t I?”

  Ada’s mouth gaped
slightly as she caught herself, averting her eyes toward the giant royal portrait in the front hall, mindlessly smoothing her mousy brown bun.

  “I just mean we all should be so lucky. Look at your poor Ada. No one’s slipped a ring on this finger yet and I’m over the thirty hump.”

  “Yes, we all know you’re a dried up old spinster. You said a girl like me. Is there something wrong with me?” Elyra’s hand went to her hip, her volatile temper rising.

  “Calm down, El,” Ada raised a hand to her. “You know you’re a beautiful young woman.” This softened Elyra’s grimace. Despite her practice at humility, Elyra was admittedly vain. “I meant a girl like you, who happens to be...a princess. Life is a little more complicated for someone like you,” Ada answered delicately.

  Elyra opened her mouth to protest but found no words with which to argue. Ada was right—she would be lucky to find love and not just a business arrangement. She had always known that reality and simply chose to ignore it. She stood, silently searching for a rebuttal.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. It was a very stupid slip of the tongue,” Ada said. Elyra looked up at her with burdened eyes, and turned to walk toward her quarters in silence.

  “Elyra...” Ada rushed after her. Elyra stopped before the lift and turned around.

  “No, you’re right, Ada. I’m not so naïve that I don’t know you’re right.” She shrugged, her fantasies slipping back into the storybook. “It won’t be about love for me. It will be about what’s best for the nation. And it’s time I start accepting that.”

  “You absolutely don’t know that. It’s not like it used to be in the old days. People don’t get forced into marriages anymore.”

  “No, but they get highly persuaded into them,” Elyra muttered with a snicker.

  “Come now, don’t be so dramatic. You’re still so young to worry so much about things like that. You’ll find the right match when the time is right. Someone who will love both you and Arelanda. And your da won’t have a thing to say about it.” Ada offered a warm smile, but Elyra could see the truth behind her feigned optimism.

  “Thank you Ada. You are always a comfort.” Elyra turned and headed toward her rooms

  Ada’s harsh reminder dug into El’s bones, giving her the final motivation she needed to confess to Rogan who she really was—what she was. It wasn’t fair to keep him in the dark as whatever they had between them grew deeper and stronger. What had she been thinking to let herself go down this road? He was some farm kid from the Valley, for God’s sake. Did she actually think they would have a shot at happily ever after? She couldn’t let him fall for someone who could never reciprocate. And more importantly, she was dangerously teetering on the edge of falling herself.

  She waited patiently amongst the orange trees and damp dirt in the park clearing, anxiously intertwining her fingers until he finally emerged from the woodland. He was in his usual cotton shirt and worn denim pants with black boots. Were his arms always so muscular? she thought, before flicking the consideration away. She had to keep a clear head. He paused when he caught sight of her in the clearing and his eyes fixed on her until it made her squirm. He walked toward her slowly, then slid his hands to the small of her back and pressed her waist to his. She whimpered and seriously reconsidered the whole idea of a solemn confession. With desire bright in his eyes, he leaned his lips to hers.

  “Rogan, wait,” Elyra pulled away, her lips tingling.

  “I’m sorry.” Both embarrassment and lust bubbled in his eyes. “I just couldn’t wait to see you.” He stroked her lips with a rough fingertip.

  “I know. I’ve been anxious to see you, too. But I need to talk with you.” She brushed his hand from her face. Rogan tensed and eased away.

  “Are you okay? You look pale. Even for you. C’mon, sit.” He led her toward the makeshift rock table. Elyra was silent. “What is it, El? Is everything all right?”

  She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. Her voice cracked as she tried to speak.

  “No,” she whispered. “Things are not all right. I’ve done something terrible and I am dying over it.”

  Rogan’s brow furrowed.

  “Whatever it is, you can tell me.” She blinked back a few tears and took in a deep, mindful breath.

  “I…I don’t…” She couldn’t focus. Her heart pulsed with racing adrenaline.

  “You don’t have some other boyfriend, do you?” He teased, although there was unmistakable concern in his expression.

  Elyra took another breath and brought her eyes to his. “No, it’s not that. I need to introduce myself to you.”

  Rogan raised an eyebrow, confusion masking his face.

  “Excuse me?” He laughed slightly. She breathed again and forced herself to hold his gaze.

  “I’m not exactly who you think I am,” she continued, keeping her tone serious.

  “Your name isn’t El?” He smiled as if she were speaking nonsense.

  “Well, some do call me El, but my true name is Elyra.”

  Rogan regarded her curiously.

  “Hmm, Elyra. I like it. But I’m not upset you gave me a nickname.”

  Elyra forced a soft smile.

  “No, it’s not that. What I really need to tell you is my family name.”

  “Ah. So you’re finally going to tell me which fat cat lord you belong to, eh?” Rogan crossed his arms, playful, yet serious.

  “He’s definitely a fat cat,” she said half under her breath. “My full name is actually Elyra… Ballantyne.” She let the words flow out as quickly as ripping a bandage from a wound. His eyes processed the words, then widened as they sunk in.

  “Ballantyne?” He repeated uncertainly.

  She nodded.

  “Like the King?” The side of his mouth rose in an incredulous smirk.

  “Yes.”

  “So what are you saying? You’re related to the king? A niece or second cousin or something?”

  Elyra sucked in a breath. She stood straight and mustered her courage. She smoothed her hair and focused her eyes on Rogan’s.

  “I am Elyra Ballantyne, Princess of Arelanda, Duchess of the five Commonwealth realms and sole heir to His Royal Majesty, His Grace King Henri Ballantyne II.” She tried to sound proud and confident in her birthright as she spewed her titles, not terrified to her core of what that meant for them. To add a moment of jest, she offered an exaggerated curtsy, which did not seem to soften the blow.

  For a few agonizing moments Rogan was a silent statue—his eyes drained of light as his face fell. He stared at her as if her features had rearranged themselves.

  “Rogan, say something!”

  “Are you trying to be funny?”

  She shook her head.

  “You’re a…princess?” He finally managed, notes of disbelief in his tone. “Like the princess?” Elyra nodded. “Why didn’t you tell me this?”

  “I couldn’t. You would have never agreed to meet me. Not that first time, nor this time. You would have never been there for me. You would have never kissed me—”

  “Damn right, I wouldn’t have!” He finally seemed to realize what she had really, really said. He threw his shoulders back and shuddered, eyes searching for a handle on reality. “But you spent all that time out in public…”

  “I’m a person too, Rogan. They do let me leave the house. And I have always been careful to remain private.”

  “But how could you not tell me? All this time—”

  “You have to understand. Those long days with you...I could be myself with you. I didn’t have to hold on to pretense or lie.” She reached out to touch him but he jumped away from her fingers as if they were knives.

  “But you were lying! Everything you said, or didn’t say, was a complete lie. You played me for a fool.”

  “No, Rogan! I never meant to—“

  “Don’t you know what this means for me? For both of us? I could be arrested. I could be hanged!”

  “Don’t be so dramatic. We’re not doi
ng anything illegal.”

  “Are you sure about that? I’m pretty sure there’s a law somewhere on the books preventing some low-born Valley boy from consorting with the Princess!”

  “You give me too much credit. I’m not a deity.”

  That made him laugh.

  “Too much credit? What do you think your father, you know the King, would have to say about that? For God’s sake, El, you let me kiss you!” His face was a steaming cocktail of hurt, betrayal and terror. She had never felt more vulnerable.

  “Keep your voice down. Look, whatever the laws are, they don’t matter to me,” Elyra pleaded.

  “They matter to someone. Or they’d never have been written.”

  “No one knows about us but us. Our secret is—”

  “How do you know? How do you know you aren’t being followed? What makes you think the royal heir wouldn’t be tailed everywhere she went? This is crazy.”

  “They think I’m helping poor, lowly Valley children. And in a way, I am.” She smiled and reached her hand up to touch his cheek, but he swatted her hand away.

  “This isn’t a joke. So why tell me now? Why, after all this time together, did you think it was okay to come clean? Did you realize I wasn’t as stupid as you thought?”

  She ignored his dig. Could she answer that truthfully? Could she really tell him that they could never be together? That she came there today to end it forever for both their safety?

  “I never thought you were stupid. I told you because you deserved to know. I realized how dangerous this was. Things have changed between us; it isn’t a game between children any more. I can’t pretend that I’m a normal girl. What happened between us…it comes with risks.”

  A thick lump formed in her throat as she watched Rogan absorb and process what she was saying. He had known from the start she wasn’t just some farmer’s daughter from the other end of the city. He knew she was noble; she had admitted that much. He even guessed that she was from an important family—her secrecy told him that. But evidently he had never guessed the real truth.