Chapter 65
W hile it had felt like we came to some sort of truce last night, that notion quickly died once we were back on the horse.
If anything, things between the princess and I only became more strained than they’d been yesterday each time her back brushed against my chest on the horse, or whenever my arms inadvertently came into contact with hers.
It was like she was trying to disappear, right here in my lap. Like she couldn’t get far enough from me—a sentiment I understood all too well at this point.
Between the scent of her shampoo, and the warmth emanating from her body, I was also resenting the necessity of sharing a horse.
Then there were the visceral memories of the sounds she made against my lips coupled with how she tasted, memories I wouldn’t be able to shake no matter how many times I tried to shove them from my mind.
I had been a fool for crossing a line we couldn’t come back from.
By the time we were close to stopping for the night, my arms were sore from keeping them raised in an effort not to touch her.
There was a line of villagers waiting for us as we rode into the small farming community. They stood in the center of the road, staring at us expectantly and I was no longer as concerned about not touching her.
Instead, I was ready to spur Maxim away from town and get her to safety.
Dmitriy and Taras’s hands were already on the hilt of their swords when a giant snowball came sailing through the air, landing directly on Kirill’s chest.
A familiar boy in a blue-knit cap stood with his arm still extended, his eyes wide as if he had just made a horrible mistake.
Kirill glanced between the snow on his cloak and the boy who threw the projectile ball of ice before letting out a booming laugh. As if it was the cue the others needed, several of the men leapt from their horses, scooping up handfuls of snow to throw in response.
Soon a war was being waged with a few traitors defecting to the villagers’ side of the battlefield. Dmitriy and Henrick turned on their fellow soldiers in order to lend support to the children, while Igor and Kirill and my cousins fought valiantly to defend Bear’s honor.
“You have only been here a few short months and already you have my people rebelling against me,” I said as I led Maxim around the skirmish. “This is a crime punishable by death, Lemmikki.”
“Of course it is. That’s my specialty, after all,” she responded in the same dry tone I had just used.
On instinct, I helped her down from the saddle once we reached the stables. Her breath hitched at the contact, her gaze never once breaking from mine.
The lightning that seemed to follow us everywhere crackled between us, a burst of static, another tugging of that invisible thread that tied us together. With a sigh, I removed my hands from her waist and forced myself to look away to sever the connection.
Because that was for the best. For both of us.
I should have been prepared. Should have seen the signs of the Besklanovvy before they were surrounding us. Should have known that the tension in the air was stemming from a place far different and far more dangerous than the princess in my lap.
But when Igor fell from his saddle, blood pooling from a wound at his temple, I couldn’t even begin to see past anything but her and my desperation to keep her safe.
“No!” she cried out as she stared in horror at Igor’s unmoving body.
That one word echoed off the hillside, echoed through me, as all hell broke loose. All I could think about was getting her out of danger, getting her away before her blood stained the snow the same color as her hair.
But there was no escape. Not by the road, at least, and the hills were too steep and too covered in ice to offer an alternative. We were completely surrounded, and there was nothing to do but fight our way out.
“ Der’mo .” The word hissed past my lips as I took in the shining spears and shields of our enemies.
My thoughts raced, each one coming in time with my rapid pulse and the spike of adrenaline coursing through me.
Any tool in the hand of a trained-soldier was a threat, let alone true weapons forged for the very purpose of warfare.
Who in the storms-damned-hell had armed them?
Kirill, Henrick, and Dmitriy were already off their mounts, losing their advantage of fighting from horseback. I bit out another curse as I took in Igor’s body once again, and the protective stance Dmitriy and Henrick had taken around him.
Yuriy and Taras were battling side by side, taking on nearly six men all together. I didn’t want to leave Rowan, but every second I hesitated could cost me their lives as well as hers.
Out of options, I raced toward the men who were most outnumbered, carefully positioning my horse between the hillside and where I would be fighting.
I quickly unsheathed the rapier at my back and handed it to Rowan before leaping from the saddle. Then I met the piercing green gaze of the princess. Another heartbeat passed while I told myself this was the best plan. She would be safe here, armed and wedged between the hillside and my men.
It would be enough. It had to be enough.
With that thought in mind, I raced toward Dmitriy to take on the men at his back. There was no more thinking, only the clashing of steel and the grunts of pain as each blow landed.
It had taken me less than a minute to jump into the fray, but that minute had already given the Besklanovvy another advantage, one I was more than ready to make up for.
Again and again, I brought down my sword through the men who dared to challenge us. It didn’t matter how many surrounded me, or that their weapons had a better reach, I dodged and weaved and parried my way closer, moving faster than I ever had before.
As much as I hated my role in my father’s reign of terror, he had molded me into a weapon. He had sharpened my edges with all the care a bladesmith would give his finest sword. And I used every ounce of that mastery to fight my way through the Unclanned.
With each drop of blood I spilled, I craved even more.
Every man I killed meant one less bastard who could hurt her .
Seconds passed, or maybe hours before I saw Rowan move in my periphery. My stomach lurched. Don’t do it, Lemmikki…
She was still wounded, the scars on her back too fresh to allow her the movement she needed to fight and protect herself. But that didn’t matter. Adrenaline was fueling her forward, toward Kirill who was down, a spear lodged in his leg. He howled in pain, using his swords like a crutch to help him stand back up.
I parried away another spear, kicking my opponent in the chest to throw him off center before slicing off his arm. His face paled as he stared down at the place where his hand used to be. I slit his throat before he could even scream.
I adjusted my stance to get a better view of Rowan and Kirill, while continuing to battle. She was a flash of scarlet and steel, bringing her sword down on one of Kirill’s attackers with a furious strike, before circling back to help tend to his wound.
I dodged out of the way just as a blood-stained spear entered my blind spot, skimming across my arm and tearing the fabric of my uniform.
Then I slashed at the spear-wielder’s chest before doing the same to his face. He let out a startled howl before dropping his weapon and I used the opportunity to spear his gut with the tip of my broadsword.
Then I was rounding on another attacker.
My stomach dropped as I turned just in time to see Dmitriy fall.
No.
He sank to the ground, blood spilling from his lips as he held the gaping wound at his neck. Red seeped through his fingers.
No.
I lunged forward in an attempt to save him from the next blow, all but forgetting about the man I’d been fighting. Dmitriy’s eyes locked onto mine, his lips parting but no words came out.
Too late I realized the warning he was trying to convey. A blade pierced my side, causing me to falter long enough for the Unclanned bastard to finish Dmitriy off.
With a growl, I ran my sword through the aalio’s groin, twisting for good measure. I kicked him off of my blade and brought it across his neck next, just like his fellow Unclanned had done to my friend.
He let out a strangled cry as he choked on his own blood.
I snapped my attention back to Dmitriy. He wasn’t moving. A sea of crimson melted the snow he’d fallen in, his brown eyes wide and unblinking.
My ears were ringing. The sound of shouting and clashing steel faded to a distant hum in the background as I stared down at the man who had been more of a father to me than my own had ever been.
Images flitted through my mind, a carousel of memories where he was pulling me from the darkness that was always threatening to drown me.
I didn’t register moving after that. Pain lanced through my side as my sword sailed through the air. Distantly I heard the sound of the dying. The sound of my blade hitting theirs. The wind howling around us.
And then there was a flash of red at my left and everything came back into focus with a startling clarity.
My feral princess charged into view, sword raised, murder in her eyes. She used all of her strength to bring her rapier down across the back of one of the men I was fighting.
He dropped to his knees just before she plunged that same sword into his stomach.
All attention was suddenly on her, and the remaining Unclanned changed their targets. Fury swelled within me as I used the hilt of my sword to render one of them unconscious.
I needed to keep someone alive to answer all the questions that were swirling in my mind. It had only been a suspicion before, but now I knew for a fact that they were targeting her. I just didn’t know why.
I would find out though, just as soon as I painted the rest of this hillside red with blood.