Ruined

by Amy Tintera

  Another woman followed her, outfitted in a skirt made of dried grass and only a scrap of fabric to cover her chest. They both headed away from Cas.

  A whispered voice sounded from behind him. Cas’s body went cold. He slowly looked over his shoulder.

  A spear was pointed right between his eyes.

  He turned, raising his hands in surrender. Two men stood in front of him. One was about Cas’s age, the other much older. The young man had a sword dangling from his hand, letting the older man handle the spear that was pointed at Cas.

  “I was just going to the river,” Cas said. “For water.”

  The young man stepped closer to him, moving toward Cas so quietly that it became very obvious how these two had managed to sneak up on him so easily. He wore pants that ended above his knees, and a stained gray shirt. The older man wore the same kind of pants but no shirt at all.

  The old man jabbed him in the chest with the spear and Cas gasped, stumbling backward. He’d poked Cas just hard enough to break the skin, and a dot of red started to appear over the castle insignia.

  “You’re from the castle,” the man said accusingly. Cas flashed back to the warriors saying they were going to let the locals know there was a price on the prince’s head.

  “I—I stole it.” His lie came out hesitantly. “The person wearing it was dead, so I took it. The Olso warriors attacked the castle.”

  “Did the warriors kill the people in the castle?” The older man was so hopeful suddenly that Cas had to beat down a swell of rage. The image of his father’s white shirt turning red flashed through his memory.

  “Some of them,” he said quietly.

  “Good.” The man nodded, as if this satisfied him.

  “You can have some water,” the young man said, sheathing his sword. “Then you’ll leave.”

  Cas tried to appear grateful. The old man ran ahead, skipping over rocks until he reached the shore. The other man walked behind Cas, a little too close for comfort.

  The old man walked to a large bucket and grabbed a cup hanging from the side. He scooped it inside, then held it out to Cas. “It’s clean.”

  Cas took a quick, covert sniff of the water before tipping it to his mouth. It was clean, though it had an earthy taste, with a hint of fish. He gulped it down anyway, wiping a hand across his mouth when he was done. The man scooped out another cup for him, looking at Cas like he was an idiot as he drained that one as well.

  “You should have stayed in the city,” the man said.

  “Olso has taken over the city.” Cas handed him the cup. “They could come here. You should be careful.”

  The man laughed. “Olso warriors have no problem with us.”

  Cas just shrugged. “Thank you for the water.”

  The man pointed in the direction Cas had come from. “Royal City is back that way.”

  Cas didn’t tell him he wasn’t going to Royal City. Let them think he was.

  “The others aren’t coming this way, are they?” the young man asked.

  “What others?” Cas asked.

  He pointed into the jungle, but Cas saw nothing. “I’ve seen others. Everyone is going south.”

  Perhaps he’d seen the Lera troops headed to the Southern Mountains. Cas felt a burst of hope. If he was able to find them, he’d be safe again. He’d have a horse and a sword and an army to take back the castle.

  “I’m sure they won’t bother you,” he said, even though he had no idea. He thanked the men again, turning to walk away. A child stood directly in front of him, and he stopped short, giving her a weak smile. She stuck her thumbs in her ears, shot her tongue out, and made a face at him. She shrieked with delight as she ran away, like she’d waited most of her life to do that.

  Cas cast a glance over his shoulder as he started walking again. The men followed him with their eyes, their mouths set in hard lines. He picked up his pace, telling himself it was because he hoped to find the Lera soldiers, not because he was afraid of two strange men.

  He began to search for signs of horses or anything that indicated someone had come this way. He spotted a footprint here and there, though that could have been from the people he’d just met. But the footprints seemed to be headed south, so he followed them.

  A rustling sound behind him almost made him turn, but he caught himself just in time. He took a careful step forward, trying not to let his shoulders tense. If someone was watching him, he didn’t want them to know he was aware of their presence.

  He pushed a branch out of his face, using the opportunity to peek over his shoulder.

  Something slammed into him. He hit the ground.

  The young man grabbed the back of his shirt and yanked Cas to his feet.

  The old man stood in front of him, spear aimed directly at Cas’s neck. He drew the spear back, preparing to plunge it straight into Cas’s flesh.

  Cas grabbed onto the arm holding him, using the anchor to lift his legs off the ground. Cas launched his feet into the man’s chest. The man stumbled backward, tripping over a vine and hitting the ground.

  The arm around him loosened as he returned his feet to the ground. Cas lifted his elbow and slammed it into the young man’s side. He grunted, and Cas spun out of his grasp.

  The old man lunged at him with the spear, and Cas dove out of the way. The man swung the spear wildly, and Cas quickly ducked. He popped right back up, grabbing hold of the wooden handle of the spear as it came at his head again. He yanked it out of the man’s hands.

  He took a step back, away from the man’s flailing hands. He used both hands to sink the sharp tip of the spear into the man’s neck.

  The old man made a strange gasping sound as he fell, the blood draining down his bare chest.

  The young man had disappeared, and Cas whirled around, frantically scanning the area. The man was standing on a fallen tree right behind Cas, sword poised. He jumped before Cas could react.

  Cas darted out of the way, but not before the blade sliced across his bad shoulder. He stumbled as he felt blood start to trickle down his arm.

  The young man grabbed him by the hair, and Cas tried to pull away, yelling as the pain shot through his scalp. He dropped to his knees. The young man stepped in front of him. Cas felt the metal of a blade against his skin, and he squeezed his eyes shut.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  TWO WARRIORS AND four horses waited near the riverbank. Iria and Koldo greeted the two men, but Em hung back with Aren, surveying their weapons and supplies. The two new warriors were fresh and clean next to the four travelers—their red-and-white coats were crisp and their faces weren’t drawn and exhausted. They both had swords, and probably a knife or two hidden somewhere.

  “This must be the famous Emelina Flores,” a warrior with a mustache said, striding over to her. “I’m Miguel.”

  “Em.” She jerked her head to her friend. “Aren.”

  “Nice to meet you both.” He gestured at his warrior buddy. “This is Francisco. I’m glad we found you. We were starting to think you weren’t coming.”

  “We’ve had to travel on foot,” Iria said.

  “Did you come from the castle?” Em asked hurriedly. “What happened?”

  Matching grins spread across Miguel’s and Francisco’s faces. “The castle is ours. The king is dead.”

  Relief and dread smacked against her all at once.

  “The rest of the royal family has gone missing,” Miguel continued, and she almost collapsed from relief. “We assume they’re headed for Fort Victorra, so we’ll take care of that when we arrive. We’ve informed some of the locals out here that there is a sizable reward for killing any member of the royal family.”

  Iria’s eyes flicked briefly to Em before she smiled at the warriors. “Wonderful. Should we keep going then? Aren and Em, you’ll need to share a horse.”

  The sounds of a man grunting echoed through the trees. Em whirled around, searching for the source of the noise.

  She could hear rustling and heavy breathing, follow
ed by a yell. A fight, maybe. Everyone remained still. She wrapped her fingers around her sword.

  A flash of blue streaked across her vision and disappeared from view. She stepped to the side, craning her neck to see around the trees.

  Her heart stopped.

  It was Cas, on his knees with a blade to his throat. A man with a sword set his mouth in a determined line, preparing to slice Cas’s neck.

  She was moving before she realized she was going to him, ignoring the shouts from behind her.

  Cas was out of sight suddenly, and for a terrible moment she thought the man had succeeded in killing him. But he rolled away from the blade and jumped up, moving faster than she’d ever seen. And she’d thought he was giving it his all when they sparred.

  She leaped over a vine, her fingers sweaty around the hilt of her sword. Cas slammed his body against the man, knocking them both to the ground.

  Cas scrambled to his feet. He had the sword. She skidded to a stop a few paces from him just in time to see him plunge the sword into the man’s chest.

  He whirled around, bloody sword still poised in front of him. Their eyes met.

  He was dirty and his pants were smeared with something dark—probably blood. He wore a blue staff shirt that was only half buttoned and covered in grime. Deep, dark circles marred the flesh under his eyes. He’d aged three years instead of three days.

  His face twisted, and she caught a full glimpse of just how much he hated her. He hated her with everything he had, hated her with more intensity than he’d ever felt about anything.

  He lunged at her, and she barely raised her sword in time to block his attack. The sound of their blades crashing together echoed through the forest, and her heart began to beat so fast she felt sick.

  “Cas—” She gulped back the words as he dove at her again. He nicked her neck with the blade and she scurried back, away from him.

  He followed, shoving his sword dangerously close to her chest. She blocked it and lifted her sword against the next attack.

  He slammed his foot into her knee. Her legs buckled and she hit the ground, keeping a tight grip on her sword. She started to scramble to her feet.

  Cas had his blade aimed at her neck.

  She sucked in a breath. He was gasping for air, his expression twisted and furious. He wasn’t just angry; he was going to kill her.

  She considered saying she was sorry, but she wasn’t sure she wanted those to be the last words she ever said.

  The blade in front of her face shook a tiny bit, and she looked from it to Cas. He pressed his lips together, the saddest defeated expression crossing his face.

  He started to lower the blade.

  Every part of her body crumpled in relief. She opened her mouth, desperately trying to think of what to say that wouldn’t make him change his mind and kill her immediately.

  “I—”

  Her words ended in a gasp as an arrow whizzed past her face. Cas stumbled backward as it sank into his flesh.

  TWENTY-NINE

  CAS FELL TO the ground, the arrow sticking out of his left shoulder. Em frantically scrambled across the dirt to him.

  “You missed,” Iria said from behind her.

  “Tell her to move out of the way, and I’ll make sure the next one’s in his heart,” Miguel said.

  Em yanked the arrow out before Cas could protest. He pressed his lips together to muffle his scream. He looked like he wished he’d killed her.

  “Move, Emelina,” Miguel said.

  Her eyes met Cas’s. His father deserved to die. Lera deserved to be burned to the ground. But Cas didn’t deserve any of this.

  “No,” she said, her voice sounding stronger than she felt. Boots stopped next to her, and Aren frowned down at her.

  “If you’re going to kill him yourself, do you mind being quick about it?” Miguel asked. “I know your mother was fond of extended torture, but we don’t really have time—”

  “No one is killing him,” she said. Some of Cas’s anger melted into confusion.

  “Em . . .” Iria’s voice trailed off, and she glanced at Miguel.

  “We have to,” Miguel said. “King Lucio ordered the royal family killed.”

  “I do not take orders from King Lucio, and I say that he lives.” Em looked at Aren. “Will you help me move him to the river? That arrow was probably filthy. We should boil some water and clean the wound.”

  “We should what?” Miguel let out a disbelieving laugh.

  “No one needs to help me,” Cas spat, sitting up with his hand braced against his bloody shoulder. “I can walk.”

  “Oh good,” Miguel said. “He can walk. Let’s catch him some fish and make him a lovely meal while we’re at it, why don’t we?”

  Cas eyed his sword, just beyond his reach, and Aren quickly scooped it off the ground. He knelt down next to Em, lowering his voice so Cas wouldn’t overhear. “He tried to kill you, Em.”

  “He wasn’t going to do it. He was lowering his sword.”

  “It looked like he was going to kill you from where I stood.”

  She glanced over her shoulder to see the four warriors in a huddle, talking among themselves. Miguel kept throwing his arms around in annoyance.

  “Come on,” Em said, jumping to her feet and extending her hand to Cas. He glared at it. “You have to get that wound clean.”

  He struggled to stand on his own, almost falling over in the process. He blinked, obviously light-headed from the loss of blood. “Why? Just kill me and get it over with.” He let out a strangled laugh.

  “No one is killing you.” She gestured for him to walk in front of her, because she didn’t trust that he wouldn’t take off running. He didn’t stand a chance out in the jungle with that wound and no sword.

  He walked past her and toward the river, casting a quick glance at the warriors. They all followed him with their eyes, and Em kept careful watch on Miguel’s bow and arrow. There were four warriors, and only she and Aren. Em didn’t think she could count Cas on their team, even if he weren’t injured. She had Aren, at least. He made their odds much better.

  “Tell them you want to offer him as a trade,” Aren whispered to Em.

  She looked at him quickly. “What?”

  “Tell them you want him alive so you can trade him for Olivia. Fort Victorra will be well protected by Lera soldiers by the time we get there—tell them you have doubts that the warriors will be able take the area. He’s your backup plan.”

  “That’s a good idea. They may actually go for that.”

  “I think you should kill him, for the record,” he said. “But if you really can’t, I trust your decision.”

  “Thank you,” she said as they approached the river. Cas stood near the water, a muscle in his jaw twitching. He looked at them suspiciously, obviously wondering what they were whispering about.

  “How do you expect to boil water out here?” he asked.

  Aren snorted. “How sad. Prince Casimir doesn’t even know how to build a fire. Life’s a bit tough without Mommy and Daddy’s maids, isn’t it?”

  Cas flushed, his eyes sparking with fury, and Em cleared her throat.

  “Aren, would you mind gathering some branches and kindling?” she asked. She pointed at Cas. “You. Sit down.”

  He stood there for several seconds, like he wasn’t sure he wanted to obey her. But then he slumped to the ground, blowing a piece of hair out of his face. The warriors hadn’t moved; their heads were still bent together as they talked. She knelt down in front of Cas, careful to keep the warriors in her sight.

  “What. Are. You. Doing?” He spit out every word, like it pained him to talk to her. “Why are you helping me?”

  “It looks like you need it.” She knew what he meant, but she didn’t think she had the words to explain why she was helping him. Because I have feelings for you was too pathetic now, given the utter fury on his face. “Where are your guards?” she asked. “Why are you alone?”

  “I imagine most of my guards are dea
d, thanks to you.”

  “And almost everyone I ever cared about is dead, thanks to you,” Aren said as he dropped an armload of branches off.

  “Aren,” she said softly, in a warning tone. He stomped away. She passed Cas her canteen. “You should have some water.”

  He snatched it from her and took a few gulps.

  Miguel turned away from the group of warriors, planting his hands on his hips. “Why are you giving him water? What do you expect to do with him?”

  “He’s coming with us,” Em said. “As our prisoner. When we get to the Southern Mountains, I want to trade him for Olivia.”

  Cas laughed, a hollow, almost manic sound. “Your prisoner. Wonderful. It’s so lovely to meet the real you, Emelina. You’re just how my father described.”

  Em struggled to keep a neutral expression as she ignored him.

  “Trade him and Lera will have their king back,” Miguel said.

  “No, they’ll have a new king. A powerless one, since Olso will have full control of the country by then, I assume?”

  Miguel just frowned.

  “I’m not letting you kill my biggest bargaining chip. I made it clear when we entered into this agreement that my most important goal was to get Olivia. Once I have her, you can resume hunting down the royal family, if that’s how you want to spend your time.” After Cas has had time to get far away from you, she added silently.

  “And if he tries to kill you again?” Miguel asked.

  “Then I guess I’ll be dead.”

  Miguel took the bow and an arrow off his back. He pointed the arrow straight at Em. “Enough of this. Koldo, Iria, grab her before that other one comes back. Move her out of the way.”

  Koldo strode toward her and Em scrambled to her feet, reaching for her sword.

  Iria jumped forward, grabbing Koldo by his jacket. “Wait, wait, wait.” She moved between Em and Miguel, extending her arms in either direction. “Let’s just calm down.”

  Koldo stopped in his tracks, looking worriedly from Miguel to Iria. Miguel didn’t lower his arrow.