Chapter 76
Gideon
Gideon still recalled his first day as a Valiant Guard. The vow he’d made to protect the innocent. He might no longer be a knight, but that vow still stood.
“Where did that spear come from?” Gideon yelled, his anger palpable, so tangible he could almost taste it in the air around him.
Blade and Rebecka rushed to the male guvre. Fergus. The animal had a name. And a soul. And a deadly spear sticking through his belly—one that bore Benedict’s emblem.
Clarke and Cassandra surrounded him. Lulu let out a cry when she leaned down to touch her snout to Fergus’s barely moving chest, his pitiful sighs of pain. Fate let out a shriek like nothing Gideon had ever heard. A sound that would haunt him.
“Where!” Gideon yelled again.
Keeley grabbed his arm and pointed. “It came from over that way. Give me a moment to get a team together and—”
But Gideon didn’t have a moment. He had his anger, his useless blocking magic, and no care for his own safety. He took off in ground-eating strides, passing the gates, cutting through thorns, ignoring the way they sliced at him, the careless drag against his skin when he finally broke free and ran.
Ran until he came upon them.
Valiant Guards, five of them, loading up another spear, ready to strike. To kill. He’d once been one of them. The thought had never brought more disgust than it did now. He would retch, but his stomach was hollowed, his heart shredded.
“Which one did we hit?” a knight asked.
“Who cares. The king said to get as many as we could. Load it up again in case we see another.”
“You really think any more will fly into the air after that?” another asked skeptically.
“They’re animals.” The knight in charge laughed. “They don’t think like people do, you numbskull! Load it up!”
Blood trickled down the open wounds on Gideon’s arms and the few on his cheeks.
He felt the slices burn when he picked up his sword and ran for the knights with his weapon raised.
Cutting into the first one, he spun around, using the surprise to dispatch another.
The blade made a sickeningly wet sound when he pulled it from the man’s abdomen. He flinched, and the moment cost him.
With a cry, he fell to the ground, a sword about to come down on him—but a shriek sounded above him, and Keeley appeared, snapping the knight’s neck and swinging her blade into the other.
One remained. He didn’t remove his helmet, so Gideon had no way to know if he would recognize him.
It didn’t matter.
The steel of their blades clashed, and he grappled with the man until they both fell to the ground, rolling, the weapons flying away.
Gideon swung a fist, causing the helmet’s visor to lift, and he saw the face of a captain of the regiment he’d once admired.
A Valiant Guard he’d thought had earned the title.
But at the end of the day, there was nothing valiant in working for a king who hated his people. “You were a good recruit once. A promising member of the Valiant Guard,” the captain spat.
Gideon grabbed the dagger at his side, pulling it free and raising it high. Then he said with enough hatred to burn down forests:
“I’m a Malevolent Guard.”
The dagger came down.
But the satisfaction in the kill didn’t remain.
Because Keeley screamed. And everything went dark.