“To the princess!” someone cried, and more voices took up the call.
With a great cry, guards and citizens and rebels all clashed together.
Some of the guards encircled the stand on their horses and swung from their saddles, while others leapt from their steeds to face us on the platform. A mounted guard swung at me, only to be stopped by another arrow. I glanced around—the rebels were gathering around me, driving back enemies before they could approach me. They were protecting me.
“Enough!” I shouted. At first, my voice was lost in the tumult of battle. “Enough!” My cry echoed off the buildings around me, making the king pull back on his reins and glance up at me with a vicious smile, perhaps assuming I was prepared to surrender. I stared him down unflinchingly, hoping the fire showed in my eyes. “This is the king’s fight with me. If he truly wants to prove himself, he will tell his men to stand down and he will face me alone.”
Every horse froze at commands from their masters, and all around us, a heavy silence fell. I could almost feel the tension, confusion, and fear emanating from both sides. The king’s men glanced at their sovereign for an order. At the king’s side, Narek raised his eyebrows in mild surprise and shifted in his saddle. His blade was drawn yet clean, still gleaming in the early light, and I had to clamp down my anger. You sit back with the king and watch your men kill for you.
The king sat motionless on his steed and stared at me with an inscrutable expression. The wind ruffled his hair about his shoulders as he swiped a hand through his dark beard and curved his lips into a leisurely smile.
Slowly, he dismounted and walked to the center of the square, behind the execution stand and under the shadow of King Eldon’s statue, staring unmoved at the scene before him. “I do not fear a ragged band of rebels.” His voice boomed in the square until his presence seemed to take up half of the space; his aura still spoke of power and his loyal members of the guard still watched him with deference. He flicked his eyes to me and his face blazed with intensity. “Much less one frail girl.”
“I know you do not fear me,” I whispered. “But you do fear the one who saved my life, because it means you do not have his blessing. And that means something to the people of Misroth.”
His eyes narrowed, but he did not speak as he drew his sword.
With my heart throbbing everywhere but in my chest, I descended the steps, each creaking beneath my feet. There was no other sound in the square but my own breath, my own footsteps. Chin raised, sword lifted high, I approached my father.
CHAPTER 18
As soon as I was within range, the king arced his blade in one smooth motion toward my neck. I barely had time to parry, and the force of his strike made me stagger backward. My opponent lost no time in taking advantage of my weakness. He began an onslaught of strikes, sweeping down toward my legs, my midsection, and my sword arm. I matched each with a swift block or dodge, bracing my arms and feet for each strike as steel clanged on steel.
Against my will, I heard Avrik’s voice echoing in my head: Block, block! Don’t let your opponent overwhelm you with sheer force. He might be stronger than you, but you are faster and more agile. Let him revel in his strength, but don’t let him sweep you off your feet before you can show off your own skills. Wait and let him grow overconfident… but don’t wait too long.
I dodged and parried, letting the king get near but never near enough to end the fight. He swung with heavy, skilled strokes, each swipe of his blade crashing against mine with jarring force. He had decades of experience against me; I had sheer strength of will, dexterity, and speed. My pulse pounded in my ears, sweat slithered down my back, and my arm ached, yet I was still faster than the king. Adrenaline sent newfound strength through my body and I was light on my feet, my steps smooth and graceful, my eyes alert for every movement of my father’s. I twisted, leapt, sidestepped, and spun—anything to keep him moving, to wear him down, or to take him by surprise.
Taunt him. Tease him. He’ll grow frustrated thinking that a little girl that shouldn’t know how to fight is escaping his reach. Let the anger muddle his mind. Create an advantage for yourself.
Again, the king swung his sword and I side-stepped. Despite his attempts to conceal his emotions, I could see the angry fire growing in his eyes.
“You do not know how to wield a sword,” he protested.
I lifted my chin and set my jaw. “I haven’t lived with you for four years. You do not know what I can and cannot do.”
He stabbed at my stomach, but I swung my sword faster and brought it down hard toward his hand. It bit deep into his flesh. He grunted, exchanging hands and glancing in disbelief at his bleeding wrist.
“You have no hope,” he said. But for once, his voice shook and sweat dribbled down his temples. Framed in red, his eyes held a look so foreign to him I didn’t recognize it immediately.
He was afraid.
I had him.
He launched another series of attacks and forced me backward. I dodged and leapt away until he drove his blade toward my foot. At the last moment I jumped away, but I lost my footing when I landed, stumbled, and fell. One second I felt the elation of victory, the next I was lying in the dirt.
The king lifted his blade for the kill strike.
Before he could react, I clutched the flat edge of my sword close to my chest and rolled away. I jumped to my feet and pointed my weapon back at him.
We stood motionless, facing each other, trying to determine one another’s weaknesses.
I tried to play on his fear. “I’ve already won. If you could not kill me before, what makes you think you can now? And even if you did, what makes you believe you could stop the truth? The people have already heard it. Who do you think they believe: the king who sent them to war and executed their people, or the one protected by the Giver of Life himself?” I raised my voice, letting my words echo around us. “Whether I live or die, I have already won.”
“What do you want me to do? Surrender here before you, so you can publicly execute me and claim the throne?” The king swept a hand toward the Royal Guard. “My men still outnumber yours.”
“I am not here for the throne—that belongs to neither you nor me.”
He sneered at me. “Do you think your cousin is man enough to steal the throne from me? He never wanted it anyway.”
He lunged, driving his sword straight at my heart.
I blocked and used my momentum to shove his sword downward. It grazed my leg and I stumbled backward. The king took advantage of the moment and swung again and again, his onslaught intensifying until I was only capable of defense and retreat.
My arms shook and my breath came in ragged gasps. Despite the strength the Life-Giver had leant me, I was too weary for a long fight, and my father was stronger and more experienced than I. My footwork grew sloppy and the blade felt too heavy in my hand. Sweat stung my eyes and my movements became more and more sluggish; I was losing my speed and agility, my advantages.
The king swung high, toward my throat, and I realized he was too fast for me. I would not be able to block in time; I—
His blade struck steel.
“Back away from the princess,” Jennah snarled, her sword holding Zarev’s at bay. Her skin shone in the sunlight, the white scar tracing her face making her look even fiercer, and her eyes were fire.
Gare, Benor, and Layk gathered at my sides with Jennah, pointing their swords toward the king with me. But Narek and his guards were equally fast, gathering about the king and raising their blades against my band of rebels.
“What chance does a ragged group of rebels have against a king that controls armies?” my father spat. “An alliance with the princess ends in death.”
“Everyone witnessed how the Giver of Life saved her. What makes you think you could kill her again?” Gare demanded.
The light in the king’s eyes flared. “She still bleeds.” His eyes darted toward Narek. “Kill them all.”
I braced myself as the Royal Guard surged
forward, expertly positioning themselves to create a barrier around their sovereign even as they moved in offense. Steel clanged as the rebels leapt forward to meet the guards’ attack and defend me. They created their own wall, shoving me behind them so that I was hemmed in, trapped and only able to watch the fight unfold.
No, let me fight! I sprang toward a guard just as Layk cut the man down with one swift stroke. “Back down!” he yelled. “We need you alive.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but the words died on my lips when I caught sight of Narek at the king’s side. Narek’s eyes bored into mine, his mouth a hard line while he stood barring the way to the king. Gritting my teeth, I grasped my sword hilt tighter and resolve hardened my heart.
Casting Layk’s order aside, I charged forward, dashing around Layk and Jennah, who were locked in battle with three guards, and ducking to avoid the swinging blade of a fourth. Arrows darted through the air, but I didn’t stop, didn’t hesitate.
Another guard drove his blade toward my neck and I almost didn’t have time to react. I dove forward, dropping my sword and somersaulting on the ground. Panting, I leapt back to my feet and stumbled toward my sword.
When I grasped its hilt, I paused long enough to assess the battle waging around me. Cries filled the air as the king’s men and rebels fell around me, staining the dirt red and leaving bodies for the living to fight around, trip over, and collapse upon. I lifted my eyes toward the king, still surrounded by his men and shouting orders, and then landed on his captain. He wasn’t charging into the fray, but standing guard before the king, blocking the rebels’ path to him.
My mind flitted back to a cold night years ago when my life had turned upside down. Because of my father, and because of Narek. I still had strength left in me for this. I could do it.
But I only made it two more steps before my pace faltered.
Narek spun away from me, turning from the battle to face my father. The king opened his mouth to speak, but Narek was already moving, his blade flashing through the air, plunging into the king’s chest. He drove it deep, burying it to the hilt. Blood leaked from the wound, staining the king’s silver tunic, spilling onto Narek’s hand. The king’s eyes went wide and his face turned as pale as the snow at his feet. Every wrinkle stood out starkly on his forehead while the light in his eyes turned cold.
Narek leaned forward, dipping his head close to my father’s ear to deliver a message lost in the clamor around us. Then he ripped his sword from Zarev’s chest, letting the blood splatter across his own breastplate and taint Vehgar’s silver stars.
As the king crumpled to his knees, his glassy eyes found mine. I stared back, and I found there was no triumph, anger, or relief in my heart: I felt nothing. Blood bubbled from Zarev’s mouth and dribbled down his lips—and then he collapsed, a crumpled form surrounded by his own men.
Wiping the king’s blood from his cheek, Narek turned to his Royal Guard. “The king is dead!” he shouted, raising his sword over his head. “King Zarev is dead!”
The fighting faltered as guards, rebels, and citizens alike stared at the king’s corpse, letting the meaning of Narek’s words wash over them. Some of the guards charged forward, raising their weapons at Narek, who fended them off with easy strikes, but most, loyal to their captain, rallied to defend him.
The rebels and citizens looked dazed, uncertain whether to join the combat amongst the guards or raise their fists and rejoice. In moments, others took up Narek’s cry, and deafening cheers erupted throughout the square and thundered in my chest until I felt as if the mere noise could knock me to the ground.
“King Zarev is dead! We are free!”
The words became a chant that inspired the people to riot. Citizens still gathered in the streets darted back into the square, rushed past us to the stand, and began to tear it down with their bare hands. Others, armed with whatever weapons they managed to lay their hands on, joined those already locked in battle and began to charge the guards. It was sheer chaos; a fevered push for revenge against a dead man.
As the king’s loyal guards made a desperate attempt to push back the overwhelming flood of citizens, the rebels rejoined the fight to protect the mobs and overpower the king’s men.
A guard slashed toward my neck and I lifted my sword to block him when Gare stepped in, stabbing the man in the back. “We need to retreat! We must empty the palace of Zarev’s men and get you to safety,” he said.
Drawing a deep breath, I nodded. He was right: I would do far more for my kingdom by keeping myself alive and undoing the king’s damage than dying in battle now.
Nearby, Narek drove his sword into another guard and stepped forward. “I’ll accompany you. I can ensure the guards know who you are.”
Hesitant, I studied him. The look on his face, in his eyes, was unfathomable. His face and clothes were still stained with my father’s blood; his sword dripped with it. He could slay me with as little hesitation—had already tried to do so. Suspicion squirmed inside my heart. One word from me and Gare could have his carcass sprawled at my feet. One motion from me and I could slay him myself, striking before he could anticipate my move and block it.
But he had killed the king.
Jennah darted to my side. “Gare and I have your back.”
I glanced toward Narek, who stood motionless, waiting. “Very well,” I said, hoping he read the threat in my eyes.
He nodded a silent assent and led the way from the main square. We raced through the streets, slamming into citizens as we went. Everywhere guards, rebels, and citizens were engaged in the fight while the people kept up the cries: “We are free! The king is dead!”
I darted straight into a burly man and toppled backward into the dirt.
“Watch where you’re going, girl,” he growled.
I blinked dazedly as Jennah offered me her hand. Staggering to my feet, I raised my head, letting the hair fall out of my face, and the man realized who I was. His eyes widened and he cleared his throat. “I—I’m sorry, princess,” he choked out. He bowed his head and saluted.
“Come,” Gare urged, tugging on Jennah’s arm.
All around us, the people roared and swarmed like a pack of dogs on the hunt. Men and women alike charged the guards patrolling the streets. Most were too surprised to fight back, and the few who did were overwhelmed. Some fled while others fell beneath a flurry of fists and were trampled ruthlessly underfoot. Mothers cried out as they shielded their children from the rioting and scrambled to shepherd them toward the safety of nearby shops and inns.
Everywhere citizens and guards alike were falling, bleeding… Screams mingled with the shouts of victory. How many innocents would die today, even after the king was gone? I felt sick at the thought. There was so much bloodshed.
“Come!” Gare bellowed from his position ahead of us, beside Narek. Somehow in the madness he had grasped the reins of a passing horse. Its rider had fallen from the saddle or perished. “You and Jennah will ride! We will find another.”
Before I could move forward to mount, he lifted me and threw me into the saddle and deposited Jennah behind me. I leaned forward, dropping the reins to sink my fingers into the horse’s mane and slamming my legs into its sides.
Trotting through the streets was much like winding through a maze. Most of the people dove out of the way, but others were trapped by the crowds or oblivious to our approach, so I had to pick a wayward path to dodge them all. Mounted guards used their steeds to trample citizens and a few attempted to charge toward us, but Jennah’s sword and the congested streets kept them at bay. Oncoming wagons and carriages stopped dead in their tracks at the sight of the rioting and fighting. Some turned around, while citizens spilled out of others and joined the fray, abandoning their wagons.
After a few minutes, though it felt like endless hours, the palace loomed ahead of us, stark black against a pale sky. My body was heavy with exhaustion, and I let my steed slow to a walk.
“Almost there,” Jennah murmured near my ear.
We ascended the path up the cliff, halting at the top to peer into the palace grounds. They were eerily empty and quiet. We crept forward slowly, scanning for guards, for servants, for any sign of anyone at all. The gates to the main courtyard were still open, the doors to the castle heavily barred as usual and guarded by only two men.
Jennah held her sword out in front of her warily. “I don’t like this.”
As we neared the gateway, horse hooves thudded on the earth and Gare and Narek pulled up behind us.
“Who goes there?” one of the guards shouted, drawing a bow from his back and nocking the arrow to the string. One tug and his arrow would pierce my skull. I dared a glance at the other guard and saw he was aiming behind me, at one of the men.
“Narek, Captain of the Guard!” Narek shouted. “King Zarev is dead! Lower your arms and pay your respects to his daughter, Princess Halia!”
The men hesitated for one instant before they recognized their captain and lowered their weapons. Narek charged his horse ahead of us, its hooves pounding the courtyard cobblestones. The sound echoed loudly in my ears.
What game was Narek playing at?
“The king is dead!” he cried out, his voice bouncing off the high walls enclosing us. “Come pledge your allegiance to the princess!”
I waited breathlessly. Gare rode up beside me and we waited motionless on our steeds as Narek circled the courtyard, continuing his refrain.
Then the palace doors swung open. A row of guards poured through the doors and dropped their swords at my feet.
The guard at their head kneeled low before me, peering up with a steely expression. His posture spoke of humility, but his eyes held defiance and anger in their slanted gaze. Royalty or not, I was his king’s enemy. My heart throbbed uneasily.
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