“How drunk was he?” Brevan asks.
“We went through three bottles of wine. He drank most of it.”
We’re silent for a while, then I add, “I don’t want to be alone with him again.” I’m surprised by how small my voice is. I clear my throat and pretend to be confident. “But I know I won’t have that luxury.”
“We should go,” he says. “I’m going to teach you how to kill a man today.”
Thirty-Two
The wine bottles are gone,and my bed has clean sheets when I return. I’m sweaty and sore and exhausted. Training with Brevan was awkward. Even though I think he believes me, he was distant. But the lesson was good. Better than good. I’m pretty sure I could actually kill someone now.
On the walk back to my room, I let him know I had a headache and requested to skip dinner in favor of sleep. I hope it is enough to keep Caiden from visiting. I am not going to be able to trick him again.
I fill the bathtub, then soak until the water turns cold.
Horses come charging into our village, the cavalry on their backs yell and scream. The men throw torches on houses as they race down the street. Shadows flow in their wake, wrapping around them like snakes.
Legionnaires follow, brandishing swords, axes, and knives. They run into buildings, dragging people out.
There’s so much screaming. So much blood. I cower in my brother, Felix’s, arms. He’s whispering something to me, but I can’t make out the words. We’re hidden, but we’re not safe. Any minute, someone is going to throw a torch on the porch we’re under, or they’ll see us and drag us out.
I’m searching for any signs of our other brother, Arthur, or our parents. They’re out there fighting. I know Felix wishes he was with them, but he promised our mother he would stay with me. At thirteen, he’s nearly old enough to join the battle. Instead, he’s comforting his eleven-year-old sister.
There’s another explosion and I bury my face into his chest. Felix pulls me tighter against him. After the ringing in my ears subsides, I look out again. There are so many boots racing over the snow. Our village is vastly outnumbered.
The streets run red as blood stains the fresh snow. Jana, the woman we buy our bread from, is dragged from her home by her hair. She’s in her underclothes, but they bunch up around her as a legionnaire pulls her through the snow, so her breasts are showing.
She claws at his hands, cursing him as he pulls her. When the legionnaire releases her, she grabs hold of his leg and bites him. He swings an axe, and it lodges itself in her skull.
I turn and press my face against my brother’s chest. I think I’m crying, but I can’t tell anymore. Nothing feels real. This has to be a nightmare.
My brother smooths my hair, then turns my head. “Watch. Watch, little warrior. Don’t look away.”
I wake with a start, covered in sweat. I look around, getting my bearings. I haven’t dreamed about that night in years. I pull myknees to my chest and rest my head against them. I’d forgotten that nickname. They never used it after that night. It was a piece of me that was left with the ruins of our old village.
When we were young, I’d follow my brothers everywhere. I begged to learn to fight like them. Sometimes they’d indulge me and let me spar with them with sticks. They’d call me a little warrior, and I enjoyed the attention they gave me. The training was fun. I didn’t understand that it was for a purpose. My father would scoop me up and tell me fighting wasn’t my job. That the men would protect me.
But he died the night of that attack. He left three young children and his wife behind.
My mother turned into a fighter after that. Determined to see a better future for her children.
I stayed in the background. Helping, but never picking up arms. What good did it do, anyway? My father was still dead despite his years of training.
Then I gave up on all of them when I turned my back on the rebellion.
Their deaths have to mean something. They can’t just be gone and forgotten. I can’t let that happen.
I leave my bed and pull a robe over my shoulders. I know how to kill the emperor. I just need to find the right weapon.
Brevan isn’t outside my door when I open it. Instead, there’s a yawning legionnaire. His eyes widen when he sees me. “Princess, is everything alright?”
“Yes, I’m fine. I skipped dinner and hoped I could find a snack in the kitchen.”
“I don’t know,” he says. “I was told to make sure you don’t leave your room.”
“I won’t take long. I’ll just find some bread or something, then come right back.” I smile sweetly.
“Don’t believe her,” a deep voice says.
