He faced the approaching mob. “So, they think they can take us out that easily, eh?” he growled. Turning to Hazel he commanded, “Get some of the others to help you get Agnes out of here. The Border isn’t far and?—”
“I am not leaving you here,” she interrupted. “We all need to go. There’s still time.”
“There is no time.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “I know you are strong, and I know you want to help, but sometimes the best thing we can do is get others to safety. I will hold them off with the other men to buy you time. Now go!” He gave hera gentle push, spinning her in Agnes’s direction. She whirled around to protest, but Connall was gone, shouting orders and organizing the remaining men.
Right, then. Time to get Agnes out of here.Hazel sprinted to Agnes’s side, and the woman caring for her looked up with fear in her eyes.
“How is she?” Hazel swallowed the lump in her throat from seeing Agnes in this state. She had to be strong. For Connall. For Agnes. For these people who needed saving.
The woman shook her head. “She’s alive. Breathing fine. But she is still out of it. I cannot get her to wake.” Hazel wished she had some of Slaide’s hartshorn powder.Damn it. Where is Slaide?She’d crossed the paths of many of the same people repeatedly as they bustled about, and he had not been among them. But there was no time to concern herself with that now.
“We need a way to move her. There’s a wagon over there and we can?—”
She was interrupted by the clash of steel and angry shouting of men.No! We need more time…But it was too late. The mob was upon them, and they were bolstered by the sight of armed villagers prepared to fight. Cheers arose followed by chants of “kill the witch,” even though the King had commanded she be brought in alive.
There were so many of them. The burn of the locket stung against her skin.
Swords clanged against one another, men shouting insults and grunting as blades hit their mark. Hazel watched as one man from the mob swung a mace, crushing the skull of a Larksridge man whose name she didn’t know, spraying blood and brain matter as he pulled the weapon free. And then he was charging toward the next.
To their right, a member of the mob was run through from behind by a blade, and he collapsed choking on his own blood.
She looked to their left to find a man heading straight for them with a dagger held high, screaming something inaudible as he ran. He was nearly upon them when his attention was drawn to something more pressing, and he let out a shout that was cut off as a hulking black horse and rider slammed into him. The man was sent flying, his body landing in a heap on the ground. A trickle of blood by his ear glimmered in the flickering firelight, and he did not get back up.
The horse and rider dashed into the woods behind what was left of Agnes’s cottage, leaving her to take in the carnage around them.
The woman beside her screamed, and Hazel spun to find a man atop her with a dagger pressed to her throat. Before Hazel could move, he drew his blade across the woman’s soft flesh, leaving a red rent in its wake. Her face twisted into a wordless scream as her life leaked out of her into a warm, dark pool on the ground.
He was standing over Hazel then, a malicious grin spread across his face as he took in the one thing standing between him and his prize.
Hazel reached for Sylvie's dagger, preparing to defend herself. The man’s eyes darkened as he laughed at her. And then she understood why as he unsheathed a broadsword she hadn’t noticed before. He was going to cut her down where she stood, and there was nothing she could do about it. He raised the weapon overhead in a two-handed grip, and despite herself, Hazel closed her eyes, preparing for the blow.
When it didn’t come, she opened her eyes to find the man falling over, an arrow protruding from between his eyes, another through his heart. Hazel spun to find the assailant and was overwhelmed with relief when seven riders in black stepped out of the black smoke like the harbingers of chaos they were.
And one of them was Wolf Mask.
Wolf Mask, the man who had only just led an ambush at Ravenhold. Wolf Mask, who had continued to spread terror around the kingdom. Wolf Mask, who saved her life not just once now, but twice.
He nodded to her, and she returned the gesture. Then he and his masked men were moving, charging attackers from atop their mounts, cutting them down and effectively pushing the mob back. They weren’t retreating, but it at least allowed her a moment to regroup. She’d made herself a target by protecting Agnes. She needed to grow a spine, or she wasn’t getting out of here alive.
She backed up, keeping her distance from her next attacker while still protecting Agnes. Another step back and Hazel tripped, losing her footing and falling to the ground. The relentless man seized the opportunity to corner her, and he pounced.
Without warning, another man dove in front of Hazel, their swords clashing and parrying the blow. As she came to her senses, she discovered it wasn’t just another man. It was Connall.
Connall and the large, broad-shouldered man were dangerously similar in strength and ability. The world slowed around them as sword connected with sword, steel sliding and grinding against steel over and over again.
But as quickly as it began, it was over. His opponent fell for a maneuver that proved Connall really was the superior fighter as he dodged a sloppy strike and sliced through the man with ease. When he pulled his sword free, Hazel was staring at him as though she was seeing Connall for the first time. Not in fear, but in awe.
He sheathed his sword and ran to her. “Are you alright?”
“Yes, but I can’t do this on my own. I need help moving her.” She faced Agnes and tried to pull the woman’s arm up over hershoulder, hoping Connall would set his desire to fight aside and just help her. When it became clear he wasn’t going to help, she turned on him with the intent of begging him to forget his pride long enough to drag Agnes to safety when the world was torn out from under her.
Connall was on his knees, an arrow protruding from his chest. The man was tough as an oaken battle shield, yet he’d been pierced as though he was no thicker than parchment.
Hazel screamed, though she heard nothing, felt nothing as she collapsed before him, her hands frantically trying to figure out how to fix what was not fixable. Nothing else mattered except her father’s lifeblood as it dripped from the arrowhead.
Connall’s face twisted in shock and agony as he fell to his hands and knees, gasping and clutching at the place he’d been struck.
She crawled to him, pulling him into her and cradling his head against her body.This is not real. This is not fucking happening.
