Chapter 9
nine
. . .
Lirien
Freedom tastes like pine-scented air and sounds like thundering hoofbeats. I can't stop grinning as we ride hard through the forest, Dain just ahead of me, leading the way through moonlit paths. My muscles burn from hours in the saddle—princesses don't often ride at breakneck speed through wilderness—but the pain is exhilarating rather than unwelcome. For the first time in my life, I'm not running away from something, but toward something. Toward a future of my own choosing. Toward him.
The eastern sky shows the first hint of pale gray—dawn approaching. We've been riding since midnight, stopping only briefly to rest the horses and check our bearings. Dain promised we'd reach the border by morning, and from the increasing urgency in his commands, I sense we're close.
He reins in suddenly, raising a hand for me to do the same. Our horses pant beneath us, steam rising from their flanks in the cool pre-dawn air. I pull alongside him, following his gaze to the valley below where a river gleams like liquid silver in the fading moonlight.
"The Veridian," he says, voice low. "Once we cross, we're outside the kingdom's jurisdiction. Half a mile more."
The hope in his words makes my heart soar. We've nearly made it. In mere minutes, we'll be beyond my father's reach, beyond the betrothal, beyond the suffocating weight of royal obligation.
"Then what are we waiting for?" I nudge my horse forward, eager to claim our freedom.
His hand shoots out, grabbing my reins. "Wait." His voice has changed, tension threading through it. "Listen."
I still, straining my ears. At first, I hear nothing beyond the usual forest sounds—wind through branches, distant birdsong, the soft nickering of our tired mounts. Then it comes to me—the faint but unmistakable rhythm of hoofbeats. Multiple horses, moving fast, coming our way.
"Palace guard?" I whisper, fear clutching at my throat.
Dain's expression hardens. "Yes. They've found our trail sooner than I expected." He scans the terrain rapidly, the soldier in him calculating odds and options. "We make for the river. If we can cross before they catch us, we still have a chance."
He wheels his horse around, spurring it toward a narrow trail that descends steeply through the trees. I follow close behind, ducking low branches, heart hammering in my chest. The pursuing hoofbeats grow louder with each passing minute—they're gaining on us.
My horse stumbles on the uneven ground, nearly sending me over its head. Dain glances back, concern flashing across his face.
"Stay close!" he calls over his shoulder. "The trail widens ahead."
We emerge from the densest part of the forest into a clearing that slopes gently toward the riverbank. The water flows swift and dark, perhaps twenty yards across. Freedom waits on the other side, tantalizingly close.
Dain pulls up sharply, cursing under his breath. I follow his gaze and my heart plummets.
Royal guards—four of them on horseback, wearing the distinctive blue and silver of the palace—block our path to the river. They must have split their forces, circling ahead while others pursued us from behind. A perfect trap.
"Princess Lirien." The lead guard inclines his head respectfully, as if this were a chance meeting in the palace corridors rather than a desperate pursuit through the wilderness. "Your father commands your immediate return."
Dain shifts his horse slightly, positioning himself between me and the guards. I recognize them all—men he's trained with, fought beside, commanded. Men who now look at him with a mixture of pity and condemnation.
"The princess is not returning to the palace," Dain says, his voice deceptively calm. "Lower your weapons and stand aside."
The lead guard—Sergeant Thorne, I recall—sighs heavily. "Don't make this harder than it needs to be, Vorex. The king is willing to be merciful if she returns unharmed."
"And what of Captain Vorex?" I demand, moving my horse forward until I'm beside Dain rather than behind him. "What mercy does my father offer him?"
Thorne's hesitation tells me everything. There will be no mercy for Dain. The man who kidnapped the crown princess—never mind that I went willingly—will face execution.
"That's what I thought." I straighten in my saddle, summoning every ounce of royal authority I possess. "I order you to stand down, Sergeant. I am not being abducted. I am choosing to leave."
"I'm sorry, Your Highness." Genuine regret colors his tone. "But our orders come from the king himself. We cannot disobey."
Behind us, the sound of approaching horses grows louder. The rest of the pursuers will be upon us within minutes, cutting off our last escape route.
"We can still make the river," Dain murmurs, his eyes never leaving the guards before us. "But I'll have to clear a path."
I understand immediately what he means. He will fight—four against one, with more on the way. Impossible odds, even for a soldier of his caliber.
"No." I clutch his arm. "There must be another way."
He turns to me then, and the tenderness in his expression nearly breaks me. "Trust me, Lirien. I will get you across that river if it's the last thing I do."
Before I can respond, he wheels his horse toward the guards, drawing his sword in one fluid motion. "Last chance," he calls to them. "Stand aside."
Thorne shakes his head sadly, signaling his men to spread out. They draw their weapons—swords gleaming dully in the pre-dawn light. Not the lethal efficiency of a battlefield formation, but a half-hearted perimeter that betrays their reluctance to fight their former captain.
"Take her unharmed," Thorne orders. "Subdue Vorex if possible."
If possible. The qualifier speaks volumes. They know what Dain is capable of, know that "subduing" him will likely cost lives.
Dain doesn't wait for them to make the first move. He kicks his horse forward, sword flashing as he charges directly at the weakest point in their line—the youngest guard, who hesitates fractionally too long.
Steel meets steel with a sound that slices through the morning air. The young guard goes down, disarmed but not seriously injured, as Dain's horse pushes through the gap in their formation.
"Ride for the river!" he shouts to me, already engaged with a second guard who swings wildly at his exposed back.
I spur my horse forward, aiming for the opening Dain has created. One of the remaining guards moves to intercept me, but Dain is there somehow, his blade a silver blur that forces the man to defend himself instead of blocking my path.
I break through their line, galloping toward the riverbank, the sounds of combat ringing in my ears. I reach the water's edge and pull up, turning to look back.
What I see freezes the blood in my veins.
Dain fights like a man possessed, keeping all four guards at bay, preventing any of them from pursuing me. But he's outnumbered, and as I watch, Thorne manages to slice across his thigh. Blood darkens the fabric of his pants, but Dain barely seems to notice, pressing his attack with undiminished ferocity.
"Dain!" I scream, unable to help myself.
He glances toward me, a split-second lapse in concentration. It's enough for another guard to land a blow—this one to his shoulder, making him grunt in pain.
I cannot leave him. I will not.
I turn my horse back toward the fray, drawing the small dagger Dain insisted I carry. I have no illusions about my fighting ability—princesses learn statecraft, not swordplay—but I cannot watch him die for me.
"Princess, go!" Dain roars when he sees me approaching. "Cross the river!"
I ignore him, charging toward the nearest guard, my dagger raised in what must look like a pathetic threat. The guard turns, surprise written across his face at the sight of the crown princess bearing down on him with a weapon.
His hesitation gives Dain the opening he needs. With a vicious swing, he disarms the man, then wheels his horse around to engage Thorne, who presses forward relentlessly.
"Lirien, for God's sake, RUN!" Dain's voice cracks with desperation.
More hoofbeats thunder through the trees—the rest of the pursuit catching up. Within moments, we'll be hopelessly outnumbered.
I open my mouth to respond when sudden pain explodes across my temple. One of the guards, seeing me as the easier target, has struck me with the flat of his blade. Not hard enough to cause serious injury, but enough to disorient me. I sway in the saddle, the world spinning sickeningly around me.
Through blurred vision, I see Dain's face transform. Gone is the controlled soldier, replaced by something feral and terrifying. He abandons all defensive posture, charging directly at the man who struck me with such violence that both horses rear in alarm.
His sword arcs down in a killing blow that only Thorne's desperate intervention prevents from splitting the guard's skull. Even so, the man goes down hard, unconscious or worse.
"Don't touch her!" Dain roars, his voice barely human. "I'll kill any man who lays a hand on her!"
He fights like a demon now, heedless of his own safety, driven by rage and desperation. Blood streams from the wound in his thigh, from a new cut along his arm, from a gash on his forehead. But he doesn't slow, doesn't yield, his only goal to keep the guards away from me.
My vision clears in time to see reinforcements burst from the trees—six more palace guards, weapons drawn, faces grim. Ten against one. Impossible odds, even for Dain Vorex.
"Enough!" I cry, finding my voice at last. "Stop this madness!"
To my surprise, the guards hesitate, conditioned to obey royal commands. Dain doesn't. He uses their momentary distraction to disable another opponent, sending the man sprawling from his saddle with a well-placed blow.
Thorne signals to the newcomers, who spread out to surround us. "Stand down, Vorex," he calls. "It's over. Don't throw your life away."
"My life was forfeit the moment I chose her," Dain responds, blood dripping from his blade. "But I'll take as many of you with me as I can before I fall."
"NO!" I urge my horse forward, placing myself between Dain and the advancing guards. "No more bloodshed. These men are following orders, just as you once did."
Dain's eyes burn with terrible resolve. "Move aside, Lirien."
"I will not." I meet his gaze steadily. "I will not watch you die for me."
"Better to die fighting for what matters than live serving what doesn't." His voice softens despite the harshness of his words. "Please, go. Cross the river. I'll hold them as long as I can."
The selflessness of his plea breaks something inside me. This man—this brave, stubborn, impossible man—is willing to sacrifice everything to give me freedom. A freedom that means nothing without him.
"I'm not leaving you." I reach out, my fingers brushing his blood-streaked hand. "If I return to the palace, I return with you beside me."
Confusion crosses his face. "They'll execute me the moment we're back inside the walls."
"No." I straighten in my saddle, turning to face the guards who have paused, uncertain how to proceed. "They will not harm the man I love. The man I choose to stand beside me. Not if they wish me to cooperate with anything ever again."
Thorne exchanges glances with his men, clearly weighing the situation. Finally, he speaks. "Princess, our orders are to return you to the palace. The king will decide Captain Vorex's fate."
"Then hear me clearly, Sergeant." I infuse my voice with every ounce of royal authority I possess. "You will allow Captain Vorex to bind his wounds before we travel. You will treat him with respect as my chosen companion. And you will deliver a message to my father: if any harm comes to Dain Vorex, I will never—never—fulfill my duties as crown princess again."
A long silence follows my proclamation. The guards look to Thorne for direction, while Dain stares at me with an expression hovering between disbelief and awe.
"Your Highness," Thorne begins, clearly uncomfortable, "I cannot guarantee?—"
"You don't need to guarantee anything except our safe passage to the palace," I interrupt. "I will handle my father."
Thorne hesitates a moment longer, then nods. "Very well. Tend to your wounds, Vorex. We ride when you're ready."
The guards withdraw a respectful distance, leaving Dain and me in a small bubble of privacy. He slumps slightly in his saddle, the adrenaline of battle beginning to fade, revealing the true extent of his injuries.
"You should have gone," he says quietly, eyes locked on mine. "You were so close to freedom."
I guide my horse closer until our legs touch, reaching out to cup his face in my palm. "What use is freedom if I can't share it with you?"
His hand covers mine, turning to press a kiss to my palm despite the guards watching from a distance. "What you said—about loving me?—"
"Is the truth." I stroke my thumb across his cheekbone, sm
"Is the truth." I stroke my thumb across his cheekbone, smearing blood and dirt. "Perhaps the only truth that matters now."
His eyes close briefly, leaning into my touch. "Lirien, your father will never accept this. Never accept me."
"Then he will have to learn." I glance at the waiting guards, then back to Dain's wounded body. "But first, we need to tend to your injuries. You're bleeding badly."
He looks down at his leg as if noticing the wound for the first time. "I've had worse."
"That doesn't comfort me." I dismount, gesturing for him to do the same. When he sways upon hitting the ground, I'm there, slipping under his arm to support his weight. "Sit. Let me see."
The guards watch warily as I help Dain to a fallen log near the riverbank. He sits heavily, face pale beneath the blood and grime. I tear strips from the hem of my shirt—a princess rending her own clothing, something that would scandalize the court ladies—and bind his leg wound as best I can.
"Where did you learn this?" he asks, watching my hands work with surprising competence.
"I read." I secure the makeshift bandage. "Extensively. On many subjects not considered appropriate for princesses."
A ghost of a smile touches his lips. "Of course you did."
I move to the gash on his arm, binding it with similar efficiency. His blood stains my hands, warm and viscous, a visceral reminder of what he was willing to sacrifice for me. When I reach for the cut on his forehead, his hand captures my wrist.
"Enough. I'll survive." His eyes search mine, intense despite his weakened state. "Are you certain about this? About returning? We could still make a run for the river."
I look at his battered body, the guards surrounding us, the slim chance of escape. "And then what? You bleed to death in some foreign village? I watch you die knowing I could have prevented it?" I shake my head firmly. "No. We return together. We face what comes together."
He studies me for a long moment, then nods once. "Together, then."
I help him back to his horse, supporting him as he mounts with a barely suppressed groan of pain. When I'm certain he won't fall, I return to my own horse and swing into the saddle.
"We're ready," I call to Thorne, who signals his men to form up around us.
As we begin the long ride back toward the palace, dawn breaks fully over the forest. Sunlight filters through the trees, turning dew drops to diamonds on the undergrowth. It should be beautiful, this new day, but all I can think about is what awaits us at its end.
Dain rides beside me, straight-backed despite his injuries, eyes alert for any opportunity. I know he hasn't given up, know that he's still calculating odds and escape routes. But he respects my choice enough not to act on those calculations.
"Whatever happens," I say quietly, for his ears alone, "I don't regret this. Any of it."
His hand reaches across the space between us, briefly clasping mine before returning to his reins. "Nor do I."
We ride toward an uncertain future, surrounded by guards who were once Dain's brothers-in-arms. But for the first time in my life, I'm not facing that future alone. For the first time, I have something—someone—worth fighting for.
And fight I will, with every weapon at my disposal. Because Dain Vorex has spilled his blood to protect me, and now I will use every ounce of my position and power to protect him in return.