Chapter 21 Knight in Shining Armour #2
Barely any stars dotted the sky, and six guards lay facedown, their breathing faint but present.
White powder coated the ground like fresh snow as Damien fought off two guards in his unicorn form.
The powder clung to his face and chest, but it didn’t appear to be affecting him.
He swung his massive head towards one of the men, his black horn slicing the air like a blade.
For a moment, Luna thought he would cut the guard in half, but at the last second, his aim shifted, and his horn punctured the canister they were holding.
He reared back, and in one swift motion, he sent the canister flying.
And then one of the guards flew through the air, landing with a heavy thud; he didn’t get back up.
Damien rounded on the remaining guard, who shook so violently that Luna was almost surprised there wasn’t a wet spot on his trousers or a little puddle of liquid by his boots.
Damien’s shadows surged through the air, moving like waves; they smashed into the guard, sending him sprawling onto his backside, and with a swish of his tail, Damien turned to her. “Not very good with instructions, are you?”
Luna pushed the trapdoor the rest of the way and climbed out as he pranced over.
But before she could get her footing, the fallen guard was back up. He grabbed a fistful of powder and charged at them. Luna screamed, “Look out!”
It was too late; the man hurled the powder . . . but not at Damien. No. He threw it at her.
This wasn’t just a few little flakes—it was a handful. As the powder landed on her face, her bare shoulders and arms, the pain was indescribable. It seared through her as if it was melting her skin and burrowing into her pores as it tried to rip her magic away.
“Bastard!” Damien snarled, lowering his head to aim his horn directly at the guard.
The guard’s eye widened and he screamed, bolting in the opposite direction before Damien had a chance to release the magic gathering at its tip.
Coward.
Luna’s legs quivered, threatening to give out, but Damien was there, catching her before she could hit the ground. His shadows gently eased her onto his back. Through laboured breaths, she managed to balance herself on top of him.
“We are gonna make a run for it. Hold on tight,” he warned.
Though exhaustion and pain overwhelmed her, Luna threaded her fingers through his mane and clamped her legs tight on his sides.
He moved slowly at first, making sure she would stay on, then he picked up his pace.
Soon, they were at a gallop, racing through the woods and trampling over the flowers in the western garden.
Guards trailed after them, shouting at them to stop. Blasts of powder streaked through the air, which Damien did his best to dodge, but he didn’t slow his speed until they reached the front gates, where rows of men stood waiting, canisters of powder in hand.
Damien dipped his head, lowering his horn so its tip pointed directly at them in silent warning. Move or be run through.
Powder still clung to Luna, making it difficult for her to hang on as Damien charged forward.
The guards shot off their canisters as they scattered, diving out of the way to avoid being trampled.
White powder flew once again, and Luna curled into herself on Damien’s back, bracing for the burn.
It didn’t come. Instead, a shield of blackness formed around them, protecting them.
Damien’s magic absorbed most of the blast, but it wasn’t as strong as it had been at the protection ceremony, and several flakes seeped through.
He tried to manoeuvre his body, angling himself so the flakes hit him instead of Luna.
As he moved, he stumbled . . . his strength clearly waning.
She lost her balance and began to slide sideways on his back.
Desperate to stay on, she dug her legs into his side and clutched his mane so tightly her knuckles turned white.
Was it the strain of using this much magic—or was the powder finally starting to affect him?
He turned his head and, with his nose, gave her back a little push, helping her upright before continuing forward.
The guards resumed firing shot after shot of the white powder, but they were close to the gate now.
A cold weight settled in her chest at the sight of the sealed passage.
Damien barrelled through the crowd of guards, his breathing rough and laboured, but he didn’t slow.
Was he really going to try breaking through by ramming it?
Apparently, so. Luna hung on for dear life.
They were so close to freedom; she wasn’t about to fall off now and be left behind.
Damien sent out his black magic one last time, searing the gate right off its hinges.
In one giant leap, he jumped over the fallen iron, and they were off the palace grounds.
Luna couldn’t help the smile that spread across her lips.
They escaped! She would have screamed in glee had it not been for all the guards now chasing after them down the street.
Damien weaved between buildings faster than a horse ever could. The distance between them and the guards grew, and soon, their shouts faded into whispers.
As they left the city behind, the cramped streets gave way to gentle rolling hills beneath an endless blue sky. Tall grass stalks grazed the bottom of her shoes as Damien galloped effortlessly through them, his powerful strides rhythmic and steady.
Luna had spent her entire life within the confines of the palace, yearning for freedom from its strict rules and constant safety. Yet now, with that freedom within reach, she found herself torn.
She was abandoning everything familiar, and the thought was as terrifying as it was exhilarating.
As the thrill of their escape quieted, Luna became keenly aware of the sway of her hips matching Damien’s graceful movements.
Her attention hyperfixated on every point of contact between them: The way his powerful muscles rippled under her, his warmth radiating through her legs, seeping into her skin.
She wasn't just riding a horse; she was riding Damien, a unicorn.
Something inside her tightened, and her mind wandered traitorously to a different kind of rhythm—hidden beneath tangled sheets, not with hooves and horn, but with his human body, with his hands roaming over her.
Instinctively, she squeezed her thighs, pressing them together in a desperate attempt to smother the feeling.
As if he could read her mind, Damien slowed to a trot, glancing back at her with an unmistakable expression of amusement. “As much as I enjoy being between your legs, we’re going to grab horses,” he said. His ears flicked towards a lone figure waiting ahead with three saddled mounts.
Heat flooded Luna’s cheeks, embarrassment scorching her skin. She released her grip on his mane as if that act alone would loosen this awareness.
She needed off—now.
The instant Damien shifted to signal her dismount, Luna hurried off his back. Exhausted, her legs trembled, and she was barely able to regain her balance before a familiar voice pierced through the tension.
“Took you long enough. I was starting to worry,” Gregory said.
The heat within Luna vanished instantly, replaced by a shard of ice that stabbed through her chest.
Gregory.
What was he doing here?
The last time she had seen him, it had been moments before Marion disappeared. She didn’t trust him one bit.
“I thought it would be more fun to abandon our plans and escape with all the king’s men chasing us,” Damien responded smoothly, his voice edged with playful sarcasm.
“Luna, it’s good to see you again,” Gregory said cheerfully, as if they were friends reuniting.
Her glare sharpened. “I wish I could say the same,” she replied coolly, but Gregory merely smiled wider.
Before he could respond, Damien cut in, “As much as I enjoy small talk, now isn’t the time.”
Gregory laughed, clearly enjoying Damien’s misfortune more than was necessary. Luna sensed the humour wasn’t just about seeing his friend dusted in white powder. No. Gregory seemed to relish the idea of Damien being caught off guard.
“They got you good, hey?” he said, gesturing at the white speckling Damien’s coat. He opened a saddle pack on one of the horses and tossed Damien a black shirt and pants.
Within a heartbeat, Damien transformed, slipping into the clothes. “Your very obvious statement aside, we should get going.”
Gregory nodded and tossed Luna a shirt and pair of pants.
She looked them over; the shirt had red circular symbols sewn into the bottom, and the pants were a simple beige with two pockets on either side.
She made a swirling motion with her fingers at the men, and after receiving the hint, they turned around.
She slid the pants on under her dress, but she waited a second, ensuring neither were peeking, before slipping the gown off and the shirt on. Even though these clothes were nowhere near her usual attire, she was thankful to be rid of the gown.
“Okay. I’m done.”
Damien turned around, and with a little smirk on his face, he elbowed Gregory and said, “You should wear the dress.”
Gregory raised his eyebrows. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” Damien looked back at the city. A few guards had exited the city limits and were now running through the rolling hills. They would need to get moving soon.
“Take off in the other direction,” Damien commanded, “make the guards think me and her split up.”
“Fine.” Gregory huffed. He pulled the dress over his head and over his clothes, muttering under his breath as he squeezed into it.
Although it was tight, even with the back undone, it would suffice.
From a distance, the guards would likely see the dress and not doubt her identity until they got closer.
Gregory crossed his arms, resembling a sulking cupcake.
Damien nodded in approval. “If you keep some distance, they probably won’t realize you aren’t her. We’ll stick to the plan—meet at Kalt Ravine in five days. If we miss each other, just keep going. I’ll join you at Winta’s.”
Kalt Ravine—the name sounded familiar, not only because she had studied geography maps in her lessons with Demetrio. She had recently learned something about the town, but she couldn’t quite remember what it was.
“Why do we need a distraction? Can’t we teleport?” she asked.
Damien guided Luna over to the mare with a dark chestnut coat. “Nina broke the teleportation system when she stabbed the leaf with her horn. We’ll have to travel by foot, or on horseback.” He patted the mare’s neck. “This is Pickles.”
Luna held her hand out to Pickles, and the mare sniffed it. Cautiously, Luna stroked Pickles’ nose; it was velvet soft. “Who’s that?” Luna asked, pointing at Damien’s horse.
“Barley,” Damien replied, giving his black mare a pat on the neck too.
Horses didn’t seem as dangerous or unpredictable as the king had claimed them to be when he’d refused her request to go horseback riding as a child. Back at the palace, riding had been on the list of forbidden activities. Hell, she hadn’t even been allowed near the stables.
“I’ve never ridden before,” Luna admitted, her voice meek.
Damien didn’t react beyond a slight nod, as if it made perfect sense that the king’s captive had never learned such a thing.
After all, why would the king provide her a way for a quick escape.
Without a word, he strode to Pickles, grabbed one of the saddle stirrups, and held it out, waiting for Luna to place her foot in it.
She tried, but Pickles’s height was more of a challenge than she expected, and stretching her leg high enough was an effort by itself. Just as she managed to hook the tip of her foot in the stirrup, Damien leaned in. His breath was warm against her ear. “You rode me just fine.”
Heat flashed across her cheeks, sharp and sudden.
For a moment, all she could focus on was him—the low timbre of his voice, the warmth of his breath, the gleam in his eyes that made it clear he knew exactly what he was doing. And worse? Technically, he wasn’t wrong. The thought sent a fresh wave of warmth burning up her neck.
She rolled her eyes, willing the reaction away, and tried to haul herself up and into the saddle. Still, the stirrup was almost impossibly high. She tried again, and failed; frustration curled through her, until Damien’s hands caught her waist.
Steady and certain, he lifted her like it was effortless. Like he hadn’t just unraveled her entire thought process with one sentence.
Once she was settled, Damien turned to Gregory, assisting him in managing the dress’s fabric as he climbed onto his black mare.
He made a show of flaring the gown’s skirts around him, fluffing it to cover his thick legs.
If not for the stains and tears, he would have looked like a beautiful princess; the thought made Luna smile, though it quickly disappeared.
“Take care of him. He can be a royal pain in the ass,” Gregory said to Luna before making a clucking noise with his mouth. Immediately, his mare leapt into action, taking off at a gallop towards the hills. It wasn’t long until he was a mere bug on the distant dim horizon.
“That should buy us some time,” Damien noted as he mounted Barley. Once astride her, he added, “Hold onto the saddle horn and let me know if you need to slow down.”
Luna wrapped both hands around the leather horn, and Damien made the same clucking sound with his mouth.
Barley took off at a lope, in the opposite direction of Gregory.
He’d barely gotten two paces ahead before Pickles followed after him.
Apparently, the mare did not want to be left alone with Luna—which suited her just fine.
Their pace quickened, and each stride became longer and longer until the ground raced underneath them.
Luna’s vision blurred from the wind stabbing her eyes, and her knuckles turned pale from gripping the saddle horn tightly, but she refused to tell Damien to slow down.
She wanted to put as much distance between her and the king’s men as possible.
Besides, riding the mare wasn’t too different from riding Damien in his unicorn form; she just needed to hold on for dear life and pray she didn’t fall.