But no matter how much he insisted to Rexus on staying, Sartes was sent home to be with his mother to peel vegetables and wait on her hand and foot.
When he heard wheels crunching against the gravel road, Sartes looked up. The Empire’s blue and gold banner waved above an enclosed wagon, dozens of Empire soldiers marching behind it in two perfectly straight rows.
The front door to the house creaked open, and Sartes’s mother stepped out onto the front porch, squinting toward the cart, a hand shading her eyes, a generous frown on her face.
“Get inside the house, Sartes,” she said.
“Mother – ”
“Get inside the house now!” she screamed.
Sartes huffed and threw the knife into the bucket of water and potatoes. Heading toward the house, he fumed about how unfair it was that everyone treated him like a helpless child.
“And don’t come out until I tell you to, do you hear?” his mother snapped.
Sartes slammed the door shut behind him and sat by the kitchen table, peering out through the partially opened shutter, seeing the Empire wagon slow to a halt right in front of their yard.
An Empire soldier hopped down from the driver’s seat and approached, a scroll carrying the Empire seal in his hand.
“We are here to recruit your firstborn son for the royal army,” the Empire soldier said, holding the scroll toward Sartes’s mother.
Sartes saw that his mother glanced down at the scroll, but did not accept it.
“Ceres is my daughter, and as you know, she is to be wed to Prince Thanos,” she said.
Sartes stood up and tiptoed to the shutter, listening intently.
“It has been ruled by the king that we recruit all firstborn males,” the Empire soldier said.
“My eldest son is dead,” she said, a tremble in her voice.
“And what of your other sons?” the Empire soldier asked.
“How dare you ask that of me?” Sartes’s mother said.
“The king has not excused you or your family from serving him or the Empire. So I ask of you again, have you any other sons?” the Empire soldier continued.
“Even if I did have other sons, which I do not, he would soon be the prince’s brother-in-law, and the royal army would not have claim upon him.”
The Empire soldier took a threatening step toward her, and Sartes thought that he might strike his mother. He almost stormed outside, but he knew if he did, he would have to deal with his mother later, or he would be recruited to the royal army, and neither one of those options sounded tempting in the least.
“Might I assume you are with the rebellion then?” the Empire soldier growled.
“Why in heaven’s name would you assume such a thing?” Sartes’s mother asked.
“Because you are resisting the king’s commands.”
“I am not with the rebellion,” she said.
“Will you obey the king’s orders, then?”
“I will and I do.”
“Then step aside so I can search your house.”
“You have no right to search my home,” she snapped.
“I have orders to kill anyone who resists!” the soldier roared. “Now stand out of my way, wench!”
Sartes gasped, realizing if he didn’t get away, the soldiers would seize him and he would be forced to fight for the royal army. He started toward the back room, but as he did, he bumped into a chair, causing it to tip over with a crash. Stumbling forward, he just made it into the back room when he heard the Empire soldier kicking the front door in.
But before Sartes could escape through the window, the Empire soldier was upon him. The brute clutched Sartes’s arm, pulling him out into the main room again, but Sartes grabbed a chair and swung it at the soldier, hitting him in the head so blood oozed from his brow.
The soldier cried out and fell to the floor, releasing Sartes’s arm, and Sartes dashed into the back room again.
He tore open the shutters and hopped out the window, his heart pounding like a wild beast against his sternum, nothing on his mind other than getting to the field. He passed the shack, the meadow so close, but then he heard his mother screaming.
Unable to continue on, he turned around, and to his horror, he saw the Empire soldier holding a dagger up to his mother’s throat.
“Mother!” he yelled, horrified.
“Please don’t kill me,” his mother croaked. “Sartes, you wouldn’t let your mother die, would you?”
For a split second Sartes was conflicted. If he went back, he would be forced to fight against his friends, against all he believed in, freedom, prosperity, fairness. He would kill those he loved. He would be compelled to destroy all he knew in his bones and blood was the truth. But if he kept running, the Empire soldiers might catch up with him still, and his mother would be dead.
He couldn’t live with himself knowing he was the reason his mother’s throat had been slit by the enemy.
As three Empire soldiers ran toward him, he lifted his hands in surrender, his gaze on his mother, the relief in her eyes as the dagger was removed from her throat somewhat comforting. But also bitter.
The soldiers forced Sartes to the ground, jerking his arms behind his back, binding his wrists with rope. They pulled him up and dragged him past his mother, her eyes filled with tears.
“Sartes,” she cried. “My baby.”
She started after him toward the wagon, her arms longingly reaching for him, fingers straining at his shirt.
A soldier hit her across the face and she fell to the parched grass with a yelp.
The soldiers threw Sartes into the cart with three other young men and locked the door.
“I will never forgive myself for this,” his mother cried. “Never!”
The driver whipped the horses and the wagon moved forward with a sudden jerk. Sartes’s mother staggered to her feet and clamped her hands around the bars, eyes filled with desperation.
“Come back to me, Sartes, promise me this!”
But Sartes looked away and would not promise his mother anything. Because of her, he knew, his life was over. Because of her, he would have to fight on the side of the war that killed Nesos, on the side that stole Ceres from him, and on the side that had torn his family apart.
CHAPTER THIRTY THREE
The wind tugged at Rexus’s hair as he feverishly galloped toward the palace beneath a blanket of stars, Anka sitting behind him holding on for dear life. August and Crates rode after them, their horses heavily loaded with weapons and gear hidden beneath wool throws.
Rexus hadn’t been able to sleep a wink since he found out Ceres was engaged to Prince Thanos, the thoughts of them together an inescapable torment. He had judged Ceres a liar and a traitor, and had never wanted to see her again. He had never even wanted to think of her again either, but every thought that had occupied his mind these past days and nights had only been of her.
However, after Anka had approached Rexus in Harbor Cave earlier, everything had changed. When she had informed him that Ceres was shackled in the tower and had nearly been raped the night before last, and that Ceres had refused to marry Prince Thanos, he had felt sick to his stomach. But when Anka had told him Ceres loved him – Rexus – and that Ceres spoke of no one other than him, Rexus’s heart had stopped, and he had realized with great remorse that Ceres had been nothing but loyal to the rebellion. And to him. And he had been a fool.
He swore, the pain too much to contain on the inside. He had been so hard on Ceres, had turned her away when she had begged to join the rebellion. And here she was doing nothing but supporting the revolution, fulfilling her job. He vowed that as soon as he saw Ceres again, he would beg for her forgiveness. This was entirely his fault, that she had been imprisoned. His pride had gotten in the way. He should have listened to her when she came to Harbor Cave, but like always, he was too quick to judge and was too much of a hothead.