CHAPTER 32
Helena
Through the misty woods I walk,
Holding you inside,
And everywhere that I may look,
Shine all the tears you’ve cried.
The fault, I own, is mine to bear,
But little good it does me
When all my words are nought but air
And still my actions hound thee.”
The tune was unfamiliar to Helena, but she sang it boldly next to Alanna. Behind her, Laurent beat out a steady rhythm on a hand drum. Adrien doubled the melody on his violin, and Tucker played a few out-of-tune harmony notes on a wooden pipe.
Smiling at a young couple who passed, Helena took a step forward and performed a simple dance during an instrumental interlude. She swirled the baton in her hands, adding color to her dance with the ribbons tied to the ends.
The thought of her bow reduced to such a form still made her grimace, but Jean-haut had assured her that the transformation didn’t hurt the original item. It always seemed fine when she released it, but it was still...wrong.
Her eyes caught on Cap. He sat with his forearms draped over his knees, leaned up against the tiny mercantile across the road.
A beat-up metal cup hung limply from one hand.
Thanks to Jean-haut’s plant magic, Cap’s cloak was covered in patches and tears, making him look like an old, tired beggar.
But the scuffs on his boots were real; neither of their magic-users had the right kind of magic for leather.
The steady clip-clop of horseshoes approached from the west. Helena glanced in that direction, smothering a smile when she saw a group of blue-clad soldiers riding up the street with ten on foot marching beside them.
Each wore a sword on his hip and carried a strung bow in his hand.
General Valentin’s men were getting smarter, but it wasn’t enough to offset the combined skill of Le Capuchon and Helena Margit Dracovich.
Yet.
Helena executed a more complicated twirl, imitating something she’d seen at Axel’s beloved theater. The lead guard directed his horse toward her with a little smile.
“That’s some fine dancing,” he remarked with an appreciative glance at her figure. The weather in the valley was milder than she had grown used to in the mountains, so she had left her cloak off for the routine. “Will you be here long?”
Bobbing a curtsy in thanks, she replied in her best Amitian accent, “Only today, I’m afraid. The increased activity of Le Capuchon in the area makes my father worry for my sister and myself. He and my brothers are not skilled fighters, so we don’t stay in one place too long.”
The guard frowned for a moment. “I’m sorry to hear that he’s troubled you. But rest assured, he will lie low while my men and I are here. I’ve faced him before, and I know his tricks. His disguises won’t work on me.”
She did remember this man from an ambush about a month ago. But while he bragged, Cap struggled to his feet and stumbled away between the buildings of the small village.
“Thank you so much.” Helena gathered her eyebrows into an earnest expression. “I will sleep better when he no longer threatens our fair kingdom.”
She kept the guard talking for several minutes. At the end, he tossed a few coins into the upside-down hat in front of Alanna before leading his troop away.
Helena waited until they should have reached the end of town. Turning to Adrien, she said, “I think I need a little break, Papa; my voice is tired.”
Without ceasing his music, he glanced over at her and nodded. “Take your brothers with you. I don’t like the way that guard looked at you, and your pretty face shouldn’t wander alone anyway.”
She leaned in and pecked him on the cheek. “Yes, Papa.”
The approving nods of a few bystanders proved that they’d heard the exchange. Good.
Waving to Laurent and Tucker, she scooped up her cloak and waltzed behind the courier’s office. As soon as they were out of sight, they restored the normal appearance of their clothes, flung their cloaks around their shoulders, and jogged south out of town.
Helena had never dreamed magic could be so useful back when she was facing a sleeping curse.
Once they were out of sight of the road, they headed east. Cap had chosen a spot a couple miles from the village for today’s ambush.
Far enough to let them beat the guards there by running, not so far that they were worn out by the trip.
Add a few grass-covered boulders and deep hollows for cover, and it was perfect.
And General Valentin’s plan to harass the nobles loyal to Prince Raphael and the royal family would take another hit.
“Any problems?” Cap asked in a low voice, stepping out from behind one of the boulders. His cloak was back to its usual condition, but his bow was still in staff form.
“None. Are we set?” Helena asked. Lifting her baton, she whispered, “Lass es los.” It lengthened, shifting back to her beloved bow.
Cap gave a sharp nod. “Tucker, you’re up.”
The teenager restrained himself to a pumped fist and scurried over to the road. Cap turned his gaze to Laurent. “As we discussed.”
Their time was limited, but Helena took a step closer and gave his hand a quick squeeze. “Good luck.”
His lips curved as he returned the pressure. “May your arrows fly straight and true.”
“Don’t they always?” she returned with a raised eyebrow.
The curve grew, and then he slammed his staff on the ground before running across the road.
Helena watched appreciatively. Because of the fineness of his bow. Not the strength in his stride or the width of his shoulders.
Pulling her hood over her face, Helena jogged to the low spot where she would hide. She laid down on the foot-high dormant grass and pulled three arrows from her quiver, then put all three on the string.
In addition to moving targets, she had been working on trick shots during the last month. It wasn’t practical for the middle of a fight.
But it evened the odds when it was the first shot in an ambush.
Across from her, she knew Cap was doing the same. The showoff had worked himself up to four, but she planned to match him by the end of the week.
Tucker stumbled westward along the road, his left arm around his waist and his sword hanging from limp fingers. Most of his black hair hung loose about his face, pulled free from the leather tie in back.
Any minute now...
The sound of laughter drifted toward them. Sneaking a glance, Helena saw the guards from the village heading their way.
Tucker took one more staggering step and collapsed to a knee. He propped himself up with his sword, but his shoulders dipped toward the ground. The laughter turned to shouts of warning, and the soldiers picked up their pace.
As they came to a stop in front of him, Helena sighted along her horizontal bow and adjusted her arrows. The three horsemen farthest to the back on her side. One side, one hip, one shoulder.
She’d been queasy about putting an arrow in someone the first time, but remembering the guards’ actions against the people helped.
As had seeing them try to hurt her friends.
“Are you all right, young man? What happened?” the leader demanded from atop his horse.
Tucker lifted his head halfway. Enough to be heard more clearly, not enough to expose his face. “Was traveling—with my lady—” he gasped out. “Le Cap—Robbed by the bandit.”
The men shifted on their horses, making Helena grind her teeth. She moved one of her arrows a little.
“How far?” the leader snapped.
Tucker’s head dropped again before he put both hands on his sword and struggled back to his feet. “Not—not far. But he gave me a message—for the General.”
The leader leaned down as Tucker sagged.
“Set my people free.” His voice grew stronger and louder as he straightened. “Long live the king!”
At the signal, Helena released the string.
Her marks cried out in pain. Before the leader could respond, his horse whinnied with fright as a rope sprang up around its forelegs. It reared, and the snare pulled its hooves together.
The leader tumbled to the ground, barking out useless orders as his men scattered.
Helena rose to a crouch and whipped out another arrow. Half the foot soldiers had been dragged to the ground, one or both feet caught in a snare tied to a nearby tree.
Tucker laughed, using his knife to swipe a pouch from the leader’s belt. Dancing back, he ducked around the frantic horse and quickly sawed through the rope. He slapped its rump, and it took off.
“Form up!” the leader yelled. “Find Le Capuchon!”
Only two men were still on their horses. They drew their swords and charged toward Helena while three of the five remaining foot-soldiers turned their bows on her.
She put an arrow in a shoulder and backpedaled.
Another guard went down with an arrow in the back of his leg.
Tucker engaged the other, knocking the man’s bow from his hand and sliding his sword through his opponent’s belt.
The leather was too thick to cut, but it made the guard stumble forward.
Tucker grabbed the hilt of the sheathed sword and drew it himself.
The horses were almost upon her. Helena turned and sprinted for the nearest tree.
Behind her, she heard the ring of metal. Either Tucker was in another sword fight, or the soldiers who went after Cap had reached sword range.
He should have taken them out instead of worrying about her.
The horses’ harsh breath sounded behind her. Any moment now, she would feel the bite of a guard’s sword. Unless they hoped to capture her, which wasn’t an improvement.
Where was Laurent? He should have joined the fight after triggering the snares.
“Duck!”
Helena dove forward, launching herself into one of the rolls Tucker had taught her. A stinging pain bit her right shoulder as she went down.
Above her, someone cried out, and a body toppled to the ground as the horses galloped past.
She scrambled back up as the remaining rider turned his horse. Bracing her feet, she reached for an arrow, then looked down in panic when her hand came up empty.