Aimee Marseille knows something is wrong when she is summoned quickly to return home. Upon her father's death, she finds startling news about the family's secret. Mechanical knights walk the countryside, an odd woman who seems to know more than she...
Gaspard turned the corner and found himself confronted with a solid wall of rock. "This wasn't what I expected," he said with a frown as he perused the crevices within the stone. There had to be something he overlooked, some small detail which would allow him to find a way into the rebels headquarters.
He had only been there twice before – not enough so he would be capable of finding it on his own without assistance. The few people he explored this area with had only brought him because they needed someone to embed within the Adviser's ranks. It was difficult finding people to turn against her because of her known ruthlessness. Yet there was nothing for Gaspard to fear. Everything he had, everything he wanted, had disappeared already.
"Wonderful. Another wall. We're never going to find this place." Aimee leaned her face forward and removed the portion of his shirt beneath her nose, blood still dripping from her nose yet not as strongly as before.
"I know we're close. There had to be someway to break through this." His hand reached at his side, removing his dagger from his side and stabbing it between the rocks. There was little movement, but there was some. If he had to, he would break down this entire wall to find what they needed.
Aimee moved in closer. "Do you need help with that?"
"You can. We need to move all these stones and see if -" He abruptly cut himself off and raised his palm towards her.
She stopped and listened as well.
The unmistakable sound of metallic feet hitting against the rocky bottom sounded from behind them. "We didn't clear our tracks," he said to himself, the words hitting against him with a resounding thud. He thought they would've been cleared, yet it seems as though he wasn't as careful as he hoped. He grabbed onto her wrist. "We need to keep moving, your highness. We can't stay here."
She nodded. "Let's go."
As they hurried through the tunnels, disappearing deeper into the darkness with the faint glow of a rapidly burning torch getting lower with every passing moment, he hoped there was a secondary way to enter into the encampment. If not, he'd find some way to protect her. She was his responsibility now. He would do everything to protect her.
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The door to the rebel camp looked the same as Fekrin remembered all those years ago. Even the gash in the third slat he made one night when escaping from one of Stanton's soldiers was still there. It brought a comforting smile to his face. "We're here."
Nafrit crossed her arms and tilted her head to the side. "It really does only look like a regular door. Not sure how people can't notice it."
"No one spots what's out in the open. They all want something hidden away, tucked from sight. That's the reason the rebels stay safe. They know what to do to survive."
There were also several traps in place once they crossed the threshold, yet he knew how to maneuver around them. Most of them he had implemented in the first place.
He still remembered the night when he brought up the proposition about creating these barriers. Several of the key members protested. They wanted everyone in the Glass Star to know they were willing to accept them; that believing someone was wrongly in a position of power was something they could be allied in. All it took was one night. One night when Stanton's men broke through their entrance and laid waste to everyone who dared opposed her.
He had only been with the group for a few months at that point, scarcely long enough to consider himself a member. Several people were huddled around fires, talking with one another about how things would be different once balance was restored. Once the king returned, all of this would seem like nothing but a bad dream. A few of them had even settled in for the night in their respective tents and makeshift village they constructed over the year.
A brilliant flash of bright white light illuminated the area quite suddenly. Fekrin grabbed his pistol, not sure what was happening, when he heard the sounds of metal clanging upon the ground. Steel caught the glints of fire and reflected back as the mechanical men made their approach. Panic crept through the area as people ran, taking nothing but their bodies, and still many unable to get further than a few yards.
Several of his friends died that night. He would've as well had he not been forced from the skirmish by an older man into retreating. It remained one of his deepest regrets and after fulfilling a promise to himself to keep the rebels safe, he went into exile.
He bristled at the remembrance. "There's also something else you should know. These people might not accept you readily at first. They might even ask for you to test your conviction before they give you access to the camp."
"Conviction?" Narit shook her head. "I don't think that's something I really need to prove. I'm here. That's enough for anyone else." She twisted her index finger through one of her curls as she spoke.
"Lots of people want nothing more than to secure Stanton's rule forever. They need to know you're serious about removing her from her ill obtained position of power."
She nodded. "Oh, that kind of conviction. No problem. I'm sure once I explain I arrived with Aimee and she's the king's daughter, everything will be fine."
He wished he had her kind of optimism. There were far too many uncertainties for him to accept everything would be smooth. He expected resistance. He expected them to hotly question his loyalties, especially since his departure years ago. He knew he should've stayed.
"Do you think Aimee's already here? It would make sense. After all, she's the one these people want. I can't see why they wouldn't have already whisked her away and possibly prepared her a fine dress to wear when they place the crown on her head."
"I don't know. I'd like to think so." The alternative was a disparaging thought to cross his mind. His hand reached out, grabbing hold of the solid brass ring which carefully mashed into the design of the door. He felt the cool metal hit against his palm and took a deep breath before pulling.
