I keep my distance but try to soothe her. “It’s alright. We’re safe in here. They can’t get to us.”
Something slams against our door, and she yelps, then folds in on herself. She’s balled up on the ground, a shaking, trembling mass. Her breathing is too fast, and I worry she’ll faint.
“Don’t worry,” I tell her. “We’re safe.” Tears slide down my cheeks, but I quickly brush them away. I don’t want her to see me upset.
It’s not the rebels attacking that has me afraid. It’s the sight of my best friend as a shell of herself. She used to be fearless, unstoppable. I thought she was getting better, but this must be sending her back to whatever it was she endured.
Another thud against the door sends me looking for the knives Brevan gave me. I’m not a fighter, but I will protect my friend.
Something cracks inside me. These are rebels. I’m supposed to be on the same side as them. Would I really kill someone if they came through that door? How could I do that? How could I turn my back on my own?
They wouldn’t know me. And if I told them, they wouldn’t believe me. Or if they did, how would I maintain my cover?
Another pounding on the door and another explosion. I set my jaw and grip my blades tight. Too tight, I realize. I loosen my grasp and hold them the way Brevan showed me.
There’s yelling outside the door, but I can’t tell who it’s coming from. Which side is winning? What if the rebels win and I can leave? Brevan would be heartbroken. But he also might be dead. I don’t want that.
The lines are blurring. I can’t figure out which side I stand on anymore. The emperor and prince aren’t here, so if I want to complete my mission, I’d have to stay. But Lee said to hold off.
My mind is a tangled mess, and my insides feel like they might explode. I want to scream. I want to break something.
The door shatters, and I turn and lift my arms to shield my face. Splintered wood slams against me. Three men peer over the chair that’s still in place. I don’t recognize any of them.
“Look what we have here, boys,” a middle-aged man with a gray beard says.
“It’s the princess. Must be our lucky day,” a younger man with startlingly blond hair says.
The third is a brunette who might still be a teenager. His face is full and round, not yet outgrown from his childhood. “Let’s take her back with us.”
I hold my weapons. “Leave us alone.”
“Oh, shit, there’s another one back there,” the blond man says. “Let’s keep ’em both.”
They climb over the chair and rush toward me. They’re making crude comments as they get closer, clearly enjoying my discomfort.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” I threaten.
“Did you hear that, Charles?” the blond says to the older man. “She doesn’t want to hurt us.”
“Then put your knives down and come with us. We’ll make it easier on you,” Charles says.
“I swear to the gods if you get any closer, I will gut you like a fish.”
The youngest man speaks in Iskvalandian, “She thinks she’s a fighter.”
The blonde man responds in rapid Iskvalandian, “She’s bluffing.”
They’re talking about me as if I’m not here. Telling one another that I’m faking my fight. That I’m supposed to be weak. I am not weak.
“Quit doing that,” Charles says. “You know I can’t understand what you’re saying.”
“You’re from Iskvaland.” My brow furrows. I didn’t know there were any rebels from Iskvaland. That would explain why I didn’t know them. Maybe they were from a different group.
I shout at them in Iskvalandian. “Leave me alone, I don’t want to hurt you.” It’s my final warning. I don’t want to harm them, but I want to live more.
Charles lunges for me, and I crouch low, then sweep my leg out like Brevan showed me. He goes down. I hate that Brevan was right about balance. Then I shove a knife into the old man’s throat. Blood trickles down his neck. He claws at it trying to pry out, then blood fills his mouth, pouring out the sides. His arms fall limp, and his eyes go glassy. His chest stops moving.
“You bitch!” The blond man charges me, and I try to yank out the knife, but it’s stuck, so I leave it and swipe at him with my other knife.
