Chapter 4
Not willing to trust his sister’s safety to a handful of guards—no matter how loyal to the royal family they were—Ian spoke with his father and decided to personally travel to the port city. He would meet Meena and Sol and escort them back to the capital. Safely.
The four-hour ride required some preparation, and it was late in the afternoon before he left the castle. Tempted though he was to break royal law and ride out by himself, Ian brought two personal guards with him.
“Your life is in constant danger,” King Frederich had warned. “If both you and I are rendered incapable to rule, the head of the Council can step in and assume control of the kingdom despite any remaining heirs.”
And Gareth was the head of the Council. While Ian’s brothers had the enviable freedom of moving through Iseldis as they pleased, the crown prince was never without an escort.
But when Ian rode out from the castle, he was not in a party of just three. He turned in the saddle to glare at the fourth man who rode with him. “Did your wife not convince you to remain behind?” he asked.
Erich shook his head, which also shook the drooping feather attached to his dark hat. “Fortunately, she is far more concerned with my desires than yours.”
Ian turned forward to face the road. He would have to tell Aizel that she was no longer his favorite new sister when they returned home. He was jesting, of course. He could not fault Erich’s desire to see Meena safely home as well.
For safety and subtlety, the four riders all wore simple dark cloaks over their well-made leather armor instead of the recognizable gray livery of Iseldan soldiers.
They rode hard, trying to beat the darkness despite their late start.
But darkness fell before they were halfway to their destination. The heavily wooded forest closed in overhead, cutting out the meager light from the rising moon.
At the head of the party, Ian opted not to light a lantern, preferring to rely on his horse’s superior sight to stay on the road and avoid detection.
Occasionally, the trees overhead would clear enough to let a shaft of moonlight through.
They continued on in the darkness until Rowena, Ian’s horse, dropped a step in her steady gait. Ian bounced forward when she stopped her momentum, dancing on her front legs.
Trusting her animal instincts, Ian tightened his knees around the horse’s back to stay in the saddle while letting her come to a full stop.
“Do you see anything?” Ian whispered over his shoulder to Erich. Rowena shifted uncomfortably beneath him, sniffing loudly in the darkness.
“No.” Erich’s low voice came from behind Ian as he, too, brought his mount to a stop.
Ian kept his gaze on the road ahead, shadows shifting in front of him. His tired eyes could find no sign of anything amiss.
Rowena threw back her head, nickering in panic. Already tense, Ian leaned forward and centered himself over the shifting animal, whispering soothing words to calm her. He freed his right hand and reached back for the short sword at his waist.
“A moment of your time, my lord,” a cheerful voice rang out in the darkness.
Ian’s hands tightened on the reins. The voice had come from directly in front of him, but he still could see nothing. Rowena strained against her lead, snorting loudly and pressing forward. Trusting the horse to find where the danger was coming from, Ian relaxed his hold.
A scratching sound in front of him produced a small flame, crackling as it licked a torch.
The light revealed two hooded figures on the road ahead.
The one further back held the torch. A hood covered his face in shadow, and his long arm extended to the side so the bright light of the torch did not fall directly onto him.
The closer one, also hooded, was merely a shadowed silhouette in front of the dancing flame.
Ian blinked in the bright light, trying to make out the face of the figure who stood directly in front of Rowena.
The figure lifted his hooded head, staring back at Ian.
Ian could see nothing but a shadow rimmed in torchlight. He did, however, hear the sharp intake of breath when his attacker recognized him as the crown prince.
That could make this infinitely easier, if it intimidated their attacker—or harder.
Risking a quick glance to his side, Ian saw that he and Erich were fully surrounded.
An additional two hooded attackers had appeared behind their guards.
However, Ian had not missed the soft whistle in the trees to his left or the creaking of a bowstring in the darkness to his right.
These bandits knew how to set up a trap.
“Surely you have some coin to spare for the good citizens of Iseldis?” The voice came from the faceless silhouette directly in front of him. The bandit’s voice sounded young, but rough. Likely, he was obscuring it to hide his identity.
“And you would make yourselves out to be those good citizens?” Ian replied, not keeping the scoff from his tone. Rowena strained her head forward, stretching out her long neck and sniffing loudly.
“Of course not,” the hooded one replied, much to Ian’s surprise. “We are doing quite well for ourselves. It’s the old woman on the farm at the end of this road. She’s had her garden ravaged by soldiers, and her granddaughter is ill. She has no coin to purchase a tonic.”
Ian’s confusion at this unexpected answer was cut short by the sound of a loud crunch. He flinched, unable to contain his surprise when he was already on edge.
The loud munching sounded again. Right in front of him.
Chewing. A breathy snort. And more chewing.
His battle-trained horse was eating at a time like this?
Ian pulled back the reins, urging Rowena to step away from the stranger. “Drop it,” he commanded as though speaking to a dog. “It’s likely poisoned.”
“I would never hurt an animal.” The speaker’s voice was quick and defensive. He—well, it sounded more like a she—had also lost the forced roughness. She sounded distinctly more feminine. “It is just an apple.” She held up the half-eaten fruit so it was visible in the torchlight.
“Who are you and what do you want?” Ian asked, his own voice filling with unusual anger at the escalating strangeness of this interaction.
“We’ll only take half your purse, as is our law,” the woman replied. This time her voice sounded natural, but guarded. Something about it seemed vaguely familiar to Ian. “Although I am tempted to demand the whole of it as I know that would not leave you destitute.”
“You will take none of my purse, thief,” Ian replied. “But you will face justice for your actions, as is the law.”
“You can take the whole of my purse,” Erich called out lightly, speaking for the first time. Ian could hear the sound of his brother fumbling through his saddlebag.
Ian shook his head, not daring to look over his shoulder if it meant turning his back to the enemy. “No, do not give in,” he ordered loudly. They might be surrounded, but he, Erich, and the two guards were highly trained and definitely had the advantage over a group of bandits.
“Thank you, my lord,” the woman called pleasantly to Erich, ignoring Ian. “Your coin will be well spent.”
“I need more light,” Erich muttered. “I overpacked.” Ian could hear the sounds of Erich fumbling through his pack before he struck a flint. It didn’t light.
Ian’s growing panic dissipated.
His brother had not gone mad. He was merely biding time to light a torch. An excellent decision that would give them an advantage.
Pressing his horse forward, Ian twisted his wrist, lifting his sword so that it was aimed at the woman in front of him. “Unhood yourselves and we will take you in peacefully.”
The sound of another flame scraping to life finally came from behind Ian. In front of him, the shadows disappeared as Erich’s torch illuminated their attackers.
Ian looked down the length of his sword, ready to face the bandit in front of him.
But his entire body froze at the sight of her face.
He knew that face.
He’d kept that face locked away in his memories, untouchable even in his dreams.
But now she was standing before him, as real and as touchable as ever. He wanted to throw himself off his horse and wrap his arms around her.
“Robin.” His heart stopped with the word, unable to believe it was coming out of his mouth.
“Ian.” Her tone was short, as though she spoke to a stranger. She had already seen his face, had time to process the surprise.
“What are you doing?” Ian asked, his own voice rising in pitch.
“Ah, found it!” Erich called out behind him.
Ian heard more fumbling, the slap of leather, and the tinkling of metal coins.
“Here, take this.” Erich’s words were accompanied by the whir of something cutting quickly through the air.
Ian quickly leaned to the side as a leather pouch flew over his left shoulder.
Robin’s empty hand snatched the bag out of the air with ease, metal coins bouncing off each other at the impact.
“What are you doing?” Ian asked again, this time speaking to his brother.
“Thank you, Erich.” Robin’s face softened into a real smile, but her eyes remained fixed on Ian.
“You cannot steal gold from the crown itself,” Ian protested.
“It is not stealing if it is a gift.” Robin slipped the leather pouch under her cloak.
“You are breaking the king’s law.” Ian’s arm began to shake from the effort of holding the heavy sword extended in front of him.
“Perhaps the king should share his gold more freely with those who need it.” Robin dropped her gaze to the tip of the sword. She looked up the blade into his eyes, a small smile on her face. “Last I checked, I could best you with that.”
Ian pressed his lips together to keep from returning her smile. “I was a boy then.”
“And you are a man now?”
Ian frowned, his pride doubly wounded. “I cannot let you assault travelers on the road. Please do not force my hand to harm you.”
“I will not,” Robin replied. “Give Aizel my love.” She threw her final words over Ian’s shoulder.
Taking a step back, she raised a hand as if in farewell.
Ian spurred his horse forward, unwilling to let her disappear into the night without apprehending her, or at least talking further with her. Or perhaps pulling her into his arms as he had done so many times in his dreams.
No, not that.
He had not seen her in nearly ten years. The woman in front of him was a stranger. She had surely changed if she had stooped to robbing travelers on the road.
A bow twanged behind him, and before he could even register the sound, an arrow hit the center of his back, just between his shoulder blades.
His body fell forward and, for several unending moments, his lungs stopped working.
It did not feel like the arrow had pierced through the boiled leather armor he wore, but its impact was still intense.
He willed his arm to lift his sword so he could turn and face his attacker, but his body refused to move as he struggled to inhale his next breath.
Robin was a traitor. A criminal. He had been weak to let her talk, weak to let her surround him and lower his guard.
But his mind raced faster than the seconds that ticked slowly by. His wide-open eyes saw his own shock mirrored on her face as she stared at whatever enemy stood behind him.
She lifted her fingers to her lips and let out a shrill pulsing whistle, two quick sounds followed by a longer one.
She had not planned whatever had just hit him, but she seemed to be sending some sort of signal to her bandits.
Probably encouraging them all to run.
Finally, Ian regained control of his body. Inhaling deeply, he lifted his sword as he turned in the saddle, giving Robin full advantage of his back. He could not worry about that now.
From the light of several lit torches, Ian could make out an organized group of soldiers on the road behind him. Perhaps two dozen men. They were hooded and masked, unidentifiable. But it was clear that these were no bandits.
Their swords were well crafted, their leather armor expensive. This was a coordinated attack from someone—Gareth, most likely. But who was his target?
No one knew that Ian was traveling to port city that night.
Erich and the two Iseldan guards had slipped from the horses and drawn their swords, standing as a small shield between Ian and the incoming attackers.
While Ian appreciated their defensive maneuver, he did not need their protection when no one knew he was traveling here.
Perhaps Gareth was here for Robin. His letter that morning had expressed anger at the bandit attacks.
As another arrow flew past his head, Ian jumped from Rowena’s back.
Sitting up so high would make him an easy target for any archer.
He slapped his horse’s rear, and she broke into a run.
She would wait for him down the road or find her way home.
She was smart and had been trained for such an occurrence.
Robin’s two men, the ones who had appeared behind Erich, stood side by side with the Iseldan guards.
Ian heard the first sounds of metal meeting metal as the attackers pressed forward.
He stepped forward to help, as he did not want to get separated from his own men.
Gareth’s men far outnumbered his small group of four, and he doubted that Robin had more than two or three hidden bandits in the forest around them.
More arrows flew overhead, coming from multiple directions now. Ian hoped that Robin’s unseen comrades were covering them from the trees.
Gareth’s men poured around the small blockade that Erich and the Iseldan guards had made, approaching Ian.
Ian would not have time to reach Erich before they cut him off. He raised his sword, ready to defend himself.
The other one of Robin’s bandits, the one that had originally been holding the lantern, stepped to Ian’s side. He had replaced the lantern with a short flail, which he twirled menacingly.
Ian did not see Robin, but he had not had time to turn and look for her. Hopefully she had slipped into the forest to hide, though somehow he doubted that.
At least five men were nearly upon them. Drawing the sword around his body for momentum, Ian was preparing to make the first strike when the world around him went completely dark.
He swung his sword forward, hitting something in the darkness, and heard a panicked cry.
He blinked, pulling his sword back though he could not see it. Even with his eyes open, he could see nothing.
“You’re coming with me,” Robin’s voice said in his ear as an arm wrapped around his waist and yanked him backward.
For the second time that night, Ian found himself unable to breathe as all the air in his lungs was forced out of his body.
He landed on his backside but had enough presence of mind to roll and jump back into a standing position.
He had no time to decide whether Robin was helping him or harming him. So when she grabbed his hand in the darkness, he squeezed it back and followed her lead.