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She motioned for a handful of soldiers to follow Percival as they took off down the uneven path. Mounting their own steeds, armour clanking, their fear was evident, but they followed without question.

Movement caught her eye as the attackers collectively aimed their arrows at Percival’s retreating form.

‘Ready?’ she asked Elmrynn, slowly dropping a shaking hand to unsheathe one of her crescent moon blades from her hip. The small weapon was a welcome weight.

Elmrynn threw her a wicked, brutish grin. ‘Born ready.’

No matter how strained their relationship became after Ivan’s death, Areanel could always count on Elmrynn when it came to battle—he was born to fight.

As a black-tipped spear whooshed across the air, Areanel let her shield shatter into a million pieces, slowing its force and throwing it off its mark. Slamming into the forest floor with a resounding twang, the spear’s grip wobbled back and forth, and the red fabric tied around its handle set a new fire burning within her.

Areanel recognised the emblem stamped at its centre, and the weight of her exhaustion evaporated. Her once-glowing power turned into a blazing inferno—the same red fabric she had discovered after finding her youngest son’s mangled body.

These were rebels.

And Areanel was going to kill them all.

Chapter 23

Areanel

Shing!

The scrape of steel on steel had Areanel’s elven ears ringing. Inches away from her neck, Elmrynn had stopped an attack from behind.

Too close! That had been far too close.

There were more than two dozen attackers to their small group of soldiers, and more kept coming—from where, Areanel wasn’t sure. They were skilled; however, they seemed more comfortable with their bows and arrows than they were in close combat. They were too slow, their movements aggressive—relying more on direct, powerful strikes and not the precision for which Andrean soldiers were renowned.

‘Bastard!’ Elmrynn exclaimed, pushing the blade away from her exposed neck and forcing the assailant to step away.

They fought… if you could even call it that. The way Elmrynn hammered into the attacker made it more of an execution. Blood splattered his face and coated his hands; it even somehow found its way in the short, raven bristles of his closely-cropped hair.

Areanel tore into the rebels with ease and precision. Where Elmrynn’s attacks were brutal, taking his time hacking into each attacker, Areanel moved quickly, fighting like a demon. She slid in and out, dispatching the rebels in quick succession.

‘You standing there looking pretty isn’t helpful, Rea!’ Elmrynn shouted over the chaos.

Areanel had stopped to take stock of their situation. With every attacker they dispatched, another took its place. Areanel’s head whipped back to Elmrynn. Dumbstruck. ‘Did you just make a joke?’ Her tone was incredulous. She hadn’t known Elmrynn to have a sense of humour. Ever.

Go figure, it was slaughter that put him in a good mood.

Elmrynn didn’t bother responding. With a roll of his eyes, he turned with an annoyed huff, slamming his broadsword into an advancing rebel’s chest. The sound of him penetrating flesh and bone tore through the havoc.

Killing his attacker and, by the looks of it, enjoying every second, Areanel noted how he was entirely merciless when cutting them down. Bile churned in the pit of her stomach at the sight of organs spilling from his gut and his severed arm. Everyone knew that the way Elmrynn fought was nothing less than barbaric.

Considering their numbers, dealing with this monster would be difficult… but not impossible. Areanel formulated a plan as she deflected another attack.

The closer their assailants got, the sloppier and more uncoordinated they became.

Yes, they were archers, not fighters.

Which meant they were more comfortable with long distance. Areanel could use that to her advantage.

Firing arrows from the top of the slope, hidden within trees, the rebels had not thought they would be in close combat. Did they have a specific target? Had they hoped they would shoot them and leave, not having to involve themselves in close combat? A million questions ran rampant in Areanel’s head as she advanced on those armed with nearly-empty quivers, leaving Elmrynn with the ones carrying spears. It was clear they were trained fighters, but going up against Elmrynn, they wouldn’t stand a chance. Areanel almost felt bad for the poor fools.

The four Andrean soldiers who had stayed with them stayed their ground at the bottom of the slope, holding off the rebels and assisting Elmrynn whilst Areanel ran headfirst into the fray. Adrenaline pumped through her veins as she rushed in between each attacker.

The torn red fabric wrapped around their person—on wrists, neck, temples, weapons—identified them as a rebel, fuelling Areanel’s desire to kill. With every blood-red banner she tore down, all she could see was her son—his cold, mangled body lying on the white sands of the lake.