Chapter 11 #2
“I see.” Signa’s voice was firm, and I didn’t feel any surprise coming from her, which meant . . . this was exactly how she saw this occurring. I was supposed to decline.
My mind spun at the implication—the physics of a magical gift I couldn’t truly dissect the workings of—and I could see no other course of action other than to leave the room.
And I did.
Signa and Friar resumed speaking as soon as I left, their tones hushed as I stalked down the hallway, taking out my anger on the uneven stone floor.
I awoke to screaming.
And not my own.
No, there were several shouts, some coming from directly outside my door.
In a rush, I pulled on the soot-stained breeches, knowing if there was a battle waging, they would serve me better than a dress.
Leif had been so appalled, he’d left them tossed in a pile on the floor instead of sending them to the laundry.
I pulled on a shirt next, scouring the floor for one of Leif’s weapons.
When I couldn’t find one, I reached instead for the three vials of the potion I kept in my bedside, shoving them into my brassiere before yanking open the door
The scene was gruesome—three dead bodies already piled in our sitting area, one of whom was the guard who’d been stationed at our door the last several days. Out of habit, I sank down, holding my breath as I pressed two fingers to his neck.
There was nothing.
My chest pinched.
Where was Leif?
Swords clanged, sounding almost like an echo in my ears. The battle wasn’t far.
Remembering the training from a certain dark-haired general, I pried the sword from the hand of the dead guard, taking an extra breath to pull the knife from his belt and shove it down my breeches, the handle acting as a hook to keep it from falling down my pant leg.
I missed the belt included in the uniform that the Ralheim military had issued me.
But those days were long gone.
I took a deep breath, trying to center myself. It had been fortnights since my training, a season since I’d even held a weapon. But there was no time to re-adjust myself, or my emotions.
I stepped over the other two bodies, fighting the urge to check their pulses—there wasn’t time.
It didn’t matter anyway.
I turned the corner, releasing my breath as I evaluated the empty hallway.
I didn’t lower my arms from where they were raised in front of me, though, as I could still hear the clashing of swords.
I tilted my head toward the ceiling, taking notice of how most of the clangs no longer echoed. They were probably in the courtyard.
My thoughts spun, was this Otho’s plan to rescue me? Or was this Friar’s plan? And if so, why hadn’t she said something when I’d been in her room a few hours before?
Actually, come to think of it, I had no idea how long I’d been asleep. It might be the next evening for all I knew. Except my stomach wasn’t empty, and I could still feel the slight numbness of the potion I’d been taking each morning to dim my magic.
No, it was early in the morning. Only a few hours had passed since my conversation with Signa and Friar, which made this attack all the more suspicious.
But unlike when this happened previously, when I’d gone running to save my cousin, this time I only had one goal.
Stay alive, and get myself out.
The sound of swords crescendoed as I drew closer to the courtyard, and I stopped before turning the corner, wanting to investigate before joining the fray.
I breathed in deeply, peeking around the corner, only to grimace at the chaos.
There were men in the dark blue Ralheim uniforms, all fighting against those in the dark green uniforms. But even as my gaze searched the masses, I didn’t spot the dark-haired general, nor the blond-haired Leif.
The battle was disorganized, and even though there was light pouring into the courtyard from the early morning sun, a fair amount of confusion hung in the cool air. Some of the men in green uniforms tripped over their own feet, their pants not properly fastened.
This was Friar’s plan . . . it had to be.
She’d never explained to me how I fit into this. But just as I started to go over my options, one of the men in a blue uniform spotted me. “That’s her!”
My heart fluttered with the knowledge that Otho had sent someone for me, before it sank at the reality that this was a battle, and battles never went as planned.
The man who’d shouted walked toward me, but the two men in green closest to me took him as a threat, beheading him with a swipe of their weapon before he even realized what had happened.
I turned, ducking around the corner, and retched.
Though I wasn’t new to war, there was no way I would ever grow desensitized to this level of violence.
The battle renewed, now that there were revived goals on both sides, becoming even bloodier.
Several of the skirmishes within a few footfalls of where I stood open-mouthed ended suddenly, with one of the men winning.
My grip on the handle of the sword tightened, my arm aching from the season without training.
I stepped out from behind the wall, preparing to join, when I realized I had no idea which side to join, or what was even occurring. I sucked my lip into my mouth.
On the one hand, I was angry at Otho, but I wanted to be with him.
But I didn’t want Leif’s men, especially the ones I knew, like Derek, to be hurt trying to protect me, as so many already had been.
So, I did the only thing I could think to do.
I spun, nearly sliding on the stones that were slick with blood, and ran.