Chapter 5
The first time I hear the princess’s raspy voice is when she curses as I slam into her. It grounds me when pain explodes in my chest. I don’t need to hear a crack to know I’ve broken some ribs.
I struggle to stand, hyper-aware of the sudden lack of the princess’s warmth at my back.
The Apukispay and her unit charge into the chaos before me.
It’s supposed to be Kumya guarding the princess.
That was the agreed-upon formation. My orders are to be the first line of defense as the permanent unit covers their assigned targets, but it’s too late.
I’m the one standing in front of the empire’s hero. I’m the one shielding her with my body.
It’s my right.
I take another mimicry hit to my shoulder, but this one is much weaker.
A group of about twenty people teleported to the platform, but they must have run out of power fast after bypassing the mimicry blockers.
I’m proven right the moment I see four bodies lying dead, their hair fully white and brittle, falling off the scalp as if it were dust. They just gave their life to move these people across.
This is how I’ll win. I’m not a mimic. I can’t claim the power of our Guardians as my own, but that means I’m not dying from it either. The attackers have to choose between death to continue using mimicry or switching to hand-to-hand combat. I just need to wait until they run out of samay.
Another hit to the same shoulder, and I bite back a scream. I can take it.
I’m bracing for it, but another hit never comes. Instead, I see the air in front of me shift as if reality itself is warping. I know it’s an invisible shield, one made from Ave mimicry manipulating the air.
Half of the attackers break past the first layer of guards, but they’re worse for wear.
I smell the blood in the air, but I have no way of knowing from which side it’s coming.
It’s a small comfort to see the people charging for me covered in deep red wounds, most noticeable on their newly white hair.
Blocking the first hand-to-hand hit is as easy as breathing, though breathing itself becomes harder and harder through the searing ache of my ribs. Then it’s nothing less than an incessant beating. Three against one, making it impossible for me to block everything.
But if there’s anything I can do, it’s dole out some hits in return.
I feel pressure on my back, and that distraction costs me. A mace pierces the thick wool of my tunics on my weak side.
“Are you a gods-forsaken idiot?” I hear that raspy voice scream in my ear. I’m distracted again, lost in the realization that the princess is addressing me directly.
“Stay behind me.” I’m cut off by my own grunt as I shove my body into an attacker rushing from the left. Their goal was to grab the princess from the side.
I take down the three directly attacking me, but I can’t get my body to stop swinging, even as the motion around me dies down and more bodies litter the floor. The stream of people charging at me slows, but I can’t stop reacting to anything that enters my radius.
The princess is behind me.
The princess is in danger.
An arm reaches forward, a distant voice accompanying it, and I swing my mace straight at it and see bone snap in half.
“Don’t touch her,” I say, but it doesn’t feel like me saying it. Somewhere in the distance I hear my mother’s voice say my name, but it doesn’t feel like it’s my name. I don’t feel my body, not my broken bones nor my tender muscles.
I only notice I’m shaking when a hand curls around my shoulder from behind and stills my trembling.
“Sinchinrei.” That’s not my mother’s voice, but it is the one who brings me back to myself. That’s right. Sinchinrei. That’s me.
“Sinchinrei, stand down. It’s over.”
I do more than what the princess asks of me. I collapse.
I drop my mace as my hands splay in front of me to barely stop myself from falling on my face. My knees take the brunt of the fall. I might puke.
“Stay away from her, Princess.” That’s my mother’s voice.
“She is not going to hurt me–“
“We don’t know that,” my mother interrupts the princess, and even in my half-conscious state, I know that’s a mistake. No one should interrupt the princess.
“Interrupt me one more time, and I will make it so you cannot walk on these palace grounds again.”
All I hear is guards trying to catch their breath when the princess’s fingertips touch me for less than a second. Then, a firmer, full grip. Then, the princess wraps a hand around my arm and helps me sit up. Immediately, the pain that was so sharp seconds ago staggers into a dull ache.
I choke from desperately sucking in air.
“Stop wasting samay,” a feminine voice that isn’t my mother’s comes from above me. It’s familiar, but I can’t identify it. Samay. Life energy. The princess must be using mimicry.
“This isn’t a waste–“
“Yanami.” The voice growls.
The pain comes back, and I black out. The knowledge that I just learned the princess’s name eases the ache.