Rebel's Honor(12)

Clearly, he wasn't talking to her, so Lynx shot her head around to see what the priestess was up to.

"Of course, my lord." Mother Saskia's tongue did a quick circuit of her  lips, lapping up sweat. "I will immobilize her now. Mark my words,  she'll not be giving anyone any trouble again."

Immobilize? What did that mean? Nothing good, to be sure. Lynx pulled  out her second machete and jerked it down, driving the tip into the  general's thigh as a warning to leave her alone. She heard fabric rip  and relished the satisfaction of metal slicing into flesh. It wasn't a  deep wound-she couldn't risk that, not with an heir to the throne-but  the message to both him and the priestess was clear: she would not be  quietly "immobilized."

"Lynx!" Kestrel shouted. "What are you doing?"

Axel Avanov jumped back, letting go of her hand. "You cut me!"

He sounded so surprised that Lynx assumed no one had ever challenged him.

"My lord!" the priestess gasped, lunging forward like a bodyguard.

Lynx ignored both the priestess and her sister, all focus on him because he was the one giving the orders.

"Nicely done, Princess." He smirked. "So your weapons aren't just for show?"

"Try to ‘immobilize' me, and I'll show you exactly what I use them for."

He glanced at something over her shoulder, then shouted, "Mother, no-"

Lynx turned to see the priestess's gloveless hand extended toward her.  The moonstone next to her eye pulsed just as the priestess touched her  fingers to the bare skin on Lynx's arm.

A burst of pain, more exquisite than anything Lynx had ever experienced,  shot through her arm and up into her chest. Gasping for air, tongue  lolling as if gripped in a massive seizure, her knees collapsed, and she  crumpled to the ground. Lynx writhed as Kestrel screamed, the sound  muffled and distant. The priestess leaned over her, her face blurring  around the edges.

Then everything went black.





Chapter 9





Lynx groaned. An incessant clattering throbbed through her head, and the  world rocked from side to side. Nausea curdled her stomach. She was  lying face down on-what? A cushion? Slowly, she unclenched her fingers,  feeling the surface beneath her. A padded bench.

Where was she? The sound and motion suggested a train, but that was  impossible. Only moments before, she had collapsed at the stable yard.  To find out, she would have to open her eyes. The idea made her head  pound even more.

"Are you awake?" Kestrel's voice.                       
       
           



       

Lynx forced her lips to move. "Barely."

"Like I said, you shouldn't have kissed Heron. Let alone stabbed that general. He's an heir to the throne, you know. After Tao."

Lynx groaned. I've woken up to this! "Where are we?"

"If you would sit up, you'd see."

Lynx shifted, easing life back into her frozen muscles. Every inch of  her body ached, but she'd be damned if she told Kestrel that. Even her  skin felt different-heavy and constricting, it pressed down on her like  it didn't belong on her body. She sank back onto the seat.

A tide of dizziness swamped her as she opened her eyes. When the million  dancing spots cleared, she saw she was lying in a compartment of a  railroad car, lined with red and gold silk. One side even had a black  dragon embroidered on the fabric. A small window gleamed next to her,  making her eyes throb too much to even consider looking out of it.

"We're on the train? How did I get here?"

Kestrel sat opposite her, reading a book. "The priestess commanded some  guardsmen to carry you on." She didn't look up. "General Avanov and  Colonel Zarot are also on board."

Lynx had no idea who Colonel Zarot was. It didn't look like Kestrel would explain, either.

"Last I knew, I was defending my braid. Then some she-witch grilled me with her fingers."

"Like I said, you shouldn't have knifed him. Or kissed Heron."

She hadn't kissed Heron! He had kissed her! But it was pointless. Right  now, as annoying as Kestrel was, she needed her sister too much to  fight.

"Who knew priestesses had those kinds of powers?" Lynx asked to change the subject.

Her dealings with the Chenayan religion were non-existent. But she had  learned something from the miserable experience: the moment the  priestess had touched her, her moonstone had pulsed. There had to be a  connection. That, at least, was gratifying, making the painful  experience worthwhile.

"Axel Avanov . . . did he tell the priestess not to hurt me? Or did I imagine that?"

"He said ‘no.' I don't think he was pleased."

"Hmm . . . that surprises me." Lynx wished Kestrel would engage in this discussion so she didn't have to drag it out of her.

But, head averted, her sister's fingernails picked at the worn cover of  her novel. Ownership of books was forbidden in the empire-a ban Kestrel  was happy to flaunt for the pleasure of reading romance novels.

Once a year, the Norin caravan brushed Lapis, a Free Nation. There,  steam-printed books were produced in small numbers-not enough to risk  the ire of the Chenayans who might decide to quash such rebellion by  their independent neighbor. With a passing knowledge of Lapisian,  Kestrel saved her money for books. King Thorn knew it was risky, letting  his people breach the poorly guarded border, but he said the pursuit of  the written word outweighed possible reprisals.

The spinning in Lynx's head had subsided enough for her to risk looking  out the window. The track they were following ran parallel to a soft,  white beach lapped by azure waters. It had to be the shores of the  Izmodo Sea. The sun, not yet tipping the ocean, lay low in the sky.

"How far are we from the checkpoint at Final Gate?"

Kestrel shrugged. "I don't know. I wondered myself. I was hoping to look out the window before-" Her sister's voice faltered.

Lynx guessed at what Kestrel wasn't saying. She wanted a last look at  Norin before they crossed the narrow land bridge; it jutted two miles  across the sea that divided Norin from the Chenayan heartland.

That Kestrel cared softened Lynx's heart. "If you tell me how long we've  traveled, I'll tell you when we're likely to get there."

Kestrel cleared her throat. "We were in Tanamre for about an hour. And  we've been traveling for about four, I guess, given how the sun has  shifted."

That made five hours.

She'd been unconscious that long? The she-witch hadn't been joking when she said she would immobilize her.

"We should get to our side of the land bridge in less than an hour."  Lynx remembered the wristwatch Heron had given her and forced her frozen  arm to move so she could look at it-and gasped.

Not only was her precious watch gone, but so was her leather tunic. A  lacy white cuff dangled delicately over her hand, attached to a  tight-fitting, pale pink taffeta sleeve. She leaped to her feet and  bashed her head against the wood-lined roof, hardly aware of the impact.

"No wonder I feel so terrible I can barely move!" she shrieked. "That bitch put me in a dress. With a stupid bustle."

"I know." Kestrel wailed. "I can't believe what she's done to you. You  look so . . . unnatural, I can't bear to look at you." She launched out  of her seat and threw herself at Lynx, locking her arms around her  waist. "And your other braid-" Kestrel actually sobbed.                       
       
           



       

Lynx understood why Kestrel had been so reticent. Her sister may not  have wanted feathers and beads in her hair, but she knew how much Lynx  cherished them. Her hand darted to her face. The feathers and beads were  gone and the braid teased out of her hair.

"I tried to stop her. I even told her what they mean to a Norin. Honestly, I did," Kestrel cried.

Lynx wasn't listening. Her hands shot to her back, feeling for her  weapons. Unsurprisingly, they were missing. With Kestrel clinging to  her, she plopped onto the bench and yanked up the dress to expose her  boot, where she always kept a blade hidden. But her boots were gone,  too. Instead, she wore a pair of matching pink satin slippers.

They were trying to turn her into a Chenayan! Changing her clothes was the first step. Who knew what would come next?

A scream of rage tore from her chest, and she kicked her feet, sending  the slippers shooting across the compartment. Kestrel tumbled off her  lap, landing in a heap of green and black brocade on the floor.

"Dragon's curses! What is going on in here?"

A door Lynx hadn't noticed slid open, and Mother Saskia's head poked into the tiny space.

"Oh. You're awake." She glared at Lynx. "But still full of defiance, I  see." She held out a warning hand. "This has got to stop, Princess. Such  behavior is hardly becoming from our crown prince's betrothed."