“Valenden!” Bryn cried.
He thrust back his hood over his tangled hair, giving her a quick nod. “Now who’s saved whose life, eh?”
But his joking tone ended swiftly as his attention returned to the battle. “It looks like Christof’s rebels and our Baer fighters have the soldiers blocked off to the east. Saraj and Aya are preventing any escape to the west with their falcons, and Calista has the northern woods closed off. If the three of us can keep Carr and his soldiers pinned from the south, we’ll have them.”
Rangar drew his sword. “We can hold them.”
Bryn’s heart lurched into her throat. She’d finally caught her breath—easier said than done when one was panting and chugging like a runaway horse—and had turned around to face the enemy forces. The Mir soldiers were drenched with sweat, huffing and puffing under their heavy armor so close to the fire, and wielding their swords like men possessed.
“Bryn, stay back,” Rangar warned as the soldiers took the only open path available—south—which directed them straight at Rangar and Valenden.
Battle cries rang out as the soldiers clashed swords with Valenden and Rangar. But the Mir soldiers’ heavy golden armor weighed down their movements. Dressed in lightweight breeches and cloaks, Rangar and Valenden had more freedom of movement. Their Baer military tactics mimicked nature—swift like the wind, fluid like water—giving them the upper hand against the Mir soldiers’ more formal training.
“Aim for their sides!” Bryn yelled to Rangar. “Their armor is weakest there!”
As the Baer princes fought against the soldiers, a caw caught Bryn’s attention. Captain Carr had managed to grab Aya’s falcon’s wing. Though Hurricane beat his other wing hard against the captain’s face, he hurled the bird to the ground and slammed his sword into its chest.
Bryn could only watch in horror as the bird died.
“No!” Aya cried out from the forest’s edge, rage contorting her face.
Captain Carr, dripping with blood, pulled the dead falcon off his blade and swung around, breathing hard, until his gaze fell on Rangar, who was locked in swordplay with a hulking Mir soldier. Rangar’s back was turned to Carr.
Carr raised his sword again—he had a clear shot at Rangar’s back.
Bryn didn’t think; she just reacted.
She swiped a finger against the burning carriage, coming away with a streak of black ash. Bunching her muscles, she rushed toward Captain Carr and smeared the ash on his bloody cheek.
“Ana somna mortinya,” she hissed, tracing the death slumber hexmark in the air.
Captain Carr’s attention shifted from Rangar to Bryn. He clapped a hand on the ash mark. “What did you do?”
“The death slumber hex.”
The captain watched her in disbelief for a moment, then his eyes glazed over, and his sword dropped from his fingers. He collapsed like a marionette whose strings had been cut.
Rangar whirled toward Bryn, his eyes wide, his sword still raised. The giant Mir soldier lay slain at his feet.
“Bryn, are you all right?” Rangar demanded as he stepped protectively between Bryn and the fallen captain. “I told you to take cover!”
“He’s still alive,” she said between breaths, dismissing Rangar’s worry. “It’s the death slumber. He’ll wake in a few minutes.”
“No, he won’t.” Rangar drew a knife from his side and offered it to Bryn. “Do you want to slit his throat or shall I?”
Bryn’s eyes widened, but then she accepted the knife from Rangar’s hand. “I’ll do it,” she said grimly.
Rangar nodded. “Don’t let anyone tell you that a princess cannot also be a savage.”
Bryn knelt beside the captain. She didn’t want to be responsible for anyone’s death, but if she and Rangar were to escape, she had no choice.
I’m not like him, she told herself, willing her hands not to shake.I’m not like Carr. I’m not like my parents, either.
She straddled the captain’s comatose body, pressing the blade against his neck where his red scar already mapped out the cut mark.
“You willneverbe king,” she said.
She thrust the knife into his jugular, hacking her way through his neck. Blood poured out. The spell kept him comatose as his life drained away.
