Chapter 22 #2
At the same time, Rian lunges at the gate again, trying to get his bound hands through the bars to grab Gaez. Mallik acts fast, turning the crossbow on Rian.
Kendan dives forward to grab Rian by the scruff and haul him out of range. It all happens fast. To most people, it would be a blur, but my senses let me see everything in painstaking detail.
Mallik grins wickedly as his eyes dart from Rian to Kendan—then swings the crossbow to target the elder brother instead.
“Fuck!” I shout, slamming my elbow into Rian, which causes him to tumble sidewise into Kendan, knocking Kendan out of the crossbow’s primary trajectory.
Instead of hitting his heart, it lodges in his right shoulder instead.
Kendan drops to one knee, clutching his arm, grimacing in pain—but he’s a trained soldier, too. He knows how to take a hit. And he’s smart enough not to lean against the gates for support, where he’d get a knife in his side.
“Kendan?” Rian’s voice rises an octave. “Brother!” He drops to his knee.
“The Lord of the Iron Banner is injured!” one of our soldiers yells, and from one breath to the next, everyone has a weapon at the ready.
Fuuuuck, I think to myself. This was not supposed to go down like this.
“Hold!” I shout, lifting my hand to command the soldiers not to attack through the gate. Once fighting starts, I know, it won’t stop until half of us are dead. “Hold, by order of your king! Archers, at the ready. Swordsman, get into position.”
The soldiers stir at the command; it’s been years since they had clear military leadership, if not decades, other than to march in parades.
But they quickly fall into step, taking up the positions.
Gods, they almost look…inspired.
“Now listen, you bastards.” I draw my sword and thrust it in the Cold Coins’ direction.
“I’ll give you to the count of three to seriously rethink your plan going forward.
Until now, you’ve been stray dogs loose in the city.
But the fae have risen, and they’ll be in our kingdom faster than you can fuck a whore.
I’m here now, and I’m done playing games. Surrender.”
The Cold Coins don’t bat an eye to hear such language from a king. Gaez merely uses his short sword to scratch an itch on his chin as he belches out a bubble of cheap brandy. “I’ll take my chances with the fae rather than bow a knee to the likes of Wolf Bowborn.”
A silent groan rattles in my chest.
So, he wants to do this the hard way? Well, fuck it. When has it ever not been the hard way?
I mentally scan through my assets in the courtyard, from the number of soldiers to the weaponry to the horses, ready to give a formation command.
When…
“You bowed to me, asshole, under penalty of death. Remember that?” Rian’s voice cuts like a knife. There’s a layer of playfulness, the Valvere charm, but beneath it, all I hear is pure seething fury.
I know what happens when Rian uses that tone.
“Fuck,” I bite out, whipping around toward where Rian crouches on the ground next to his wounded brother.
Rian is crouched, making himself look small, but I see the glint of metal in his fist.
It’s the crossbow bolt from Kendan’s shoulder.
I step forward to stop him from doing something stupid, but I’m not fast enough.
Rian raises his bound fists, the bolt hidden between his fingers, and throws it with perfect, calculated aim.
It zips through the bars to spear Boone so deep in his left eye that the man staggers back, garbles, and falls down.
Dead.
For a second, no one moves. This was…unexpected. Hell, I knew Rian’s aim was good, but I didn’t know it was that good.
Everyone else seems to process what happened at the same time I do, and chaos erupts.
The remaining two Cold Coins shout to their men to fire arrows at us. A few sentinels—those loyal to the Cold Coins—nock arrows and take aim, but most stand stunned, unmoving.
“You heard me, you bastards!” Mallik shouts. “Fire!”
Now, even the few loyal to them seem to have second thoughts.
That’s all I need to see. I whip around to my own troops and give the order.
“Archers, hold! Guards, roll back the gates. Infantry, prepare to surround the traitors!”
To their credit, none of my troops hesitate at my command. They rush to roll back the gates and flood into the street with swords raised, shouting for the sentinels to surrender. It fills me with a feeling I don’t know how to handle.
I’ve never led before—I’ve certainly never been followed.
The air crackles, ready to ignite, as the soldiers face one another. One wrong move, I know, and full-on war will erupt.
So, I raise my sword at the opposing army.
“Lay down your weapons! You will be pardoned. But if you choose to strike my men, there will be no mercy.”
My soldiers form a tight circle around them, shields and swords at the ready. They’re exhausted, untested, but there’s courage there. I can use that.
It seems to trigger something in the sentinels, too.
An archer in the middle of the crowd tosses his quiver to the ground and takes a knee.
A few murmurs of dissent spread through the others, but two more archers surrender.
Then, the rest of them fall like a house of cards.
Dropping weapons. Bending the knee to me.
“Cowards!” General Gaez spits at them. Sweat pours down his bald scalp, into the thick folds of his neck. With a grunt, he suddenly slams into one of my soldiers, knocking the man clean to the ground, and sprints off.
A few sentinels bolt too, fleeing along with him.
“Archers!” I shout. “Fire! Hunt them down!”
A team of my soldiers peels off to pursue the defectors. But they have a head start. Archers fire but miss, and Gaez darts around a corner.
My adrenaline is roaring, but my heartbeat is steady as stone. I snatch the squire’s bow, nock a quick arrow, and set my aim at the back of General Mallik’s fat head.
I let it fly.
It slams through his skull just as he rounds the corner. Blood sprays out of his mouth as he collapses to the ground. The other fleeing sentinels trample his body as they make their escape.
My chest heaves as I toss the bow back to the squire, who stares at me with wide eyes.
In fact, the entire battle zone falls so quiet all I hear is ragged breathing, as the prisoners and my men alike look to me, awaiting orders.
I wipe sweat off my brow with the back of my hand. “Round the prisoners up, get their names, and secure them in the city dungeon. And someone get Lord Kendan to a healer.”
“I can walk,” Kendan mutters. He pushes to his feet, clutching his arm, and gives me a nod. “Not a bad first act as king, Majesty.”
As he limps off toward the castle, my men move quickly to collect the surrendered sentinels’ weapons and line up the prisoners along the outer gate. From upper windows of the nearby shops and houses, I see citizens peeking out, as though afraid to dare believe the siege is at an end.
Dammit, it does something to me.
This feeling, is it…pride?
“Had to fucking steal my thunder, eh?” Rian’s voice snaps me out of my modicum of happiness.
It’s just me and him left on this side of the gate. I snort and punch him lightly in the shoulder. “Couldn’t let it be said that Rian Valvere had better aim than Wolf Bowborn. I have a reputation to uphold.”
Rian rolls his eyes, but there’s a touch of amusement there. This exchange…it feels so familiar it aches. Like old times. Sparring and riling each other up. Before Sabine came into my life, these moments with Rian were the only thing that gave me a single damn light in the darkness.
“So,” he says, holding up his bound hands. “Did I earn myself my freedom?”
“Hell no,” I say, hard and fast, clapping a hand on his shoulder and turning him back toward the castle, where his attic cell awaits. “But you did earn yourself that whisky.”
As I shove him forward, I can’t miss his chuckle—like old times.