I raise my hand.
Lightning answers.
A blinding beam of pure energy tears from the sky and hits the cowardly man. Mayah stares at the corpse beside her in shock, and then her mouth opens on a gut-wrenching scream that seems to never end.
Heads swivel in her direction.
Fuck, she’s drawing too much attention. I shove my sword through another rebel, heading toward her.
She’s still screaming.
“It’s the princess!” a rebel calls out. “Don’t hurt her!”
And then she faints—loose limbs, dark hair splayed across dirty snow. A skiesdamned easy target.
“Drazar!” the same rebel shouts. “It’s her! She’s over there!” Two men bolt over to Mayah’s prone body, slipping on ice and rain. They stand guard over her, shielding her from the chaos.
What. In. The.Fucking. Skies.
Murderous rage explodes in my gut, billows up my throat until I’m choking on my anger.
They’reprotectingher? Has Tundrayn allied with the Rebellion? Was the entire betrothal a fucking ploy to lure me and Faramir here and assassinate us?
Red seeps into my vision. The storm grows louder. Angrier. Rain pelts down in a fury, and I summon bolt after bolt after bolt, incinerating every rebel I set eyes on. I shout orders over the thunder, unsure how many of my men are still alive to hear them.
The two men standing guard over her are nonwielders. Swords raised in quivering hands, they eye me with fear as I approach.As they fucking should. I debate calling lightning, but they’re too close to the traitorous princess.
And I need her alive. For now.
I reach the two men, killing them quickly. Dark blood spills from gaping wounds in their throats. There are a handful of men left—none are mine. I summon lightning and kill them all.
The phantom taste of blood blooms on my tongue.
I roll the princess onto her back. She’s unharmed. Dark lashes cast shadows across her pale cheeks—she looks as though she’s sleeping. She looksinnocent.
Rage scorches through my veins.
I leave her in the snow and comb through the wreckage, retrieving what I can of supplies and food. I find a satchel with what appears to be her clothing. There’s nothing that screamslying traitorwhen I rummage through it.
The smoking skeleton of the prisoners' carriage casts eerie shadows on the snow, and I grab a few coils of rope from inside and head back to where she’s still unconscious.
I’m rougher than I need to be when I bind her wrists together. Not even a whisper of guilt—she was part of the attack. She had to be. Her and her father. The rebels knew how many men I’d have, where we’d be,whenwe’d be here.
There isn’t any time to bury my men.
With one final glance around the wreckage, I haul Mayah over my shoulder and head into the forest.
Chapter Five
Ittakesnearlyanhour of walking through the dense, snowy woods—thigh throbbing where a rebel rammed his staff—before the princess stirs on my shoulder.
Fucking finally.
“Oh, good. You’re awake,” I snarl before tossing her onto the ground. She sinks into the thick snow easily, and a dark part of me wishes it were unforgiving ice beneath her.
“What—what is the meaning of this?” she stammers, holding up her bound hands.
“You tell me.” I crouch to her level, glaring. One of my eyes is swollen, so I’m not certain how effective it is. “Who attacked us?”
