When he was twenty paces away, he hurled the hand-and-a half-sword toward the white-plumed helmet of the captain as if it were a javelin. Thepower of the throw sent the sword straight through the man’s head, sliding neatly into the helmet up to the hilt, as if it were a hot knife sinking into butter.
The Prince felt his flagging strength and speed surge anew as the man’s life was added onto his own. Memories flashed before his eyes, but he blocked them all out except for one: which men were where in the squad.
He ran toward the left-hand column, which contained all four under-officers.
The entire group was in sudden disarray, horses rearing in shock as their riders turned every which way to look for where the sword had come from. Leah, eyes wide and staring as the captain fell off his horse right in front of her, was in the right-hand column.
A few men spotted the Prince and notched arrows to bows, letting out cries of alarm. He watched them calmly, his mind moving at extraordinary speed, and as the arrows left their bows, he simply ran between them.
And then he was among them, hacking, slashing, and cutting with the short sword, twisting past their blades with the speed of a demon. He leapt from the ground onto the back of a horse, slit a Defender’s throat, pushed off the creature’s back, flipped high in the air, and landed astride the horse of another under-officer. He pulled Leah’s dagger from his belt, severed the man’s spine, and then rolled to the ground and moved on.
Soon the sword and dagger were both coated in scarlet blood, and with each kill he grew stronger and faster. He was invincible, a whirlwind of pure death, a tool of absolute and complete destruction.
And then it was over. The horses cantered off out of sight, leaving the Prince alone with twenty-three dead Defenders lying on the ground around him. Leah had somehow managed to free herself from her bonds during the fight and roll to the edge of the battlefield. She was staring open-mouthed at him and the carnage he had wrought.
He knelt amid the bleeding corpses, his eyes closed, his body shaking. Every muscle in his body jumped and rippled, bunched and released, only to tenseagain. His breath came in short, harsh gasps, rasping and tearing his throat, the smallest particles of dust in the air choking him, the scent of blood and death so strong that he could think of nothing else. He was on fire with life; it filled him so fully that he felt he must explode, that he must die at the very moment when he was filled with so much life that he felt like a beacon shining across the world for anyone who cared to see.
The memories of all twenty-eight men he had killed that day pounded inside his skull, overwhelming his mind, coursing through him as real as if he had lived them. Images of childhood, the scents of fresh-baked bread and a father’s hug, hopes and dreams achieved and unfulfilled alike. Families, lack of families, lovers, friends, enemies, first kills, first loves, passion, hatred. Their fears, worst of all, always worst of all, buried so deep and left so long uncomforted that they were raw and bloody, brought out like a swarm of mutilated, deformed monsters from a dark cave, ready to devour him whole.
“Stop,” he begged, “please stop! I don’t want it—I don’t want to care about you! I don’t want to know you—leave me alone!LEAVE ME ALONE!”
His hands clutched convulsively at his head. He wasn’t aware that he had spoken aloud, wasn’t even sure who he was anymore. He was the Defender Bolin who had joined up in Lerne—he was Liam who had joined outside—stop!—he was Jimal, who had three children and a fourth on the way—
STOP IT!
He had no name to cling to, no identity. The Empress had taken it from him. He felt himself dying, submerged beneath all of the memories, all of the men he had killed—
Strong, slender hands grasped his head, holding him as tears ran down his face. He was clutched against a lithe frame that smelled of the strong earthy soap a giant named Tomaz made, and raven-black hair fell into his face, cool and feathery.
“Breathe,” a voice told him—a scared voice, but one with a thread of steely insistence in it that would not be denied. “Breathe. I’m here, princeling, I’m here. Be here with me, stay here with me. Breathe.”
He did breathe then, a long shuddering breath that burned his nostrils and lungs but helped to clear his mind. His own memories began to come back to him as the girl’s insistent voice calmed his racing heart, her hands clutching him to her chest, holding him tightly. He took another breath, and the memories retreated further. Another breath and his mind went completely blank, leaving him in silence.
“You’re okay,” Leah said. “I have you. I have you.”
And the rest was darkness.
Chapter Fifteen: Aftermath
The Prince woke to sunshine, warm and buttery like freshly churned cream, playing across his face. His body was swaying slightly, which seemed strange. He was relatively certain that one did not naturally sway when one was lying down, but then again he supposed one could never be entirely certain. He chuckled to himself. He sounded like Geofred. Who was that again? Who was… oh, well, there it was, of course: Geofred was his pet eagle.
Pet eagle?
He twitched slightly as he heard a voice talking to him in the back of his head. He told it to leave him alone; he could have a pet eagle if he wanted to. But the voice just laughed.
Wake up, princeling.
He opened his eyes and reality resolved into being. A face was peering down at him, black hair with green eyes. A few freckles across the nose. A strong mouth, curved in a grin.
“Leah!” he exclaimed. He sat up and realized that he was in a litter slung between two horses he hadn’t seen before, and Leah was walking behind him and watching him over the edge of the wooden frame. Tomaz was leading the horses down a narrow but surprisingly well-laid woodland trail. A third horse was tied behind the litter and was loaded down with most of the packs and supplies.
“Thanks for joining us,” Leah said.
“And I sincerely hope you don’t think your brother Geofred is an actual eagle,” rumbled Tomaz from up ahead.
The Prince rubbed his head, which felt fuzzy.
“I said that out loud?” he asked.
