Insurrection [On Hold]

13 Checked and Cleared

I know Nate must have another reason for doing this. A rebel leader wouldn't give up like this.

Nate's knife drops to the floor, clattering until it falls still, symbolizing the coming end of his life. "What do you want me to do?"

"Drop the gun," Damon orders still aiming at me.

Nate crouches down and places his hand on his gun in his holster. I hold my breath as he eases it to the ground. He rises. "That's all." He doesn't look at me as he holds his hands up.

"I don't believe him." Damon lowers the gun slightly. "What do you think, Grant?"

Grant's muscle twitches near his mouth. "The rebels' leader carrying only two weapons on him? Highly unbelievable."

"Just as I thought." Damon's eyes are wicked. "Raksana, check him."

For a moment I'm not sure if the pounding is coming from my heart or the door. "What?"

"You've searched for weapons on soldiers, haven't you?"

"Yes."

"So why are you questioning my orders?"

"Just clarifying." I approach Nate like he's a wild animal needing medical attention. "Sorry about this."

"No need to apologize. I had it done to you."

"Thank you for reminding me. I'll be sure to remember this is pay back."

He holds his hands up yet again. "I wasn't thinking it is anything but. What on earth were you thinking this is?"

"Shut up." I bend down.

Matthew gags. "Could you please refrain from so blatantly flirting with one of your captors?"

"Flirting?" Nate chuckles as I start patting the bottom of his leg near his boot and begin to work my way up. "Who said anything about flirting?"

My hands stop at his first pocket below his knee. My hands hit a hard lump with ridges. I unfasten the hook-pile tape and draw out a pocket knife. "Care to explain what this is?"

"I forgot that was even there."

On the next pocket I find a sheathed knife. "Really?" I draw it out, examining the sharpened edge with little ridges like teeth. "I could see forgetting the pocket knife but two weapons?" I pat his top pocket and feel nothing. On the other leg I find a rope in the bottom pocket. I hold it up by one end before letting it fall to the ground. "Planning on strangling someone?"

"I have quite a few people's necks I'd like to wrap that rope around."

I roll my eyes and begin feeling his sleeves. "I hope I'm not on that list."

"Sometimes I've thought about it."

I glare at him and he smiles at me. "He's clear," I announce.

"But, Princess, you haven't even checked the front of my shirt."

I face my father's soldiers. "You can check him."

Damon points his gun at me again, and I tense. "No, you do it."

The endless banging at the door has caused my head to ache. "Fine. But can someone stop that infernal clamor?"

"Certainly." Nate nods. "Men, everything's all right. We're having a nice conversation in here."

I begin patting his shirt, gritting my teeth.

"Sir, we must insist you let us in," one of Nate's men shouts, but at least the racket ceases.

"Absolutely not. The princess and I are just starting to get to know each other better."

My hands freeze. He looks down at me, grinning from ear to ear. I move around to his back and hit him on the back of his head. "I am your princess and you will refrain from speaking of me in such a degrading manner."

"Whatever do you mean? I thought we were having a charming conversation."

I pat his back. "Damon, on second thought, can you kill me now?"

"Oh, but Princess, you haven't even found the gun yet," Nate sings.

I find it. Right in the band of his pants. "You are a despicable human being," I say as I draw out the gun.

"Don't pretend you don't enjoy me."

Maybe I should just let them kill him and not risk everything to repay him. He winks at me. He knows I'm against killing anyone. But maybe I'll make an exception for him.

"He's clear," I say again.

"About time." Marco's eyes are on me—glaring. I shiver.

Grant finally lowers his gun. "How do you propose to get us all out alive?"

"Simple." Nate walks toward the barricaded door. "I'll tell them the king has granted me an audience."

Damon seems to mull this plan over. "Fine. Marco, Mathew, remove that mess." He points at the collage of objects against the door. "As for you"-- his hand reaches out and grabs me-- "you're staying with me." He pulls me toward him and wraps his arms around my neck. "One game from you and Raksana's head will be what we use for the next one," he tells Nate. 

I tug on Damon's arm trying to allow more oxygen to reach me. "Nate, don't you dare screw up."

The smile is wiped off his face and a serious expression takes its place. "Don't you have more faith in me?" He faces the door, done looking at me.

"Damon," Mathew begins, "don't you think it's suspicious if the Princess doesn't have a gun?"

Damon sighs. "Fine, give her that scum's gun and place it in the back of her belt so she can't reach it. But keep it loaded. I may need to use it on her."

I remain silent, clenching my teeth.

Nate swallows, his neck moving up and down, and he faces the door. "Stand down," he calls out. "There is not an immediate threat. The Princess here has so graciously invited me to have an audience with her father, the king."

Cheers go up, and Damon nods to Nate to open the door. He removes his arms from my neck but places a hand on my shoulder close to my neck. To the men out there they may see it as a protective stance, but Nate will know what it is.

Damon's mouth brushes against my ear. "I guess you being a whore finally paid off."

I don't allow myself to wince at his words, and I resist the urge to elbow him in the stomach, not wishing to give him an excuse to use the gun on me.

Grant takes Morse's body and buries him behind the desk once Mathew moves it back into place.

Nate looks back at me, his face tired. I give him a small, guilty smile, and he turns his head back around warily and open the door. Damon guides me forward. Nate's soldiers stand to the side.

I keep my lip from trembling as we walk past them, and I even hold my head high. I can't let the rebels think something's off.

I still have no idea how I'm going to repay Nate.