by Tanya Bird
As he waded in, Charis ran into the water towards them.
‘Horses!’ he shouted. ‘At least fifty of them!’
Leksi jogged the final few paces to close the distance between them. He heard it then, the sound of hooves approaching. ‘Get the boat and take Xander around the point, out of sight.’
‘I want to stay with you,’ Xander said.
‘I need you to go with Charis.’ Leksi handed the clinging child over. ‘I need you to do exactly as Charis says.’ He looked at his squire. ‘If anything should happen, take him to the manor as soon as it’s safe.’
Charis nodded before running off towards the rocks to fetch the boat. Leksi shoved his legs into his trousers, his wet braies immediately soaking them. He did not bother with his shirt or shoes, just took off at a sprint towards the house, hoping to reach his weapons before the men reached him. He glanced in the direction of the approaching horses as he ran. The riders wore plain clothes, but he knew by the arrows pointed in his direction that it was not a friendly visit.
Hiss.
An arrow passed behind him just as he reached the house.
Tugging open the door, he went straight for his sword, securing it around his hips before snatching up his bow and quiver. He needed to take down as many as he could before they reached him.
He stepped outside, using the door as a shield, and began shooting. One, two, three. He kept reloading the bow. Four, five, six. Nothing wrong with his aim, but there was no way he could kill them all before they reached him. Seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve. An arrow grazed his arm, and he stepped behind the door as ten more rained down on him. The horses split into two groups, no doubt intending to surround the house. He stepped out one more time and released another five arrows. Not enough. By his guess, there were at least another thirty riders, who were now leaping from the horses and drawing their swords as they charged towards him. With a flick of his wrist, an arrow fell into place. He released three in a row, taking down the closest men before dropping his bow and drawing his sword.
Steel crashed and screeched, and Leksi moved and twisted to avoid the blades coming at him. He found his rhythm, his home now a battlefield where blood sprayed the walls and bodies fell at his front step.
The sound of glass smashing in one of the bedrooms made him turn and look. They were coming behind him now, and his position was no longer optimal for fighting as his back was exposed. He shifted away from the door, swinging ruthlessly to move past the ten or so men still in front of him. He felt the sting of a blade across his arm, but he did not even look at it.
Another window smashed, at the front of the house, and an arrow appeared, pointed in his direction. He grabbed one of the soldiers by the arm and pulled the man in front of him like a shield, bashing the weapon from his hand just as the arrow hit. The man collapsed at his feet, and Leksi looked around, panting. Men came from the other side of the house on foot, swords drawn. Another arrow was already pointed at him from the window, and a bitter realisation hit him at that moment.
He was going to die.
Chapter 31
The window faced west, and for some reason, that helped. Maybe it was because Xander was west. And Leksi.
Petra sat curled in a ball beneath the glass, one hand outstretched, turning it in the light. She watched her skin change colour until the sun disappeared, marking the end of another day. The shadows grew darker, but she did not move from her spot on the floor. Running a finger along the bruise on her neck, she remembered her last encounter with the king. He had scared even himself that time; she had seen it in his face. He held all the power, and the boundaries were blurring.
For weeks she had been locked inside that bedchamber. Her only visitors were the king and the maid who brought her food and emptied the chamber pot. The young girl never said a word, never even raised her eyes to Petra. She knew what was happening, knew she was playing a part in her destruction. Nilos came every day, sometimes more than once. He would lie on the bed with her, stroking her hair and running his fingers down the bare skin of her arms, needing to forgive but being unable to.
‘Let me out,’ she would say to the wall.
He would watch her in the dark, thinking. ‘Not yet.’
His answer was always the same. ‘When?’
‘When you are cleansed of him.’
What did that even mean? Was he waiting for a confession? Waiting for her to open her wrist and bleed him out? It would not work.
At some point the air thinned, the nights cooled and the mornings brought frost. The warm season was coming to an end, taking the colour from her cheeks with it. Every day she woke to find another piece of herself missing. Perhaps that was his plan. When there was nothing left, would he consider it a victory?
She stopped putting on the dresses he sent each morning. It was pointless. Who was she dressing up for? Him? Well, she just did not care enough to go to the effort. Instead, she remained in her nightdress with her hair out and unbrushed.
Food arrived three times every day and sat mostly untouched on the tray. She was not hungry. She drank the water though, if only to reassure herself that she intended to survive.
‘You are not taking care of yourself,’ the king scolded during one of his visits.
She was seated in the chair, fingers splayed on the arms as she watched him across the room. ‘I am not hungry.’
‘You are not trying.’
She stared at him, eyes hollow. She was too tired to try. He wanted something from her, the piece of herself she had given to Leksi, but it was not hers to give.
‘The maid says you are sleeping on the floor.’
That was true. She only used the bed when he was there, a heavy arm suffocating her while he slept. She always stayed awake, wondering how long it would take her to starve to death.
‘I am at a loss how to fix you,’ he said. There was concern in his voice, but not enough to let her out of the room. He walked over and crouched in front of her. She was forced to look at him.
‘There are some nights I think I can still smell him on you,’ he whispered.
She pushed her matted hair from her face, tucking it behind her ears. You are mad, she wanted to scream. But the fight had left her. He could do as he pleased. She turned away from him.
He might have been insane, but so was she.
‘You laid with him, did you not?’
She shook her head. It seemed like the right response.
‘Perhaps he forced himself on you,’ he continued. ‘Could not take no for an answer?’
Was that what he needed to hear? That she had never wanted another man? She would not give him that. ‘No. Leksi would never do that.’
Nilos’s forehead creased as he watched her. ‘I cannot bear to see you this way. If I could trust you with a mirror, you would understand why.’
She pulled her legs up, hugging them. Her fingers pressed her bleeding cuticles. She did not care about hiding it anymore.
‘I have some news to share with you. News that will help you, help us.’
‘Are you letting me out of here?’
He sat with his back against the wall and his legs stretched out in front of him. ‘Come,’ he said, gesturing with one hand. ‘Lay your head in my lap.’
She thought about it, crawling over to him and lying down so he could stroke her hair and feel better about himself. That would have been the smart thing to do—submit.
‘Tell me the news,’ she said. ‘That is why you came here.’
His expression hardened. ‘I have been gathering information,’ he began. ‘And I have located Sir Leksi.’
Her eyes went to him. ‘Why are you looking for him?’
‘With him gone, we stand a chance.’ He leaned forwards, gripping her bare calf. ‘You are still my queen. I am not giving up on you.’
Her hands tingled and her mind buzzed. Perhaps she should have eaten the food, because she could not think suddenly. ‘What do you mean, “with him gone”?’ She
searched his eyes. ‘You promised to let them be.’
He looked annoyed, as though he had expected her to light up at the news of his betrayal. ‘That was before.’
She shook her head. ‘What have you done?’ Her eyes welled up.
‘The boy will not be harmed. I already have a family lined up, one you would approve of.’
She just kept shaking her head. He was taking away the only comfort she had left in the world. ‘What family? I told you to leave him be.’
‘You know I could not let that man live. He has taken too much from us.’
No, he had given her everything.
‘What are you saying?’ She sat forwards, gripping the chair until every finger throbbed. ‘Did you kill him?’
His look of surprise dissolved into a scowl. ‘Everything I do, I do for us.’
Another shake of her head, rejecting his words. Leksi could not die. He was Syrasan’s best knight, a killing machine on any battlefield. ‘You are lying.’
He stood, his tall frame looming over her. ‘He was easy enough to find. He returned to the same house, the one my men had visited before.’
There was no air left in the room. ‘Your men died. I was there. I saw them die.’
‘Not all.’
She tried to think. He was right, one had survived and fled before Leksi returned to the house.
‘My men crossed into Syrasan yesterday.’
She looked up at him, eyes filled with hate. ‘Prince Tyron is not stupid. He knows what you are. He would never have let your men pass, never leave his friends vulnerable.’
He leaned down. ‘Prince Tyron knows nothing of it. My men entered from the North, from Zoelin.’
Her hands went over her ears and she tipped forwards, her chest pressing on her thighs. She thought she might be sick.
‘I did it for us,’ he said.
At that, she shot out of her seat. He took a quick step back. ‘No, you did it for yourself. You did it because you are jealous and sick.’ She ran to the door and tried to open it. Realising it was locked, she pounded it with her fist. ‘Let me out of here.’
The king watched her from across the room. ‘For him you grieve?’
Yes—for him, her son, and herself. It was a giant pool of pain. ‘I cannot even look at you.’ She slapped the door with both hands. ‘Let me out!’
He walked over to her slowly. ‘You just need more time. You will see clearly soon enough. Do not waste your grief on that man.’
She spun around. ‘That man?’ Her chest heaved, her voice broken. ‘I loved him. I gave myself to him willingly.’
The king pressed his lips into a thin line. ‘You want to hurt me? Is that it?’
Shaking her head, she said, ‘I do not care enough to hurt you.’ She took a step towards him. ‘You are nothing to me but a prison guard, a monster. I could never love you. Every day, I hate you a little more than I thought possible.’
In two strides, he reached her, gripping her throat. ‘Shut up.’
Tears spilled down her face, pooling in his fingers. She stared unblinking at him, her arms limp at her sides. She was not going to fight him. He could watch the life drain from her and carry the image with him for the rest of his miserable life. ‘Do it,’ she spat, barely getting the words out.
He released her as though she had burned him, and she collapsed at his feet, gasping and coughing. The door swung open and the guard appeared, looking between them, his hand on his sword as he took in the scene.
‘We are fine,’ Nilos said, his eyes on Petra. He crouched to her, eyes full of remorse. ‘Let me see your neck.’
She scooted away from him until her back hit the table where a tray of food sat. She could not speak, but her expression made it very clear that he was not to put a hand on her.
Nilos looked completely lost for a moment, then looked around the room, stood and stepped up to the tray on the table, dipping his finger into the soup. ‘I will have some more food brought up. This is cold.’
She watched him warily, her hands on her neck as she continued to draw greedy lungfuls of air. Nilos walked to the door, and the guard stepped out of his way. He disappeared through it, and then she heard his footsteps fade down the corridor. The guard stared down at her for a moment, looking bewildered and conflicted as to what he should do.
Let me out, she wanted to say. But she was too weak to run, and she had no one to run to. Grief swelled in her, and she felt like she had been kicked in the stomach. She lay down on the ground with her hands over her face, unable to hold her pain in any longer. Sobs tore through her, racking her body.
Leksi.
She kicked the table as hard as she could, and the guard jumped back as cold soup sprayed the wall. The tray landed with a clang on the floor, and the empty bowl rolled for some time before rattling to a stop. She turned to the wall and curled herself into a ball. After a while, she heard the guard exit the room and the familiar sound of the door locking.
‘Don’t let that bastard break you.’
Too late. She was completely broken.
Chapter 32
He was outnumbered, and they were pressing in on him. Occasionally he got lucky, his blade meeting flesh, but it would not be enough. He leapt backwards as another arrow was released, sailing straight into the face of a soldier running from the other direction. The fact that they had shot one of their own would have amused him at any other time, but he was too busy trying to dodge death to appreciate the irony.
Another soldier lunged, and Leksi’s elbow hit the outside wall of the house as he blocked the blow. He was trapped. There was nowhere for him to go. His only option was to fight his way out, and he knew his odds of surviving were dismal at best.
The archer in the window leaned out to navigate the tricky angle, and Leksi wondered what the chances were that he would miss again. Not great odds at that proximity. He would need to block the arrow with his sword. He had done it before, but he had not been surrounded by men trying to kill him at the time.
He pushed the closest man back with his foot and pressed himself flat against the wall, hoping the arrow would miss. It did, buying him a few more seconds of life, but then they were on him again.
As he fought back, he braced for the inevitable arrow. Instead, he heard a groan and turned to watch the archer fall out of the window. At first he thought Charis might have come back to help, but then he remembered the squire did not have a bow with him. More men cried out before collapsing to the ground, clutching their wounds. The remaining soldiers glanced nervously behind them, no doubt searching for the shooter. Leksi took advantage of their distraction and cut down the men closest to him.
Three horses skidded to a halt on the other side of the soldiers, Tyron dismounting and drawing his sword. The two men with him followed, weapons ready.
More Corneon soldiers burst from the house, having realised there was no one inside. Soon, only a handful of them remained alive, and those soldiers were no match for the four of them. Within minutes they lay bleeding next to their comrades. Only then did Leksi glance down at the cut on his arm, assessing the damage. It would need a few stitches, but he would live.
He bent to hold his knees, panting and sweating. Tyron looked around at the bodies while his men went to finish off anyone still alive. No one wanted to listen to them groaning and writhing in the dirt.
‘You did fairly well with these odds,’ Tyron said.
Leksi straightened and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. ‘I won’t pretend I wasn’t quietly shitting my pants for a moment there.’ He nodded at Tyron. ‘Impeccable timing.’
One of the soldiers at Tyron’s feet let out a faint groan. The prince thrust his sword through the man’s side.
‘I’m going to hazard a guess that King Nilos wants his son back,’ Leksi said.
Tyron wiped the blade of his weapon and returned it to its sheath. ‘I am not convinced he does. I think they were here for you.’
Leksi frowned. ‘Me? Why?’
But even as he spoke the words, the answer formed in his mind. There was only one reason the mad king would send a small army to kill him—he knew something.
Tyron looked past him to the house. ‘Where is Xander?’
‘With Charis, in the water.’
Tyron nodded. ‘Better he stays there while we clean up.’
Leksi stared at the bloodied corpses. ‘Agreed.’
It took almost an hour for the four of them to drag the bodies to the edge of the property for burning. Then they collected all the weapons and piled them behind the house, out of sight. Their attackers’ horses were unsaddled and either put in the small yard or tethered to its fence.
Tyron instructed his men to clean up the blood as best they could while they went to fetch Charis and Xander. To avoid having to explain the blood-soaked earth in front of the house, Leksi announced to the anxious boy that they were going to cook mutton over a fire on the beach. He hoped the smoke would disguise the sixty corpses burning in a fire at the back of the property.
If Xander suspected anything, he did not let on, not even when Charis stitched up Leksi’s arm. But he clung to the knight, making it impossible for him to talk privately with Tyron.
‘Charis, why don’t you take Xander down to the water to build a sandcastle,’ Leksi said.
The squire nodded and came to collect the boy from his lap.
‘Are you going to come with us?’ Xander asked.
Leksi smiled. ‘I’ll be along in a minute.’
The two men watched as Charis and the boy headed down to the water. Once they were alone, Tyron turned to Leksi.
‘He’s really attached himself to you.’
Leksi continued to watch Xander. ‘The feeling’s mutual.’
‘I am pleased, and I am sorry for suggesting you were not up to the task.’
Leksi looked at him. ‘It was probably a fair assumption.’
Tyron gave a small smile. ‘I have been worried about you. You have barely said two words in your letters.’