The man knocks the dagger from my grip with ease. Rough hands seize me and lift me into the air, my captor throwing me over his shoulder. He saunters away, taking me with him. I kick out my legs and squirm, but it’s ineffective. The man tightens his grip around me even more.
“Help!” I scream.
“Quiet!” My captor yells, shaking me roughly.
My chest is heaving as I try to force air into my lungs. It’s difficult to breathe with this bag over my head while upside down. “Let me go!” I yell, my voice hoarse.
He laughs. “The king’s gonna pay heaps of gold for you.”
Bandits?Is that who is attacking us?
I hear swords clashing as I fall to the ground once more, my body bouncing and rolling away in the grass. Reaching up, I pull the bag off my head, my eyes readjusting to the light. Standing before me is Wrath, his arm swinging gracefully as the black steel blade slices the head clean off of my would-be kidnapper. The severed part rolls towards me in the grass, stopping as it bumps against my leg.
I turn my body and plant my hands on the dirt as I vomit up the contents of my stomach, unable to hold it down any longer. I close my eyes and silently wish this is an awful dream—one I will wake from soon. Opening my eyes, I face the unfortunate reality that it’s not a dream. Reaching out, I pataround until I find the hilt of a dagger. I close my fingers firmly around it and force myself to stand.
A man rushes toward me with a spear raised in the air, aiming directly at me. An arrow lodges directly into his eye, knocking the man to the ground. The spear tumbles from his grasp as Stanik’s horse tramples him. The archer readies another arrow in his bow, letting it fly through the air at another target.
I sprint in Wrath’s direction, desperate to get away from the chaos. Something wraps around my ankle, tripping me. I hit the ground again. Looking behind me, I see a bloodied man in the dirt who's missing a leg.
His lips curl up in a heinous smile, his teeth rotten and black, and the smell of decay wafts into the air. “Nighty night…Princess.” He swings, cracking me across the head with a heavy piece of wood.
Everything suddenly goes dark.
CHAPTER TEN
When I wake,the world around me is a slow-moving haze. My head throbs so intensely that I think my skull might burst. My breaths are ragged and shallow, each rise of my lungs a struggle. I slowly open my eyes, trying to swim toward the surface I’m trapped beneath.
My vision adjusts to the soft glow of the candlelight, allowing me to see clearly. I am in a small cabin with wooden walls. It’s a single room, with a small kitchen and stove. A small stone hearth warms the space around me.
Wrath sits on the edge of a bed, holding me close in his arms. My head rests against his shoulder. Sweat slicks his brow. A light smattering of dirt and blood coats his skin from the fight. Perhaps it is my head injury, but something causes me to reach up. My fingertips shakily close around the fabric of his tunic. It's as if a part of me refuses to believe it’s real unless I feel something.
“Wrath?” I croak out, voice hoarse.
“You okay?” he asks.
My eyelids feel heavy. “It hurts.”
He heaves a sigh, and in my current state of delirium, I swear I see worry etched into his features. I feel pressure against the wound on my shoulder. When I look down, I see Wrath pressing a cloth against my wound as he tries to stop the bleeding.
“How many did you lose?” I ask.
“Not too many.”
Liora launched an attack as we approached, seemingly prepared for our arrival. I could have died at the hands of humans, rather than Elvarrans. It was shocking to realize that my own kind turned against me. I would be dead without Wrath and his troops protecting me.
I see now that bloodshed is a cycle neither side can break. It endlessly spins like a serpent devouring its tail, willing to destroy for so-called peace. I saw the hatred in those men’s eyes as they attacked us. It is the same vitriol that greeted me when they hauled me into the Elvarrans camp that fateful night.
“I’m sorry,” I say softly.
He remains silent. The words likely hold no meaning after many years of war. There are storm clouds in his gray eyes, allowing me a glimpse behind his battlements. It’s a level of vulnerability I’m sure we’ll never show each other again once this fleeting moment is over.
“Where are we?” I ask, trying to figure out how long I have been unconscious.
“The town of Sinaia.”
“Weren’t we supposed to cross the Northern Alps?”
He nods. “We will, once everyone has rested from their injuries. We’re safe here. The humans won’t cross the border.”
