55 Rhona
Rhona
Rhona ran out of Maeve’s apartments and slunk through the early-morning, and therefore empty, hallways of Astrad’s royal palace.
She slipped past a group of Iron Retinue soldiers preparing for an early-morning guard shift and into the stables, searching
for her horse. Before she could ready her horse, Rhona heard the crackle of hay underfoot behind her. She slowly turned, dread
pooling in her gut.
“Sir Rhona Mayhew,” a knight she recognized as Sir Benjamin said, two others flanking him. “We’ve been asked to bring you
to Commander Bartholomew. You’ve been summoned for your next assignment.”
“Sir Benjamin,” Rhona said. “I need to run a quick errand, and then I can meet you all in the throne room.” She was sweating,
hoping they’d buy her lie. If they didn’t, would she need to fight them? Her own people? If the Iron Retinue was set on harming
her, killing her, did that mean they were her enemies now?
“Sir Rhona, we’ve been told to bring you in immediately,” he said, hand hovering at the hilt of his sword.
Rhona didn’t think; she just moved. If she thought too hard, she’d let them take her. She kept her sword sheathed, using her
fists as weapons. She didn’t want to kill these knights; they weren’t the real problem in the Iron Retinue.
In a flash she was in front of Sir Benjamin, her fist connecting with his chin as he moved to unsheathe his sword. The uppercut
slammed his jaws together, and Rhona heard teeth crack from the impact. Sir Benjamin crumpled to the ground, his iron plate
armor clanging loudly as he fell.
The other two looked at Rhona, fear in their eyes as she put her fists up in front of her. The one to her right pulled out
his sword, holding it in front of him but not moving, waiting for Rhona to make her next move. The other stood frozen in fear,
watching Sir Benjamin on the ground.
Rhona feigned to the left, as if she was going to dip in that direction to hit the other soldier. When he reacted and dived
after her, Rhona whipped her booted foot out and kicked his knee, the joint buckling in the wrong direction, bone cracking
as it snapped. He screamed as Rhona swung her right fist and connected with the soldier’s cheek. He fell to the ground, writhing
and screaming in pain.
Rhona turned to the final one, her knuckles bleeding and her heart racing. “I don’t want to fight you.”
The remaining soldier watched her for a too-long moment. Rhona saw him consider his choices before turning on his heel and
running into the castle. He’d be back with more soldiers, more people to try to take Rhona. She would be long gone by then.
She washed her hands in the basin they kept at the front of the stables and wiped her wet hands on her pants, the cold chill
of the air seeping into the now-damp parts of her clothing.
“Good morning,” she whispered to the horse that the Iron Retinue told her she wasn’t allowed to name.
“Let’s get out of here, shall we . . . Lady?
” Lady was a good name; it reminded Rhona of Maeve.
Her heart sank as she thought about leaving the only person who had ever been truly kind to her behind, leaving Maeve in this unsafe place.
The unsafe place Rhona had once thought couldn’t be safer. It had all been a lie.
Rhona hopped up onto Lady and trotted out of the stables just as she watched a handful of soldiers run out of the castle gates,
swords ready to fight her. She stopped, looking at them as they approached.
Commander Bartholomew strode beside Dr. Balet, one large and stiff body beside them. A lumbering, pale, unbreathing body with
cropped ginger hair. Behind them were a half-dozen living knights, and Rhona could see their confusion and concern as they
walked alongside the Soulless Knight that Rhona had once called Jack.
“It’s not too late to stop this, Rhona,” Commander Bartholomew called out.
Rhona was tempted for a moment. Would the empire she loved truly do something like turn her into a Soulless Knight? Then,
she remembered what Maeve had told her, the truth in everything she had said before. The Iron Empire had been manipulating
Rhona this whole time, and it made her sick. She locked eyes with Sir Jack, his stare emotionless and devoid of the robust
personality he had once had.
“I do think it’s too late,” she said before digging her heels into Lady and riding as fast as she could out of the palace grounds.
She felt the early-morning chill on her skin as she raced along the cliffside path, mists from the Dark Sea spraying onto her and Lady as the sun began to rise in the distance.
Rhona felt sick as she looked back at the illuminated castle shrouded in mist. The Iron Empire had lifted her out of nothing, and part of her felt as if she was betraying the cause that had made her who she was.
But if the Iron Empire was doing something evil, did supporting them make her evil?
If the people of Astra were dying to a Rot and an evil doctor twisting it further, didn’t she owe it more to the people of Astra to fight against it?
Her idea of knighthood for the past three years had been based on the idea of fighting for the right side, the Iron Empire.
What if the Iron Empire wasn’t the right side?
What if she’d never been on the right side?
Rhona didn’t stop, and she didn’t turn around. She and Lady rode until the path diverged, turning inland as she picked the
southward path, a frost covered sign reading Archport in fine, aged lettering. Rhona was still going to Corisia . . . but
not with the Iron Retinue.